


RWBY/Zero

by TheMaster4444



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel), RWBY
Genre: Complete, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-09-15 01:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 94
Words: 574,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16923993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMaster4444/pseuds/TheMaster4444
Summary: With the Vytal Festival in full swing, Teams RWBY and JNPR are shocked when an unexpected family member arrives at the school. Elsewhere, Cinder's wild-card teammate proves himself a dangerous enigma, and Arturia tries to prevent a loved one from following her old path while enemies from a past she thought she left behind come for her new world. New players have come to Remnant, and a golden shadow is ready to change the game for everyone.





	1. Arrival

Ruby hummed to herself as she wandered the outskirts of Beacon. She had a wide smile on her face and why shouldn’t she?

Her belly was full from her lunch noodles, Roman Torchwick was still locked up in jail where he belonged, and Team RWBY and all their friends had made it to the second round of the Vytal Festival tournament. Ruby had always known they would but Weiss worried so much it was hard not to have a teeny bit of doubt.

But they won, so the doubt was stupid!

Then Weiss had run off after Team SSSN’s match which was weird because they had agreed to plan the victory party with their friends after that, and Weiss never missed out on a chance to plan something. Studying, projects, dust allowances, plans to discover and exploit the deepest darkest secrets of their competition, if it required organization then she was there.

Then it turned out her sister Winter had just arrived, and Ruby had to meet her, and oh god was that awkward. Though Ruby was pretty sure she stuck the end of the conversation, she could not have been more thankful for the sisters going off on their own.

Unfortunately, this left her with absolutely no idea what she should do. She could go to the party planning with Yang, Blake, and Team JNPR, plus maybe SSSN and CKSM. She still hadn’t gotten word back from Sun and Emerald if their teams were coming. But parties were always Yang’s thing and Ruby wanted to do some maintenance on Crescent Rose.

She thought she had noticed a dent after their match and no blemish on her sweetheart would be given quarter!

The little reaper passed a lithe blonde woman in a blue gown on her way to the Beacon forge. The girl gazed around the massive courtyard with a worried look on her face. It was a look Ruby remembered both herself and Jaune wearing on their first day at the academy. This poor woman was obviously lost.

Ruby walked over to her, “Um, excuse me. Miss?”

The woman turned to Ruby, surprise on her face from being spoken to. “Yes?”

“Are you looking for the bullhead to the coliseum? It’s just a few turns down that way.” Ruby knew how confusing Beacon could be at the best of times and with all the visitors from other kingdoms coming in for the festival, an innocent young girl like this was bound to get lost. And if there was one thing a huntress should do, other than kill Grimm and defend humanity, it was help people who are lost.

Probably.

The blonde raised an eyebrow and gave Ruby a stare that told her this woman was wondering how anyone could possibly be as awesome as she was. After all, it was the same look Miss Goodwitch gave Yang and Nora after they destroyed the practice arena in combat class. Well, maybe not exactly the same. This woman’s eyebrow wasn’t twitching.

But it was uncanny just similar this woman felt to the academy deputy. They didn’t look too much alike and this woman definitely was quite a bit shorter than Ruby’s professor, she was even shorter than the reaper herself, but they both exuded a terrifying aura of authority. Maybe they were sisters? Nah, that was ridiculous.

“Actually, I am looking for the Headmaster’s office.”

…

Okay, Professor Goodwitch had a secret twin sister. She’d have to warn Yang. They could use Nora as a distraction to get away.

The blonde in front of Ruby didn’t notice the girl’s frozen state. “I have been looking for quite a while but there don’t seem to be any maps around here—”

The woman was distracted by the sound of weapons clashing far too close to be from the arena. Ruby saw a small crowd gathering in the center of the courtyard, and she and the blonde woman rushed over.

Ruby spotted Weiss near the front of the commotion and ran up to her partner. “What’s going on?

Weiss noticed her and pointed to the center of the crowd, where Winter was crossing swords with someone in a dirty dress shirt. “Some crazy guy just started attacking my sister.”

Ruby paled. “Oh no, who would do such a thi—” She spotted a familiar great sword striking Winter’s saber and proceeded to squeal. “Thaaat is my uncle!”

Weiss’ eyes widened. “What?”

“Kick her butt, Uncle Qrow!” Ruby called.

“Teach him respect, Winter! Weiss hollered into the crowd.

Neither member of Team RWBY noticed the blonde woman from before frown at their families’ display.

Qrow and Winter barely registered the shouts of encouragement as they dueled at lightning speed. Winter feinted with a stab left before smashing her pommel into Qrow’s face. The drunkard came up smiling afterwards and countered with a low sweep. As the specialist danced away, he brought down his great sword in a heavy slash. Winter dodged by leaping away, but a significant portion of the courtyard was not so lucky.

Winter flew into one of the pillars of the courtyard’s aqueduct and stabbed the support with her blade. With the new hold, she skidded down back to the ground.

She and Qrow faced each other again.

Winter glared. Qrow smirked. Winter charged.

Ruby and Weiss winced as a rush of air blasted past them both.

The blonde woman suddenly appeared in between Qrow and Winter and thrust out a hand at each of them. The ground nearly cracked into a crater and a pulse of wind sent both huntsmen flying back.

Qrow and Winter managed to land on their feet. Their heads shot up to see who would be stupid enough to get in the middle of a fight between huntsmen.

The answer glared back at them with pitiless blue-green eyes.

“Enough of this foolishness!” The woman yelled. “You are both huntsmen. Yet you behave like children.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow at the admonishment, or maybe something behind Winter, Ruby couldn’t really tell.

Winter could only stutter. “Who, who are yo—”

“Schnee!”

Winter instantly turned to the voice and, after taking a split second to recognize who it was, saluted General Ironwood.

“Sir!” she called.

“What’s going on here?” Ironwood demanded.

As Winter tried to explain the course of events (with Qrow chipping in to point out how unprofessional she had been), the surrounding crowd seemed to get larger.

“Now, now everyone” a calm voice called out from behind Ironwood. Ruby noticed Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch walk into the courtyard. The headmaster’s gaze scanned the crowd and if Ruby wasn’t mistaken, his widened just a bit when he saw the blonde woman. But a moment after, his kind and collected demeanor returned. “There is another fight going on right next door with much better seats. And popcorn.”

The people dispersed upon the Headmaster’s reasoning and Winter followed Ironwood back to the academy. Ruby took a moment to wave at her friend Penny before rushing her true target.

“Uncle Qrow!” Ruby latched onto her mentor’s arm. He lifted her up until they were face to face. “Hi.”

They went through their usual greetings and Qrow put her back on the ground. Then, Professor Ozpin called him over.

“I think I might be in trouble,” Qrow whispered to her.

“Well you did tear up our courtyard,” Ruby pointed out.

Her uncle smirked. “True.”

As he followed after the Headmaster, Ruby turned to the blonde woman who had intervened. She was still standing where she had ended the fight. She stared at Professor Ozpin, a look of befuddlement on her face.

A lightbulb went off in Ruby’s head.

“Hey!” she raced over to the blonde woman in a cloud of rose petals. The elegant woman took a step back in shock.

Ruby smiled. It was nice to know the regal woman could be surprised. “That’s Professor Ozpin right over there. He’ll probably be able to talk with you after he’s done scolding Uncle Qrow.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the retreating headmaster. She scrunched her forehead in thought before shaking her head as if to throw something off. She took a breath and then turned to Ruby with a soft smile. “Thank you, Miss…”

“Ruby,” the girl responded brightly. “Ruby Rose.”

“It is good to meet you Ruby Rose,” The woman answered. “You have the thanks of Arturia A—”

“Oh, he’s getting away!” Ruby pointed wildly at the quickly retreating Ozpin. “You have to go before you lose him!”

Arturia turned and followed after the Headmaster, waving goodbye to Ruby as she went. The little reaper responded in kind. The blonde girl was nice and obviously really strong, but Ruby didn’t know if she could survive another fancy conversation like with Winter. She only had so many junctions.

Weiss came up to her as Arturia walked off. “I now understand where your recklessness comes from,” the white-haired girl remarked.

“You’re just mad he whupped butt,” Ruby countered.

“That was a draw at best,” Weiss insisted. Her expression clouded in thought. “Or at least it would have been if that girl hadn’t intervened.” Both girls looked at the still cracked pavement. “Who was she?”

“She’s probably here to compete in the tournament,” Ruby proposed.

Weiss shook her head. “Impossible. No student would dare to get between two fully trained huntsmen like that.”

Ruby conceded that her partner had a point. With how Qrow and Winter were going at it, she doubted even the strongest of Beacon’s student body would have dared to intervene. Heck, maybe not even the teachers. Except Miss Goodwitch. She would have smacked their heads together and berated them for ruining the historic history of the courtyard or something. Sort of how Arturia did…

Oh god, she actually was Professor Goodwitch’s secret sister.

“YANG!” Ruby ran off in a blizzard of roses. She had to warn her sister. They couldn’t have fireworks at the party.

“Ruby!” Weiss coughed at the rose petals and chased after her leader.

* * *

_**RWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATE** _

Also running away from the courtyard was a boy with silver hair and long legs, his normally smirking face wide with panic.

_‘Shit, shit, shit. What is that guy doing here?’_

Mercury did not like remembering his last encounter with Qrow Branwen. Not only because of the man himself, though he was certainly someone to be wary of, but also because it capped of his last encounter with the original Fall Maiden.

Cinder had made the plan seem so simple. Amber would be on a leisurely ride to Vale, just back from an easy mission. Emerald would distract her, Mercury would draw out her defenses, and then Cinder would move in for the kill. There would probably be complications, but hey, they could manage.

What they hadn’t counted on was the maiden charging out of the forest at full gallop, three long blades in her back. She didn’t slow down long enough to notice Emerald’s illusion, so Cinder just opened with everything she had. Amber was thrown from her horse and crashed to the ground.

She was half dead when he and Emerald propped her up for Cinder. She barely managed to open her eyes as Cinder held out that Grimm parasite thing.

“Please don’t. He’s coming,” the maiden had begged.

Cinder had only smiled as she sucked up the girl’s power. She smiled more when she screamed.

That was when Qrow had struck, his sword cleaving Cinder’s connection in two. He had picked up Amber, taken a quick look at them (who Emerald had had the sense to conceal with illusions), and rushed off.

Mercury had been a little startled, to say the least. Emerald had made her way to Cinder, who stumbled a moment before rising, her right eye glowing with power.

“Well, isn’t this interesting,” a dark voice had spoken from the forest.  
Mercury turned now as he did then and saw the same person. Standing outside their Beacon dorm room was a brown haired man in form fitting black robes. One could have mistaken it for a school uniform if not for the golden cross necklace that always accompanied it. And the fact that it was bulletproof and hid more blades in the sleeves than should be possible, but that wasn’t apparent at first glance.

The man’s eyes gleamed with what Mercury could only describe as a dull sparkle, which he knew made no sense but was the only thing the assassin could think of. He had that never-ending smirk plastered on his face again.

“You think Qrow Branwen is interesting? You have a strange definition of that word,” Mercury remarked.

“Branwen is irrelevant,” the man dismissed. “The woman who intervened, however, she presents a possible complication.”

“The shortie?” Mercury inquired. He’d seen what the girl had done and sure it was impressive, but she wasn’t anyone in the know. Nothing to worry about. Unless, “you know her?”

“We have never met personally,” the man assured him. “But she and my associate have some history. She is of some interest to him.”

Ah yes, the mysterious associate. He and Emerald had a side bet going over if the guy was even real. Still, the fact that she mattered to the supposedly apathetic man…

“Is she going to be a problem?” Mercury wondered.

His infernal smirk somehow grew even wider. He chuckled. “No. If she is only appearing now then it is doubtful she cares about what is going on in our world. Rest assured Mercury, Miss. Fall will have the power she desires.”

“Good to know,” Mercury snarked. “See ya, Kirei.”

Mercury went into the room.

Kirei Kotomine gave his teammate a respectful nod and then wandered off to a secluded alcove. He pulled out his scroll and dialed the only saved number.

“There has been an interesting development,” he spoke into the device. “Saber has just walked into Beacon.”


	2. A Game Interrupted

Winter stomped out of the elevator from the headmaster’s office.

Qrow continued his mockery of her, and more importantly the General, inside and then had her dismissed from the room like some unruly cadet. “Drunken son of a—”

“Language.”

Winter whirled around to the source of the interjection. Leaning against the wall next to the elevator was the blonde girl who had intervened in her duel with Qrow. Though Winter had chaffed at the admonishment at the time, she could now understand the girl had spoken truly. If she had recognized that when Qrow had only been taunting her, she could have avoided the entire debacle.

“My apologies, miss…”

“Arturia” the girl answered. “And you have mine, Specialist Schnee. I have become so accustomed to correcting my children that I reacted on instinct. It is not my place to lecture you on language.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. The girl before her didn’t look to be more than fifteen, yet she claimed to have multiple children. Though she couldn’t exactly say she didn’t see the motherly resemblance when she had been scolded in the courtyard.

“But it is to lecture me on conduct?” Winter challenged.

“When you act like a child, yes.” Arturia countered with a steely gaze.

Winter’s face broke into a small smile. This girl…woman exuded an aura of authority. It was at the same time intimidating and calming. It reminded Winter of her own mother. Well, what she once was, before the drinking.

Dispelling those thoughts from her mind, Winter realized a flaw in their conversation. “How did you know my name? And that I was a specialist.”

“It was quite simple really,” Arturia replied with a smile of her own. “You were surrounded by Atlesian Knights indicating you serve the kingdom in a high enough capacity to warrant escort. Your duel with the drunken swordsman supplied that that capacity was a combat role and you possessed significant skill. And finally, the General called you by name.”

She finished that last bit with a tinge of a satisfied smirk at the simplicity of her process. Winter really couldn’t fault her for it. Her astute analysis combined with the power she displayed in the courtyard painted a vivid portrait.

“You are quite the impressive huntress, Miss Arturia.”

The woman’s smile disappeared at that. “I am not a huntress, Specialist Schnee” she declared defensively. Her tone was similar to a faunus when they were called an animal.

Winter’s eyes immediately turned apologetic. For some reason, she found the thought of displeasing Arturia as unappealing as failing General Ironwood. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

The elevator dinged and Glynda, Ironwood, and Qrow got out. Qrow gave Winter a cocky wink and the specialist bristled with fury. Her fingers lingered above her saber but a look from Ironwood made her drop her hand.

Qrow smirked. Glynda sighed, her head in her hand at his antics.

“Winter, let’s go,” Ironwood commanded.

Winter saluted and followed the general as he left. She spared Arturia one last glance before she and Ironwood turned down the hall.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

Glynda turned to Arturia. “Professor Ozpin can see you now.”

“Thank you,” Arturia nodded. She walked into the elevator and went up to meet the headmaster.

Qrow watched the girl disappear before turning to Glynda. “What’s up with the blonde? Oz bring her in while I was away?”

“No,” Glynda responded. “I’ve never seen her before today. After what happened in the courtyard, I assumed she was an associate of yours.”

“Yeah, no,” Qrow chuckled. “Girl gives the ice queen a run for her money just standing around. We probably wouldn’t get along too great.”

“Most likely. But Ozpin seems to know her, so we’ll let him handle it for now” Glynda proposed.

 Orow huffed as they started walking back to Glynda’s office. He pulled out his flask and took a quick swig. “So how are my nieces doing in class, prof? Need to make sure I can make squirm when I’m giving them advice.”

Glynda straightened her glasses. “Trust you to turn something reasonable into something childish. Very well, from Peter and Bartholomew’s reports both seem to be doing above average in theory, though that may be due to Ms. Schnee’s influence. In combat, however, Ms. Xiao-Long is near the top of her class, second only to Ms. Nikos.”

“And Ruby?” Qrow asked.

“Once again, she has proven herself exceptional,” the deputy headmistress praised. “Even against fighters two years her senior, she has remained in the top thirty percent of her class. There was a small stumble earlier in the year, but she bounced back quickly enough.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “What kind of stumble?”

“She faced one of the transfer students from Haven in a sparring match. A Kirei Kotomine. It did not end well for her. The boy tore her apart without even drawing his weapon. For Ms. Rose, who frankly relies on hers a bit too much, this proved quite the blow to her ego,” Glynda explained.

“Sounds rough,” Qrow sighed. Ruby always prided herself on weapons, sometimes connecting with them better than people. To be beaten that badly without one wouldn’t be an easy loss. “How’d she get better?”

“Oddly enough, the same way she got into it,” Glynda remarked. “Mr. Kotomine sought her out. I don’t know what they discussed but Ms. Rose came out of it smelling like…roses.”

Qrow snorted at the accidental pun before falling into a rueful smile. Trust Ruby to take a punch to the gut and keep on walking. The little scamp reminded him of Summer that way. When he and Tai were depressed after Raven took off, it was Summer who kicked them back into gear. Went a bit far for his tastes with Tai, but it’s not like he didn’t get the appeal, especially with her semblance.

Still, Summer couldn’t keep going forever and eventually something got her. Some shots to the gut you couldn’t walk off.

But he and Tai had learned from their mistakes. And Qrow had no doubt that together with Oz and Glynda, they’d turn Ruby and Yang into the best huntresses the world had ever seen.

****

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

“Noooooooooo! My undying hordes!” Ruby wailed.

“Our undying hordes, you dolt,” Weiss scolded her partner through her own tears.

“That’s what you get for messing with the queens of Vale, suckers!” Yang taunted. She raised her hand. “Hi-five Blake.”

Blake gave a demure little chuckle. “Alright, but just this once.” The cat faunus slapped the brawler’s palm.

The four members of team RWBY sat on the floor of the JNPR dorm along with the hosting team. They all surrounded a square board with a map of Remnant and several plastic pieces on it.

With Teams SSSN and CKSM late to the party, the others had settled down for a game of partner Kingdoms of Remnant. Yang and Blake’s Vale reconnaissance force had just annihilated Ruby and Weiss’ carefully cultivated Ursa hordes with another stupid trap card.

“Guys, stop being a bunch of babies. Your tears are gonna mess up the board. Then how are Ren and I going to raze your kingdoms and salt the ground they once stood upon?” Nora demanded petulantly. She and Ren were playing as Vacuo and were slowly inching into Jaune and Pyrrha’s frozen Atlas strongholds.

“Nora,” Ren calmly stated, “there is no mechanic for salting the ground in this game.”

“Not yet,” Nora replied with a sinister gleam in her eye.

Everyone scooched away from her.

Pyrrha turned to a recovered Ruby. “So, do you think the others will be able to make it?”

Ruby shrugged. “Sun said he and the others would try their best, but Scarlet’s still recovering from the knife to the tenders NDGO gave him.”

Jaune and Ren both put their hands over their own tenders in sympathy, remembering the other boy’s suffering. Yang smirked at their nervousness.

Ruby didn’t notice and continued. “Emerald promised she’d try and stop by, and I think Kirei’s coming.”

Jaune raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“He words things weirdly okay,” Ruby said exasperatedly. “Unless he’s giving a pick me up it’s hard to tell what he’s saying. But he said something like ‘I will see if I arrive at that eventuality’, so I’m pretty sure he’s coming.”

Yang and Nora laughed at Ruby’s impression of their classmate. Even Ren and Blake cracked a smile.

Ruby passed the dice to Jaune. “Anyway, get going Jaune. Weiss and I need to avenge our fallen friends.”

Jaune quirked an eyebrow. “You guys are playing the Grimm, remember? Soulless monsters that want to wipe out humanity?”

Weiss grabbed Jaune by the scruff of his sweater. “They were _our_ soulless monsters, you blonde buffoon!” she screamed while shaking him wildly.

“Yeah Jaune, have a little sensitivity,” Nora scolded. Being Nora, only Ren could tell if she was joking.

Pyrrha decided to calm Weiss down when Jaune started turning green. He laid down on the floor to keep from hurling and Pyrrha propped his head up in her lap. “Jaune? Are you okay?”

“Mom, I don’t want to be a farmer,” Jaune murmured, slightly out of it. “I want to be a hero.”

Pyrrha sighed. Yang patted her on the back. “He’ll be fine. Miss Goodwitch is the only one who can do anything serious to him.”

“Maybe her sister could,” Ruby proposed. “She looked like she could be pretty scary.”

“Miss Goodwitch doesn’t have a sister Ruby,” Blake insisted.

“That girl you met was probably just a visiting student,” Ren agreed.

“She was blonde. Really strong. And looked like she could kill people with a glare,” Ruby said. “If she isn’t her sister, she has to be a clone.”

“But wouldn’t the clone then be her twin sister?” Nora inquired, scratching her chin in thought.

“True, true…” Ruby mimicked the motion.

Jaune picked himself up from Pyrrha’s lap. “Please stop. One Miss. Goodwitch is terrifying enough. I don’t want to imagine more.”

Just then, the buzzer for the dorm rang. Ruby jumped up in glee, “That must be Kirei!” She raced over to the door, not noticing Yang’s frown.

Ruby hit the enter button and the door whooshed open. Her smile dipped a bit. It wasn’t Kirei…

It was Arturia who stood in the hallway. She raised an eyebrow. “Miss Rose. It is a pleasure to see you again” she greeted.

Jaune leapt to his feet as soon as he heard her voice.

“Um, it’s nice to see you again, Miss Arturia,” Ruby stumbled out. “But, why are you here?”

“The headmaster informed me that this was Team JNPR’s dormitory,” Arturia explained. “Is Jaune Arc present?”

Ruby turned into the room, “Jaune, someone’s here to see…Jaune?”

Everyone in the room looked at Jaune in shock. He stood perfectly still with his back ramrod straight. His eyes seemed blank and he didn’t respond at all to Nora madly waving her hands in front of his face.

Pyrrha looked at the girl who had sent Jaune into catatonia. She was slight, but her posture was strong. Her gaze radiated authority and when it found Pyrrha’s partner it locked on. The Mistral champion protectively nudged herself between Jaune and the woman. No one would hurt him while she was around.

When Arturia marched into the room, everyone went on edge. Nora hid behind Ren while Yang and Blake were contemplating whether to draw their weapons.

Arturia noticed their skittishness and gave a soft smile. “Well Jaune,” she said, like a cat playing with caught prey. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Pyrrha frowned. Why did this girl speak to him so casually? “Jaune, do you know her?” the redhead asked.

Jaune finally snapped out of his shock. He shrank away from Arturia. “Yeah, yeah I do. Everyone, this is my mom, Arturia Arc.”

Every teenager in the room held their breath at that. Well, almost.

“You’re Professor Goodwitch’s nephew?!?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, the up-to-date story is available on fanfiction.net
> 
> Thank you for Reading! I hope you enjoy what comes next!
> 
> Go Forth and Conquer!


	3. Parental Challenge

After finally convincing Ruby that Jaune was in no way related to Miss Goodwitch, Arturia had asked (commanded) her son to come with her for a private discussion. That left the remaining huntsmen in training to gossip among themselves.

“Can you believe that’s his mom?” screeched Nora. “She looks so young. Like as young as Ruby. How old do you think she was when she had Jaune? How old was she when she had his sisters? Do you think they all look really young? No, wait, that makes no sense Jaune looks older than her. Gasp! Is Jaune really her FATHER?!?”

“Nora,” Ren sighed with his head in his hand. “That doesn’t seem likely. He did call her mom.”

“That’s just what Jaune wants you to think,” Nora insisted as she jammed a finger in Ren’s face. “Who knows what else our diabolical mastermind of a leader has been doing? And without us! I feel so betrayed! And hungry. Are there any more of those fish tarts?”

Yang shrugged. “Probably. Blake was the only one who…” She turned to see her partner had quickly stuffed all the remaining tarts into her mouth. “Nevermind.”

“That aside, I doubt Jaune of all people is capable of committing anything remotely ‘diabolical’,” Weiss said. She may have been warming up to the boy since he helped her with Neptune at the dance, but he was at the bottom of their theory classes for a reason.

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Jaune is a good person who would never do anything illegal at all.” Granted she knew that to be completely false, what with him faking his transcripts, but the others didn’t need to know that.

Pyrrha wasn’t sure what to think of Jaune’s mother. Everything her partner had told her about the woman had been glowing, but when he had walked out with her he had looked like he was going to his own execution. Even if Pyrrha’s feelings for Jaune hadn’t been… what they were, he was her first friend and she wanted to make sure he was okay. But listening in on a private conversation between family was not something easily suggested. Really, only someone with the loosest definition of morality yet care for their friends could even suggest it.

“Let’s go spy on Jaune and his mom, maybe daughter!”

Pyrrha smiled. Gods bless Nora Valkyrie.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

The students rushed out of the dorm, Ruby oddly enough being the last one out.

“Ruby?” a voice inquired.

She turned to see Kirei walking towards her, a bowl of tofu covered with chili peppers in his hands. The red reaper turned the same color as her cloak. “Kirei! You came!”

Kirei held up the bowl. “I apologize for my tardiness. But I have always been told it is good manners to bring a dish when invited to a party and mapo tofu cannot be rushed.”

“No. It’s fine,” Ruby assured him. Then she looked down the hall and cringed. “It’s just that…well…stuff sort of happened, and the party’s kind of been postponed?”

Kirei raised an eyebrow. “Postponed?”

“Yup, postponed, that is what has happened,” Ruby replied, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but everything just happened so fast that we didn’t get the chance—”

“It’s alright, Ruby,” Kirei assured her, his smile never leaving his lips. It encouraged Ruby to put one on her own face. It was one of the things she loved about Kirei. He was always smiling. A person that happy made other people feel better just by being around them.

He held out the bowl of mapo tofu. “Please accept this nonetheless. I feel it would go to waste if—”

“Ruby come on, we’re gonna fall beh—” Yang stopped when she saw Kirei. Her eyes narrowed.

“Robes,” she hissed.

Kirei kept smiling as he turned to the brawler. His head tilted in a small bow of greeting. “Ms. Xiao-Long.”

Yang came forward to stand between him and Ruby. “What are you doing here?”

Ruby rushed in front of Yang, knowing where this would lead if she didn’t stop it. “I told you I invited him to the party. We were talking about it literally five minutes ago,” the reaper reminded her sister. She snagged the bowl from Kirei’s hands. “He even brought food.”

Yang swiped the bowl out of Ruby’s arms. She glared at the mapo tofu mistrustfully. “Thanks Robes, but the party’s over.”

“Yes, Ruby was just making me aware of that,” Kirei said. “Unfortunate, but I suppose I’ll have time for some last-minute practice with Mercury for the doubles round.”

“Good idea, you’ll need it if you go up against me and Weiss,” Yang threatened.

Kirei only smirked. He bowed politely to both sisters and left.

When he was out of sight, Ruby smacked Yang on the arm. “What is wrong with you? He beat me in one spar, so you hate him forever?”

Yang slumped her head. “I don’t know, okay?” she confessed.

She had seen Ruby lose spars before. She understood that that was what happened sometimes. Even she’d lost spars at Beacon, though admittedly only to Pyrrha.

But Kirei had been different. When she’d first seen the guy, she’d had him pegged as the stoic silent type like Ren. His brawler style when he entered the arena seemed to confirm it. He clobbered the stuffing out of Ruby without even drawing his weapon. Throughout the whole fight, his expression didn’t change.

And then it did. It was so brief that Yang doubted anyone saw, sometimes she doubted that she even had.

But when Ruby was close to crying as Miss. Goodwitch scolded her over-reliance on her weapon, Kirei Kotomine smiled.

Yang hadn’t trusted the guy since. Even after he’d patched things up with Ruby, the blonde brawler just couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy from Haven was bad news. Bad news she wanted to keep her little sister well away from.

She turned with the bowl of tofu still in her hands. “Come on, let’s catch up with the others.”

Ruby frowned but followed her sister down the hall. Neither noticed Kirei lean out from the corner he’d supposedly left down.

****

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****

Jaune, like most teenage boys, had complicated feelings about his mother.

He loved her without a doubt, but he feared her beyond all belief. He treasured her advice, but felt the need to disobey her. He was glad to see her, but very much wished that she was anywhere but with him at the moment.

Granted, his mother was a complicated person. One minute she was lecturing them on not overeating, the next she had devoured their entire picnic. She believed that one should always be sportsmanlike but got all grumbly when she was losing family game night. She forbade him from training with his father despite the fact that she did the same.

She told him that he had the potential to become a great leader, but refused to even discuss sending him to a combat school.

At the time, he had felt that justified him stealing Crocea Mors and disappearing into the night. Granted, he had left a note explaining that he was alright, but he had a feeling that his mom was going to be much more focused on the lack of saying where he was going. Besides the cemetery, because with how mad she looked now, he couldn’t see himself getting back to the dorm.

Arturia stopped in a secluded alcove. It was a common area for the students, with a few chairs and a couch facing a television. Mercifully for Jaune, it was empty, all the students probably out enjoying the nonviolent entertainments of the Vytal Festival now that the tournament was done for the day.

Arturia slowly turned around. Jaune closed his eyes and activated his aura, ready for the worst. Soon he felt the air being squeezed out of his lungs as his mother tightened her arms around him.

It took him a few moments of suffocating to realize she was hugging him.

“Thank god, you’re alright,” his mother whispered, a tear streaming down her face. “We didn’t know where you were, what you were doing, or even if you were still alive.”

Jaune tapped her arms and Arturia realized she was killing her baby boy. She quickly loosened her grip but kept a hand on his shoulder, afraid he might disappear again if she let go. Jaune tried to comfort her with his best dorky smile. She always loved it when he tried to be cute.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Worry?” Arturia growled. “Jaune, we only found out where you were because Sapphire saw you in footage of the Breach. Fighting Grimm! Do you have any idea what you’ve put your father and I through? What you put your sisters through?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Jaune defended, knocking away his mother’s hand. “I thought you wouldn’t let me come here.”

“You thought right. I would have called… the headmaster and threatened to castrate him with his own tea if he let you within a mile of this place,” Arturia snarled.

Jaune was puzzled by the threat. It seemed too…personal, not to mention specific for his mother. Like she tailored it for the professor.

“Do you know Ozpin?” Jaune asked confused. Surely, he would have known if they had that caliber of a family friend.

Arturia seemed to close up at that. “The headmaster and I have more history than I would wish, and he has allowed that to affect his judgement,” she explained, but didn’t.

Jaune scrunched his eyebrows. Here was his mom, who always told him he could be great, doubting him again. His disappointment and guilt over what he put his family through quickly turned to rebellion. “I think I’ve done alright for myself here,” he boasted. “My team just made it past the first round of the Vytal Festival after all, so I’d say I’ve got some skill.”

Wrong move. Arturia’s hesitance about Ozpin immediately melted away, replaced by steely eyes Jaune always thought wouldn’t be out of place on a monarch.

“And do tell me how you acquired those skills Jaune,” she practically spat. “Because I visited your headmaster a short while ago and he spun some ridiculous tale about you having attended the Vacuo Academy for the Gifted.”

Oh.

…

Shit.

The Vacuo Academy for the Gifted was a combat school for those whose acceptance letter to Shade was really just a formality. It was where the brightest rising stars trained to become even brighter. It had also been tragically overrun by Grimm a few years ago, destroying the entire institute and all the records it had kept. There was no way to confirm who had and hadn’t been there. Which is why it was the school Jaune had put on his fake transcripts.

A decision he was not for the first time, very much regretting.

“I can explain!” he protested guiltily.

“Jaune Tristan Arc,” Arturia dictated, dangerously calm. “If you dishonored the memories of those who died defending that school just so you could deceive your way here to _play_ huntsman, I swear I will drag you back home and make you wish you had been there when it fell!

“He’s not playing,” a voice interjected.

Both Jaune and Arturia whirled to the corner where the speech came from.

Pyrrha stood in the alcove, fists curled at her sides and her emerald eyes hard like the gemstones they resembled.

“Pyrrha—What are you doing?” Jaune stuttered.

Nora jumped out from behind the corner. “Yeah Pyrrha, what are you doing? We were spying on them. That means we only get seen if we have to knock out Jaune’s mom to kidnap him. I really don’t think you’re getting this.”

Weiss peaked out from behind the wall. “That is not what spying means.”

Nora laughed and waved a hand at the white-haired girl. “Yes, it is Weissy. I’ve seen enough _John Binding_ movies to know how spying—”

“Enough,” Arturia commanded. Amazingly Nora and Weiss immediately ceased their bickering and practically stood at attention. Even Pyrrha’s resolute stare was broken and she shuffled a bit on her feet.

Arturia glared at the corner the three had come from. “If anyone else is hiding, reveal yourselves. _Now_.”

Ren, Blake, Ruby, and Yang came out from behind the wall. Jaune raised an eyebrow at the sight of the bowl in Yang’s hands. Was that tofu? He never figured the blonde brawler for the type.

Arturia ran her hard gaze over the students until she at last focused on Pyrrha. “I don’t believe we have had the pleasure, Miss…”

“Nikos, mam,” Pyrrha said timidly. “Pyrrha Nikos. I’m Jaune’s partner.”

“Hm…” Arturia mused. “You look familiar.”

“She on the front of the Pumpkin Pete’s boxes mom,” Jaune informed her.

Arturia’s eyes lit up in the way Pyrrha was used to seeing from rabid fans. It was quite off putting for the authoritative woman to shift so suddenly. “That’s you! Your cereal is wonderful!”

“She eats three boxes a day,” Jaune filled in everyone.

“How?” Weiss exclaimed, examining the woman. In addition to appearing younger than Ruby, she had a figure most would kill for. Granted, so did most of the female population of Beacon, but they worked themselves to near death to protect humanity from the Grimm. Which, at least in Weiss’ case, had included a strictly regimented meal plan. How did an apparent housewife do the same while gorging on what Pyrrha herself admitted was probably the least balanced breakfast one could have?

Ah! It was like Ruby and her infernal cookies all over again!

Pyrrha nervously rubbed the back of her head. Arturia regained her previous seriousness but her fury seemed to have been calmed somewhat.

“Anyway,” the blonde woman began. “What do you mean when you speak for my son?”

Pyrrha internally cringed. Her outburst had been more of an emotional response to Jaune’s suffering than a formulated argument. Though, since she was training him, there was probably no one better suited to speak on his behalf.

“He’s not playing at being a huntsman,” the champion insisted. “He is becoming one. Yes, when he arrived he was…subpar. But since then he has worked harder than anyone to improve. I’ve seen scores of skilled fighters and while he may not be as good as any of them, he has the potential to surpass all of them.”

The rest of the Beacon students nodded their heads to that. Even Weiss, who hadn’t started out as Jaune’s biggest fan, could concede his tremendous possibility. She had trained exclusively with the best teachers possible and the best courses available, and it took her years to build herself into a competent warrior. Jaune had come into Beacon with no skill or talent whatsoever, and yet, with Pyrrha’s help, he’d grown strong enough to cross blades with students like Cardin who’d been training for years in only two semesters. He wasn’t impressive, but his rate of improvement was absolutely staggering.

Arturia wasn’t convinced however. “And are you aware that the transcripts he used to get entrance into this academy were forgeries?”

Everyone except Pyrrha and Jaune gasped. Arturia took the champion’s lack of reaction as her answer.

“He is my friend, my partner, and my leader,” Pyrrha declared. “I would trust him with my life.”

Arturia’s eye twitched when Pyrrha said leader. “Then perhaps a test is in order,” she stated. “If you have such faith in Jaune, then he will lead your team in combat against me. What happens next depends on the outcome.”

“Deal,” Pyrrha answered instantly.

“No.” Everyone turned to Jaune. “No deal.”

“Jaune—” Pyrrha began.

“No Pyrrha,” Jaune commanded. Ren, Nora, and Team RWBY were taken aback by the vitriol in Jaune’s voice. “You and Nora have the doubles round tomorrow. No matter what happens to me, you can still win the Vytal Festival for the team.”

Arturia smiled proudly at her son’s words, her gaze softening just slightly. “Do you intend to face with only your final teammate by your side then?”

Jaune lowered his head in thought for a moment. He sighed, at a loss. “I guess we don’t have any other choice,” he admitted. He looked to his final teammate. “Ren, this is probably gonna hurt a lot. You sure you’re up for it?”

The green ninja nodded at his leader. “I am with you.”

“And he’s not the only one,” Ruby piped up. Everyone turned to the silver eyed girl. She grinned and snagged Blake. In a burst of rose petals, they were both next to the two Arcs. “Blake and I are done fighting in the tournament, so we’re free to help you stay where you belong.”

“What?” Blake stuttered, still spitting petals out of her mouth. “Do I get a say in this?

“Nope!”

Jaune’s eyes began to water. Arturia’s widened.

“Are you sure about this Ruby?” Jaune asked.

“Think carefully, Miss Rose,” Arturia implored. “I will not hold back.”

Ruby just kept smiling. “Jaune was the first friend I ever made at Beacon,” the reaper explained. “Back then, I wasn’t sure how to be around all the new people, but he told me strangers were just friends you haven’t met yet.”

Arturia was taken aback. She recognized those words. She had once said them to Jaune, a long time ago. Just as another had to her.

She smiled. “Very well.” She turned to her son. “I will meet in your exhibition arena in twenty minutes. And there, Jaune, I shall judge your worth as a huntsman and a leader.”

The blonde stalked off.

Jaune finally let go of a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. His team and Ruby surrounded him while Blake fled back to Yang’s side, who was standing a bit back with Weiss.

Pyrrha frowned. “Jaune, we would have fought with you. The tournament isn’t important as keeping the team together.”

“Yeah,” Nora concurred. “We would have helped you beat up your mom. Even if you didn’t tell us you were a diabolical mastermind.”

“Don’t worry guys,” Ruby reassured them. “Team…J…B…double R, we’ll figure out the name later, is going to whoop Jaune’s mom’s butt!”

“I feel like there is so much wrong with that sentence,” Weiss remarked.

Jaune’s brain stopped as he came to a crucial realization. They were going to be fighting his mom. His _mom_. And his friends thought they were going to win. He knew the truth though. He had snuck into his parents’ training sessions when he could. He had expected his dad to be giving mom a few pointers. What had happened was Nicholas Arc, one of the most exceptional huntsmen to every graduate an academy, strained every muscle in his body while his wife Arturia critiqued his swordplay without breaking a sweat. His dad had been smiling the entire time, which meant he was probably used to it.

Which Jaune knew did not bode well for him.

“Aaaaahhhh!” he groaned. His friends watched him for a moment until Nora and got distracted. She spotted the bowl in Yang’s hands.

“Are you gonna eat that?”

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Trial by Combat

“Is Nora gonna be okay?” Ruby asked. Crescent Rose rested unfurled on her shoulder as she and the rest of Team JRBR (Grabber) made their way to the arena.

Blake loaded some dust borrowed from Weiss into Gambol Shroud. “She’ll be fine Ruby. Pyrrha gave her a gallon of milk to drink.”

Ren nodded his agreement as he cocked Stormflower. “I’ve seen Nora eat sixteen jalapenos in half as many minutes. Her needing the milk at all was quite unusual.”

“Nora isn’t the problem right now!” Jaune interjected. “The problem is that my mom is about to beat up all of you guys and then kill me.” The blonde knight was shaking in his boots, clutching the still sheathed Crocea Mors to his chest like a teddy bear.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Jaune stop worrying. You said yourself that your mom never trained as a huntress. Sure, she got in the middle of Weiss’ sister and Uncle Qrow and cracked the pavement without even drawing a weapon… I thought I was going somewhere with that.”

“I know!” Jaune shrieked. “And that was her holding back.”

Blake sighed. She really didn’t get why Jaune was so scared of his mother. Despite her strained relationship with her own parents (which she really needed to apologize for now that she’d realized they were right about what the White Fang were becoming), the cat faunus was never terrified of them. And her dad was no slouch in a fight either. He and Sienna Khan had been old sparring buddies before their split over the Fang.

“Is there anything you can tell us about her that might give us an edge then?” Blade asked.

Jaune took a few deep breaths and calmed down. “Not much. She usually hides her sword with some kind of wind dust, I think. She never told me how she did it. She’s got this really cool attack that shoots out a hyper-compressed blast of air. Oh, and she can walk on water!”

“Really?!?” Ruby exclaimed, stars in her silver eyes.

“Yeah!” Jaune responded enthusiastically, forgetting his earlier distress. “When I was younger, she used to dance on this lake near our house on Family Fridays. It was amazing.”

“Hm. Interesting,” Ren remarked. “Is that all? Does she have any weaknesses?”

“Other than being terrible at baseball? That’s pretty much it,” Jaune confirmed. “But she probably won’t use the air blast against us. She doesn’t want to kill you guys.”

Blake turned to Ruby. The little girl was her team leader for a reason after. Blake wasn’t stupid, but Ruby had a manic unpredictability about her that made her a master of coming up with group tactics. Well, as long as they were set up beforehand. Other than the defeat of the Nevermore at initiation, Ruby tended to play actual combat by ear, fighting completely in the moment. It didn’t leave much room for coming up with group maneuvers on the side.

That was actually something Jaune excelled in. Blake had noted that while he had no talent himself, he was surprisingly skillful at adapting the talents of others to each new situation. It was why Team JNPR worked so well despite their widely disparate talents. Jaune could quickly analyze a situation and find a way to pick it apart.

Essentially, while Team RWBY was a well-oiled machine, Team JNPR was a boxer, constantly bobbing and weaving to find an opening. If Ruby and Jaune were somehow fused into one person, they’d be the perfect leader. An incredibly dorky leader, but perfect nonetheless.

Ruby rubbed her chin in thought. Then her eyes widened and a mischievous grin sprouted on her face. “Blake, do you still have that elemental dust you used against Torchwick?”

“Yeah,” Blade answered.

Ruby’s smile grew. “Then I’ve got an idea.”

 

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****

Weiss Schnee had no idea what her friends were thinking.

“Why are they even doing this?” she asked Pyrrha and Yang. They along with Nora had taken seats in the arena bleachers to observe the match. The young Valkyrie was laid out on a bench groaning in pain. The Mapo Tofu she attempted to eat lying discarded in the bowl at her feet. Weiss almost pitied the girl, expect for the fact that tried to put the entire chili pepper topped dish into her mouth at once and didn’t expect it to be spicy.

“What do you mean?” Pyrrha responded.

“Why are they participating in this ridiculous trial for Jaune’s sake?” Weiss demanded. “If he forged his way into Beacon then his mother is perfectly in the right to remove him. How are you not all not shocked by this?”

Weiss knew what it was like to work yourself to the bone trying to become the best you could be. She was sure many other aspiring huntsmen did as well. To go endless nights with little to no sleep training and studying, desperately clawing to make yourself good enough to even have a chance to get into Beacon.

And Jaune just skipped all that. He cheated the system and Weiss couldn’t pretend that didn’t sting when she had clung to it so fervently.

Pyrrha looked away from her, obviously not sure how to defend her partner’s actions.

Yang sighed. “Weiss, do you remember what Jaune was like at initiation?”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Of course, I do. He was completely useless.”

“Exactly,” Yang nodded. “We were all caught off guard that he did it. But can you really say you’re surprised?”

“Yes!”

Yang stared at her.

“Well, no,” Weiss admitted. “Not logically, I suppose. But he always seemed so innocent, so bumbling. Even if I didn’t think he could fight, I wanted to believe he had the right reasons for trying.”

“He does,” Yang insisted. “That’s why Ruby, Blake, and Ren are doing this.”

“Here they come,” Pyrrha noted.

Team JRBR made their way to the arena, weapons drawn and ready. The stood in a wide formation with Jaune and Ruby in the middle while Blake and Ren each covered an end.

“Alright, the gang’s all here,” Yang remarked. “Now where’s mama bear?”

No sooner had Yang spoken those words then Arturia strode in from the opposite end of her opponents. Over her blue gown were several pieces of silver armor, including a chest plate and a pair of gauntlets. Her right hand looked like it was holding something, but Weiss couldn’t see anything within her grasp. How puzzling.

“She doesn’t have a weapon,” Weiss pointed out. “Do you think she’s a hand to hand fighter like you, Yang?”

The brawler shook her head. “Her stance is all wrong. If anything, it looks like she’s a sword fighter.”

“She is,” Pyrrha revealed. “Jaune’s told me about her style before. Apparently, she can make the blade invisible somehow.”

Not good. Weiss had fenced since she was a young child and understood the importance of knowing your opponent’s sword. If it was hidden from view, you couldn’t know how long it was. If you didn’t know that, then you would have no idea how to measure your own strikes so wouldn’t run into the enemy’s blade.

“Can you sense it on her?” Weiss asked the champion.

Pyrrha closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. Then another. Then she opened her eyes.

“She has it in her right hand but…”

Yang raised an eyebrow. “But what?”

Pyrrha shook her head. “I don’t know. I can feel the weapon but whenever I try there’s this…light pushing back on my semblance. I can sense but I don’t think I’d be able to move it at all.”

Weiss looked on Arturia Arc with newfound interest. The woman was capable of hiding her weapon and thwarting one of the most powerful semblances Weiss had ever encountered. Yet, she was not a huntress.

Then what was she?

“Did they start yet?” Nora moaned. “Ren, give me a play-by-play!”

Weiss’ face fell into her hands.

****

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****

Arturia was wondering if she would ever have a child that she _wouldn’t_ have a major conflict with.

Amber had nearly bitten her hand off when she was being potty trained. Coral disobeyed her instructions to stay below the M rating on her fanfiction sites. Mordred had killed her.

For a while, she had thought that Jaune would be her breath of fresh air. The baby boy she could love and teach and wouldn’t start a rebellion that would end with her kingdom in ruins.

But alas, the boy was inspired by the stories of his father’s ancestors, epics of gallantry and legends of heroes. Arturia regretted letting Nicholas tell him those tales almost as much as she regretted using her own adventures with the Knights of the Round Table as bedtime stories.

Before she knew it, Jaune had decided he would be a hero. And having experienced exactly what that meant in life and beyond, that was something Arturia would not allow.

She had tried to stifle his dream and forbade Nicholas from training him or unlocking his aura. She mourned when it caused tension with her son, and Nicholas warned her it wasn’t the best idea. She knew he was right, but every night she dreamed of Diarmuid’s dying curse as he drowned in blood wrought by his own spear, or Lancelot’s howls of madness as he crushed all that stood before him, and Arturia knew that even if it was not right, it would save her son. He would be happy.

Heroes never were. Especially the kind she knew he would become if given the chance.

After all, she had been the same.

The knight stood before her son and his allies, Excalibur hidden by invisible air in her right hand. The view screen above the arena flared to life, showing the aura levels of all the combatants.

Which in her case was none.

She watched the aspiring hunters’ reactions. All save Jaune recoiled in shock. She spoke before they could. “Defeat will only come with a ring out. Prepare yourselves.”

Ruby Rose, the girl with silver eyes that she couldn’t bring herself to look straight at, looked at her with earnest worry. It was adorable. “But without aura, we could seriously hurt you.”

Arturia pointed her blade at the red-hooded girl. “You may test that assumption at your own convenience.”

The children turned to Jaune, who nodded back.

Without warning, Blake and Ren advanced and opened fire upon her, their machine pistols sending dozens of shots downrange. Not a bad opening move but useless against Arturia.

Dust, while not exactly magecraft, was practically prana given physical form and as such her Rank A Magic Resistance nullified the low caliber rounds with ease. Arturia lazily deflected some of the shots for show, awaiting the children’s next move.

Ruby burst forward in a shower of rose petals, her scythe ready to strike. Arturia frowned. The child probably thought her speed, admittedly equal to a lower Servant, would enable her to land a clean strike with her opponent distracted with the others’ crossfire.

But Arturia was not distracted. A shame. She had hoped for more from her son’s friends. She quickly sliced where Ruby would be in the next moment.

Except she wasn’t. Ruby fired a shot from her scythe, which Arturia realized too late was also a sniper rifle, and the recoil sent the red reaper flying into the air, dodging Arturia’s slash. She quickly converted her scythe into its full rifle mode and unleashed a barrage from above on the blonde knight.

Arturia swatted the attack away with Excaliber, only to bring the blade down to parry a strike from Crocea Mors, Jaune had taken advantage of her focus on his allies to close the distance between them.

Ruby floated back to the ground, changed her weapon back to scythe mode and rushed in to back Jaune up. Blake and Ren, having noted that their cover fire wasn’t doing anything, advanced from both sides. Arturia was surrounded as all four warriors began a melee assault.

Arturia smiled. She had played right into their hands. She was pushed to the edge of the arena and forced to deflect blow after blow. She could have forced her way through one of their parries with her vastly superior strength, but despite her earlier words she wasn’t really going all out against the children. She didn’t want to kill them. No, she would have to defeat them through skill and technique.

She saw the four slowly getting frustrated as she nullified each strike of their onslaught. A deflection of Ren’s pistol daggers, a parry of Jaune’s sword swing, a dodge of Ruby’s scythe. Nothing they tried seemed to be able to touch her. In time, their rage would lead to a slip up.

Ruby overextended herself the barest fraction. Ren was left open for the briefest second.

It was all Arturia needed.

The hidden blade of Excalibur slammed into the green ninja sending him hurtling out of bounds. Arturia immediately turned her assault on Blake, but when she made contact, the girl phased out of existence and another appeared a few feet away. The knight filed the information away for later and aimed for Ruby, who blasted back in a blur of petals.

Arturia at last descended upon Jaune and landed a mighty blow on his shield. Her son was sent skidding back several yards.

Arturia smirked at the look of astonishment on the children’s faces. She’d be lying if she claimed it didn’t bring her some pleasure. They had underestimated her despite her warnings. Now, they were paying the price.

Arturia raised her left hand and repeatedly curled her fingers towards herself. She believed Sapphire had called it a ‘bring it’ gesture. She didn’t completely understand it, but she was curious to see how Jaune and his friends would rise to the challenge.

****

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Meanwhile, in Glynda’s office, Qrow was curious if he could slip some whiskey into his old professor’s tea without her noticing.

Nah, that meant less for him.

Qrow sat in front of Glynda’s desk, looking over security reports for any sign of Salem’s infiltrators. Ozpin and Ironwood had already done so but growing up in the Branwen Tribe had taught the huntsman a few things that others might overlook. Besides, he wanted to see the look on Jimmy’s face if he found them when the cyborg couldn’t.

The monitor on Glynda’s desk beeped. The professor looked up from where she was grading papers and raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?” Qrow asked without looking up.

“Someone has activated the sparring arena’s systems,” Glynda replied. “Curious. Most students wouldn’t bother with the Vytal Festival going on.”

“Eh, it’s probably just Bart and Peter blowing off some steam,” Qrow theorized. “God knows I’d need to after commentating on those shit matches today.”

“It’s registered under Teams RWBY and JNPR,” Glynda informed him.

That got Qrow’s attention. He smirked. “Really? Who are the pipsqueaks going a few rounds with?”

Glynda pulled up a live feed of the action. Her eyes widened. “You’ll want to see this.”

Qrow came around the desk and looked over Glynda’s shoulder. “Are they fighting that chick from earlier?”

Glynda narrowed her eyes. “It would appear so. I looked over our records for anyone with her face. That is Arturia Arc, Mr. Jaune Arc’s mother.”

“The blonde kid with the shield?” Qrow asked. Glynda nodded. Qrow smirked again. “Doesn’t look like the kids are doing too hot.”

From the feed, the two teachers saw that Ren had been eliminated by both knockout and aura depletion, the display showing him at ten percent and lying on the ground groaning in pain. Jaune wasn’t doing much better with his own normally exceptional aura reserves half gone, while Blake and Ruby with both panted heavily despite their nearly full aura meters.

Qrow looked on eagerly. “Let’s see if they can turn this around.”

****

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_‘I don’t think we can turn this around!’_

Ruby didn’t know what happened. Everything had been going great. Sure, Arturia hadn’t been as phased by the Flowercat barrage as she’d hoped, but they were still able to get her boxed in at the edge.

Then Arturia had moved her invisible sword (which was so COOL!) like a madwoman and blocked everything they had sent her way. One second later, Ren was out of the fight and the rest of them had been forced to retreat.

Ruby was stunned. She knew Jaune had said his mom was a monster, but this was Uncle Qrow somehow cheating at _Ultimate Ninja Fighter 4_ levels of craziness. No one should be that in control against four opponents simultaneously attacking at point blank range. Even when Pyrrha was fighting entire teams, Ruby noticed that she took care to separate them all so that she didn’t get swarmed by more than she could handle at once.

But Arturia had done it without breaking a sweat. It was like fighting Roman’s paladin all over again, except smaller, faster, and somehow, Ruby thought, way stronger as well.

Blake turned to Ruby with questioning eyes. The red reaper racked her brain for an idea or tactic that could help. If she had Weiss and Yang she’d have them use Freezerburn to buy the team some breathing room and then take potshots from the fog. But they only had Jaune in the ring with them and as much as Ruby loved him, he wasn’t going to be much use in this fight.

Ruby was out of ideas.

Then Arturia made the ‘bring it’ gesture.

Ruby decided ideas were stupid.

“ **Ladybug!** ” the red hooded girl shouted. She and Blake shot forward, blades at the ready.

“I don’t know that one!” Jaune yelled after them.

Ruby and Blake crossed to either side of Arturia and then rushed in to attack. Normally the crosswind of blades would enable them to land multiple strikes in rapid succession.

But this was anything but a normal battle.

Arturia’s hands made a wide arc and Ruby felt something hard strike her stomach. The red reaper went soaring back. Thinking fast, she pushed her semblance and sped upward into the air from her position.

Hm. Changing direction in midair. That was a neat new trick. She’d have to remember that one.

Still, she felt the massive blow to her aura and the strain from using her semblance so much so close together. She’d probably only get one more use out of it in the fight.

She looked over and saw Blake on the defensive. The cat faunus was doing her best, but it was plain to see that Arturia was just toying with her.

A lazy strike came at Blake’s head and the huntress made to parry. Too late, she realized it was a feint. Arturia spun around and stabbed forward, her avenue wide open. The blow appeared to land cleanly.

Of course, against Blake Belladonna, appearances could be deceiving.

Blake suddenly rolled away, replacing herself with a clone of fire with the help of her borrowed dust. Arturia only has a moment to look surprised before the clone exploded in her face.

Ruby pumped her arm. “Yes!” Good old Blake.

The girl herself frowned. Something wasn’t right.

A moment later, Arturia charged out the flames, none the worse for wear and her sword raised high.

This time Blake created a clone of rock and Arturia’s invisible sword was left trapped. Blake leapt back to Jaune.

Ruby smiled. Trust her teammates to pull a victory from behind.

She shifted Crescent Rose to sniper mode and prepared to fire.

Suddenly, Arturia ripped her weapon out of the rock clone, and used its remains to jump straight up into the air.

 _‘Weird move for a sword fighter,’_ Ruby remarked in her mind. Ripping her weapon out made sense but why jump straight into the air?

Arturia brought both hands to her chest and angled herself so any sword she had would point towards the arena floor.

Jaune’s eyes went wide. “Get in the air! Now!”

Ruby didn’t know why he was so panicked, but she pointed Crescent Rose to the ground and fired a shot. The recoil sent her airborne.

Jaune raised his shield above his head and Blake used it as a springboard.

“ **Strike** …” Arturia chanted. Wind seemed to gather around her sword, making it just barely visible.

Blake threw Gambol Shourd’s ribbon around Jaune and threw the young leader into the air above her, falling just a bit as a consequence.

“… **Air!** ” Arturia shouted.

Her blade unleashed a blast of high-pressure wind straight down. The practical tornado struck the center of the arena and exploded in a shockwave torn the floor apart, ripping its way into the stands.

Ruby and Jaune were high enough to avoid the attack but Blake was sent flying and crashed into the wall. Her nearly full aura saved her from any serious injury, but it was broken and she was down for the count.

All three remaining combatants descended back to the ground. The arena was torn apart, the rubble forming several boulders near the edge easily large enough for a person to hide behind.

Ruby immediately did just that, her eyes peeking out to look upon Arturia with a mix of awe and terror.

Jaune also ran behind the cover and Ruby started stealthily making her way over to him.

Arturia looked over the destruction she’d caused. “That… may have been a bit much.”

 

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****

Yang slowly got back on her feet. The shockwave had done a number on those in the stands as well. “Anyone get the number on that bus?”

Weiss groaned. “What in the world was that?”

Nora shot to her feet. “I don’t know, but I want one!” Apparently, the shockwave had cured her spicy food coma. She suddenly looked worried. “Is Ren okay?”

“He’s fine, Nora,” Pyrrha assured her as she held onto the bent railing.

Indeed, Ren was helping Blake to her feet at that very moment. Nora let out a breath of relief when she saw.

Yang chuckled at the berserker’s antics. Then she looked to the shattered arena, her eyes serious and frightened. “How can any one person do that?”

Weiss rubbed her head. “I suppose a semblance, maybe.”

“It can be, she doesn’t have any aura” Pyrrha reasoned. A semblance was merely an extension of one’s aura, crafted from the soul. It was fueled by it, each use draining one’s pool.

All four onlookers stared at Arturia Arc, terrified of the power displayed.

And none of them noticed a man in dark robes slip away down the halls.

 

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Glynda and Qrow stared slack-jawed at the screen. Each for their own reasons. Glynda had been teaching in that arena since before Team STRQ’s time and, save for the maidens, she had never witnessed such power before.

Qrow had. And he was furious to see it again.

_‘A Noble Phantasm.’_

Qrow strode around the desk and marched out of the office.

“Qrow? Qrow, where are you going?” Glynda shouted after him.

She got no response and the door slammed shut. The deputy headmistress slumped back into her chair and sighed. She turned back to the monitor to continue watching the battle.

Her eyes focused on her ruined arena. ‘ _Yet another mess I’ll have to clean up_.”

 

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****

Jaune didn’t think he was getting out of this mess.

Mom had knocked out Blake and Ren, and thrown off every strategy Ruby had come up with. He’d kind of expected it, but that didn’t mean he was ready for his hopes to come crashing down.

The young knight sighed and slumped back against the boulder he’d hidden behind. He didn’t want to leave Beacon. He came here hoping it would somehow make him a hero, but it had done something so much better.

For the first time in his life, Jaune had friends. Real, honest to goodness friends. Before he had had his family, and he loved them all dearly, but sometimes you needed to talk to someone who hadn’t made you try on hand me down dresses. The only people in the house who had qualified were his little sisters Lavender and Amber, and he couldn’t exactly talk to them about guy stuff.

He had felt isolated at home, ridiculed by everyone for the fact that he was…well…Jaune Arc. The village idiot.

But at Beacon, Jaune had friends. Nora, who always injected a shot of adrenaline into any boring day. Ren, who calmed him even at the worst of times. And Pyrrha, his partner, who despite him giving her a thousand reasons not to, refused to give up on him. She had taken a cheating fool and turned him into a confident (relatively speaking), mostly competent team leader. He had everything he’d ever wanted.

And he was going to lose it all.

“Come out, Jaune,” his mother called. “Continuing this battle is pointless. You cannot win.”

She was right. Jaune began to maneuver around the boulder when a tiny hand yanked him down to the ground. Soon, he was face to face with silver eyes.

“What do think you’re doing?” Ruby whispered to him.

“Surrendering,” Jaune replied. “Ruby, it’s over. Heck, it never even started. You’ve seen what she’s capable of. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Nope.”

“Ruby, this isn’t one of those times when—”

“I. Said. Nope.” Ruby glared hard at Jaune. The boy found it both incredibly adorable and surprisingly intimidating. “Yes, your mom has beaten everything we’ve come up with. Yes, I’m all out of ideas. But you’re not. You’re Jaune Arc. You specialize at doing what you shouldn’t be able to do. You shouldn’t have been able to get into Beacon, but you found a way.”

“By cheating,” Jaune reminded her.

“You shouldn’t have been able to survive initiation, but you ended up killing a Deathstalker.”

“That was Pyrrha and Nora.”

“You shouldn’t be able to ignore the many, obvious hints that Pyrrha is sending your way, but you do!”

“What does that even mean?” Jaune angry whispered to her.

“The point is, you are a huntsman,” Ruby poked his chest with each word to emphasize it. “You’re the leader of Team JNPR. It doesn’t exist without you. So, stop giving up and come up with something only Jaune Arc would. Because, news flash Vomit Boy, you’re good at this. You just need someone to remind you every now and again.”

Jaune slumped again. “She’s the best warrior I’ve ever seen, Ruby. What could I possibly ‘come up with’ to beat her?”

Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know. But she hasn’t attacked us yet, so you have some time.”

That sparked something inside Jaune’s mind. Why hadn’t mom attacked them yet? The arena wasn’t exactly big. Even with the rubble, she could find them in five seconds. So why hadn’t she?

Because she was honorable. Mom was honorable, despite how much she tried to avoid it. It was part of why his transcripts made her so mad. If she said she was going to do something, she would do it. If she said that something was, then to the best of her knowledge it was. She had given him the chance to surrender. She wouldn’t attack until he had given her an answer.

And that, combined with her only other weakness, might give them half a chance.

Jaune peaked around the corner and spotted what he needed: a small, sphere like chunk of rubble.

He turned to Ruby and smiled. The red reaper returned it gladly.

“Go around behind her. I’ve got a plan.” Jaune told her.

Ruby nodded and made to leave.

“Ruby.” She turned back. “Thanks.”

The red hooded girl grinned and headed out.

Jaune transformed his sword back into a sheath and placed Crocea Mors inside of it. Then, he walked out from behind the boulder.

Arturia looked at him with hard eyes. She knew something was up. “So, are you surrendering?”

“I’ve got a question for you first. If that isn’t too much to ask.” Jaune stated.

Arturia narrowed her eyes. “You may ask.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

His mother blinked. “What are you talking about? I have never lied to you, Jaune.”

And that was the truth. Even if she had not told him certain fantastical details, she had never fed him a fallacy.

“Really?” Jaune laughed. He noted a red hood bobbing up and down in the rocks behind his mother. He kicked his sphere of rubble into his palm and began to toss it up and down. “Because I distinctly remember you telling me once that you believed in me. That I’d make a great leader.”

“Jaune…” Arturia quietly began.

“But that can’t be true because here you are trying to drag me away from all that.”

“That is not why I am doing this” Arturia shouted. “You deceived your way into this institution!”

“Because you didn’t leave me any other choice!” Jaune yelled back. The rubble landed in his hand and he closed his fingers around it. The top of Crescent Rose appeared above the rocks. His mom was too focused on him to notice though. Good.

“I begged you, _begged_ you, to send me to combat school,” Jaune continued. “I even asked dad for training, but you made him say no. So, I found a way to get closer to my dream. And now, I’ve got friends who’ll help me achieve it. Batter up!”

He wound up the piece of rubble in his hand like a baseball and threw a fastball right at his mother’s shocked face. She leaned to the right to dodge it, but that was all part of the plan.

Ruby jumped out from behind the rubble and swung Crescent Rose like a bat. She landed a clean hit on the rock and sent it flying at the back of his mom’s head.

It struck her hard and she leaned forward, dazed.

Jaune redrew Crocea Mors and charged in. Ruby drew back her scythe and leaped forward on a cloud of rose petals.

They were inches from Arturia. She wasn’t moving. They could do it!

And then Jaune heard her whisper.

“ ** _Prana Burst_**.”

The same pulse that cracked the courtyard went off and sent Jaune and Ruby flying back.

Ruby landed on her back outside the ring, defeated.

Jaune slammed into the boulder he had hidden behind and crashed to the floor. He looked up and saw his mother.

She was standing in the middle of the crater she had created, her arms limp at her sides. He wasn’t even sure if they were still holding her sword. Her head was bowed so that he could not see her eyes.

Jaune tried to scoot back against the boulder, dreading the explosion of fury from his mother.

Instead, she spoke softly. “I have _always_ believed in you, Jaune. I never once lied about that. You can become a great leader. A king even.”

Jaune raised an eyebrow. Why was she talking about kings?

“That is why I have sought to stop you,” Arturia confessed. “Because I have walked that path before and it brings only suffering. For you and those you lead.”

A tear fell down her cheek. Jaune was shocked. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother cry.

“But I suppose my efforts were for naught,” she chuckled. “Your dream is too great and drives you to greater conquest than I can prevent. I only ask that you lead them. Live with them and never be alone.”

She raised her head and Jaune saw her eyes, save for the single tear glistening down her right cheek, were completely blank. As she was gazing back into a memory long past, a memory better forgotten.

“The king who lives alone, dies alone. And I do not want you to fall as I did.”

Arturia walked past Jaune and out of the ring. She disappeared down the dark hallway.

Jaune stayed still for a moment, too stunned to move. Then he bolted upright and raced after his mother.

He spotted her just as she was about to turn the corner into the changing rooms. “Mom!” he called.

Arturia stopped and turned to face him. “Congratulations, Jaune. You were the last one in the arena. You won. You may stay.”

“Th-Thanks,” Jaune managed. “Mom, what was all that about?”

Arturia took a deep breath. “It appears that I still have some demons of my own that I need to put to rest and I was projecting my fears of them onto you. For that, you have my deepest apologies.”

“It’s fine, mom. Really.”

“Good,” Arturia said tiredly. “I will set out for home tonight. I will make sure to tell your father and sisters that you are alright.”

She turned to go.

He found he couldn’t let her.

“Mom, classes don’t start up again until after the Vytal Festival,” Jaune began. Arturia slowly turned to face him. “And well, it’d be a shame if you came all the way here and didn’t get to experience the biggest event on Remnant.”

Arturia’s face opened up with tentative light. More like his mother than the relentless warrior she was during the fight. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to impose on you or your friends.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” Jaune waved off nonchalantly. “Ozpin’s cool, he’ll probably set you up with a better room than we’ve got. And if he doesn’t, then you can just use my bed. I’ve still got the sleeping bag from when I made the trip here.”

“Why?” Arturia wondered.

“Because you’re my mom,” Jaune answered immediately. “Do I need another reason?”

Arturia rushed forward and enveloped her son in a massive hug. “Thank you, Jaune. Thank you so much. I swear that from now on, I shall help you be the greatest huntsmen you can possibly be. What say you to that?”

Jaune’s face turned blue.

“Air…”

 

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****

Ozpin sat at his desk drinking his favorite coffee. One of the few upsides of his long life was that he’d been able to experience the beverage when it had at last been perfected. Now he could sit back and enjoy one of the few quiet moments he had in his life as protector of humanity and headmaster of a school of teenagers.

The elevator to his office dinged. So much for that.

Qrow stormed in and marched over to him. The drunk huntsman slammed his palms down on the desk.

“I assume something has you agitated Qrow,” Ozpin remarked.

“She’s a Servant, Oz. A goddamn Servant and you let her into the school!” Qrow accused.

Ozpin sighed. He should have figured Qrow would find out sooner or later. With any luck, James wouldn’t make the connection and start asking if he could experiment again.

“She is, and I did. What’s your point?” the Headmaster countered.

Qrow staggered back, the weight of reality finally hitting him. He pulled out his flask and took a long swig. When he put it done, he’d lost his rebellious swagger. His eyes were haunted.

“How is she here?” he asked. “I thought they’d all disappeared except for goldie and Raven’s black knight.”

“She is in the same situation as them,” Ozpin clarified. “Though you can rest assured, she is not _his_ ally. From what I can tell, she seems to want to keep a low profile.”

“How can you be sure?” Qrow demanded. “Servants have their pasts, legends we don’t know about.”

Ozpin sighed. He hated the secrets he was forced to keep and the one he could not share even with his confidants was the most agonizing of all.

“Qrow, please recall that I hold you, James, and Glynda in the highest possible respect,” Ozpin requested. “Now understand, there is no one on Remnant that I trust more than Arturia Pendragon.”

He watched Qrow’s eyes go wide. Then they settled down. “Were you her master or something?”

Ozpin chuckled. “More like a teacher. I helped her when she needed it most.”

“Alright, fine, she’s on our side,” Qrow relented. “But her showing up at the same time as Autumn’s assailant is a little suspicious. Do you think—”

“If the Queen knew about her, we’d know,” Ozpin insisted. “The King of Knights is far too perfect a prize for her to pass up.”

Qrow smirked. “I’ll say. Her Noble Phantasm is a dozy.”

Ozpin smiled. “Is the school still here?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you haven’t seen her Noble Phantasm.”

Qrow’s eyes widened in shock.

Ozpin looked at the murky waters of his coffee.

_And with any luck, you’ll never have to._

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

 


	5. The Priest's Preparation

_Saber crashed to the floor of the theatre, a golden lance impaled through her knee. Her armor was in tatters as was her soul, both consequences of her duel with Berserke—_

_Lancelot._

_Berserker was Lancelot. Broken by her failures as king._

_“You may answer wrongly as many times as you wish,” **he** mocked her._

_Saber struggled to her feet. Archer stood below her, clad in his gleaming golden armor. His red eyes gazed upon the King of Knights with amusement. “If you are to know the joy of serving me, you must first know the exquisite pain of loving me.”_

_A dozen shimmering portals appeared around him, each producing a pristine weapon of miraculous beauty. And they were all aimed straight at her._

_Saber growled. If she was in top form, then she could likely dodge the barrage, but her injuries from her duel with Lancelot and Archer’s preemptive strike left her wide open. Nevertheless, she raised Excalibur. The grail was just beyond the golden man. It was in her sight. She could save her kingdom!_

_But then she noticed a figure in a dark coat on the opposite balcony. It was one she knew well and pitied even more._

_Her master, Kiritsugu Emiya._

_The Mage Killer raised his hand and his voice. “Saber, by my command seal, use your Noble Phantasm.”_

_For a moment, Saber’s heart soared. Her master, despite her doubts in him for his vile methods, stood with her. With the power the Command Seal granted her, she could annihilate Archer before he could summon a defense powerful enough to stop her. They had won! The Holy Grail was hers!_

_And then Kiritsugu Emiya finished his command. “Destroy the Holy Grail!”_

_‘What?’ Saber gasped. The power of the Command Seal rushed through her. Her arms raised Excalibur above her head even as she struggled desperately to keep them low._

_Archer whirled on her master, fury blazing in his crimson eyes. “Mongrel!” he roared. “You dare interrupt my nuptials!”_

_Kiritsugu paid him no heed. He walked closer to the two Servants along the veranda, staring blankly at Saber all the way. His arm remained outstretched. “By my third and final Command Seal, Saber destroy the Holy Grail!”_

_With the power influencing her doubled, Saber could no longer resist. Her sword blazed aglow with a brilliant holy light, hunger for to obliterate the chalice before her._

_‘Why Kiritsugu?’ Saber begged through their mental link as master and Servant. “Why you, of all people?’_

_Saber knew of Kiritsugu’s dream. A world without conflict. It was the thought that the despicable man was working towards a noble end that had stayed her sword from rising against him many times over the course of the Fourth Holy Grail War, the knowledge that despite the horror he had allowed and inflicted, he sought salvation for all humanity._

_And now he wished to throw it all away? Everything Irisviel had sacrificed. Everything Maiya had sacrificed. He would throw it all away?_

_Why?_

_‘Why!?!” she demanded of him as tears streamed down her face._

_Kiritsugu gazed back at her, his eyes seeming blank and focused._

_What Saber did not know, was that Kiritsugu had discovered that the grail had been corrupted. It had trapped him in a dream state and attempted to use illusions of his beloved Iri and Illya to get him to make a wish, any wish. So it could turn it into humanity’s nightmare._

_To escape, Kiritsugu had executed the two people he loved most in the world before putting a bullet through his nemesis, Kirei Kotomine._

_Now he stood before Saber, the King of Knights he had felt so much scorn for. He still did in a way. But she was only the same kind of fool he was. The kind who went looking for a miracle, because that was what they needed._

_But there were no miracles. He couldn’t change that reality, and neither could she. It was as he’d told her after he’d dealt with Lancer and his master. Heroes did more harm than good._

_He pushed everything away as he looked upon the tearful King of Knights, who in that moment looked so much like the little girl she never got the chance to be. Like Illya, the little girl Kiritsugu somehow knew he’d never see again._

_In the million, million timelines where he would look upon his Servant in that moment, in the countless parallel worlds, his persona of the emotionless mage killer would hold, and Saber’s holy sword would obliterate the grail._

_But this time? This time his grief was too fresh, and she reminded him too much of his little girl._

_‘I’m sorry Saber,’ he comforted her through their telepathic link. ‘I wish this was a world where heroes could make a difference. But it isn’t.’_

_Saber’s eyes widened in shock, not understanding his words._

_The Grail did not either, but it had listened to the desire cast over the link it had created. And the corruption of Angra Mainyu demanded it be granted. In its own way, of course._

_The Holy Grail exploded in a torrent of black mud that covered all those present in the theatre._

_When Saber next opened her eyes, she saw a village in flames…_

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Arturia shot up in bed, panting hard.

She quickly whirled around, feverishly scanning her surroundings. She sighed in relief when she saw only her son’s dorm at Beacon.

She wasn’t back in the war. She wasn’t back in the village.

Arturia didn’t like to remember her arrival on Remnant, being thrown straight into a Grimm attack on an outlying settlement. The place had been a ruin when she’d arrived. She’d found Kiritsugu and helped him use Avalon to save a young girl but then she departed, too broken by recent events to endure her former master’s company.

Fortunately, the mud from the grail had granted her a physical body with the ability to regenerate her own _prana_. She sensed it should have done more, altered her somehow, but whatever darkness had swallowed her had become distracted by Archer’s presence, focusing all its efforts on him. Arturia imagined the arrogant man had not survived the assault of curses but the distraction had allowed her to pass through with minimal changes.

After that, she journeyed across Remnant for years, slowly learning the quirks of the new world the grail had left her in. Dust, aura, huntsmen, they were all intriguing. She could only imagine the likes of those this realm would pass on to join the Throne of Heroes. And with the ever-present threat of the Grimm, individuals of their caliber were sorely needed.

But Arturia was broken. She had failed her kingdom in the past, even more than she’d thought as Lancelot had revealed to her, and then she’d failed to save them with a wish from the grail. If she took part in this world, if she became a huntress, how many more would pay for her inevitable failure?

So, she wandered. Eventually, she’d stumbled upon a huntsman who’d lost his team defending a small frontier settlement. He’d been about to be torn apart by five Deathstalkers when Arturia had intervened. She’d tried to convince him to run, but the fool claimed he would be disrespecting his fallen comrades if he didn’t finish their mission. Out of a desire to keep the fool she’d saved alive and possibly out of guilt for being unable to protect the village she’d arrived in, Arturia went with him.

It was five years later when Nicholas finally convinced her to marry him.

Arturia smiled at the memory. Her eyes wandered around the room. As expected, Lie Ren slept without a sound while young Ms. Valkyrie snored like a horse. Having slept in many an army encampment where the animals were common, Arturia felt herself qualified to judge.

The two were quite pleasant to speak with following the match the day before. Ren was understanding when she’d apologized for her brutal efforts in their combat and Nora had had the decency to look admonished after she’d asked Jaune to use his ‘criminal mastermind’ powers to steal her test answers. Arturia was pleased that her son had made such a dependable team.

She looked over to the remaining bed in the room, expecting to see her son’s partner. Surprisingly, Ms. Nikos was absent from the room.  Arturia leaned over her bed to tell Jaune, but found his sleeping bag empty as well.

Arturia got up and materialized her blue battle gown, without the armor, and exited the room. She listened carefully in the halls and, strangely enough, heard the sounds of battle coming from above. She tracked down a door that led to the roof and peaked out.

In the darkness of early morning, Pyrrha and Jaune crossed blades. Arturia noted how Pyrrha seemed to anticipate Jaune’s strikes before lightly parrying them. It was clearly a training session. But it was certainly impressive that the two of them would get up so early to practice when Pyrrha had a match later that day.

The two clashed in several more exchanges before separating. Jaune was breathing harder than Pyrrha, but they were both smiling.

Arturia clapped and stepped onto the roof. The fighters turned to her, surprised at her presence.

Jaune went red in the face. “Mom, hey! What are you doing up this early?”

Arturia pushed the actual answer to that question to the back of her mind. She was safe. Her family was safe. All was well.

She grinned at her son. “I’ve always been an early riser Jaune. It was you who used to sleep in past noon. I’m glad to see that’s changed. Your form was excellent.”

Jaune preened from the compliment. “Really?” he asked in wonder. “Pyrrha’s been training me for months, but I wasn’t sure if I was getting it down.”

“You are,” Arturia assured him. She turned to her son’s partner. “You seem to be a wonderful instructor, Pyrrha.”

“Oh…” Pyrrha bashfully rubbed her head. “It’s nothing. Jaune’s a very good student. I’ve never met anyone so dedicated.”

Arturia smiled. To think a girl with her face on the greatest cereal on Remnant was so modest. “Be that as it may, I’ve always found that a proficient teacher is the greatest boon for any disciple.”

It certainly made sense why she’d failed so miserably, at least. She’d had to deal with—

No. Don’t think about him. She wasn’t going to get involved.

“I suppose that’s true,” Pyrrha conceded. The poor girl shuffled on her feet in a way that did not seem natural on the confident huntress Arturia had seen before. “Mrs. Arc, I wanted to say I’m sorry, for intruding on your conversation with Jaune yesterday. No matter what was going on, it’s not my place to interfere in family business.”

“Pyrrha,” Jaune started glumly. “You didn’t do anything—”

“Have you fought beside my son, Ms. Nikos?” Arturia asked suddenly.

Pyrrha looked up, startled. “Yea- Yes. At our initiation and at the Breach.”

“And yesterday you did no different,” Arturia explained to her. She put her hand on the red-headed girl’s shoulder. “Jaune needed help, and you did your duty as his partner and teammate. You need feel no shame for that, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha gave her a genuine smile. Arturia noted it was quite lovely. Indeed, she observed that her son’s partner was one of the finest beauties she had ever come across. And yet, judging by the intensity of her actions the other day, which even for a friend were quite potent…

Ah.

Arturia wondered how long she’d been trying to get Jaune to notice.

Judging by his next words, quite a while. “Pyrrha’s fighting in the Vytal Festival today.”

Arturia watched as Pyrrha’s head drooped. That was the best Jaune could come up with to endear the girl to his mother? Still, she might as well go along. Hopefully, it would give the girl some much-needed confidence around both Arcs.

“Really?” Arturia mused. “I’m sure you’ll do magnificently.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha responded. “With Nora with me though, I’m not sure if the arena will survive. She was quite inspired by your display yesterday.”

“So I noticed,” Arturia remarked. Indeed, the hyperactive huntress hadn’t stopped asking questions about her abilities until Ren had had to replace her regular syrup with the sleeping variant. “Anyone you’re worried about?”

“Besides Weiss and Yang?” Jaune scoffed. “No one stands a chance.”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha scratched her chin in thought. “There is Team CKSM.”

“Casam?” Arturia inquired. “Who’s fighting for them?”

“Mercury Black is a likely choice,” Pyrrha declared. “I fought him briefly in a spar, but he chose to forfeit before we could finish.”

“Why would he do that?” A spar was training. You couldn’t improve by surrendering.

Pyrrha shrugged. “Many decide that they cannot win against me based on reputation alone, and so choose not to try. Still, before he did so he was quite impressive. It was shaping up to be as thrilling as one of my duels with Yang.”

“Hmm,” Arturia mused. “Perhaps he was merely testing to see if you were as worthy an opponent as your reputation suggested?” Though she herself had no idea what that reputation might be, but with what she’d seen of Pyrrha’s skills, she imagined it was impressive.

“Possibly,” Pyrrha conceded.

“Their other pick is obvious though,” Jaune said. “It’s gotta be Kirei.”

Arturia raised an eyebrow. “Kirei?”

“Yeah, Kirei Kotomine. He’s visiting from Haven for the tournament,” Jaune informed her. “Do you know him?”

Arturia scrunched her face in thought. “No, but I feel like I’ve heard the name somewhere before.”

She had lived two entire lifetimes. She doubted she could recall everyone she’d ever met. If she’d encountered this Kirei Kotomine before, it probably wasn’t in any meaningful capacity.

She looked forward to seeing him fight in the tournament.

* * *

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Kirei leaned against the wall of Team CKSM’s dorm, his scroll pinned to his ear.

“She seems to share your condition,” he explained to the person on the other end. “Likely she has been on Remnant for as long as we have and merely chosen to remain hidden. I will continue to assist Ms. Fall and monitor events here. We will get everything we need.” Kirei hung up the call.

His associate was getting impatient but fortunately, he didn’t have much choice but to wait. Kirei enjoyed working with the man, but he would freely admit that his partner could be quite temperamental at times.

Still, it was better than his current company. He turned to his temporary teammates.

Cinder Fall sat on the edge of her bed with one leg over the other and a seductive grin on her face. Kirei imagined it would be distracting for some men, but her harlot’s tricks did not interest him. Besides, he was aware of the tempestuous inferno that blazed behind her eyes. Well, one of them at least. Oh, how it tortured her that it was only one.

It was irritatingly childish and repulsive. Kirei held her in the same contempt as he had Zouken Matou. Desperately clawing for power for the sole sake of getting more power. She claimed it was so she could be feared, but in the end, what was fear but another form of power?

Emerald sat cross-legged on her own bed, awaiting her leader’s next command. Ever the dutiful lapdog, begging for scraps so she didn’t go hungry again. Kirei had taken great delight in her terror when Cinder had told her that she wouldn’t be competing in the doubles round. She had feared her beloved master had lost faith in her before Cinder explained that she wanted to keep the girl’s semblance as hidden as possible. It was far too brief, but Kirei looked forward to savoring more at a later date.

Mercury was lounging on the floor reading a comic, attempting to get some leisure in before the fights started. He at least was tolerable. He wished to live with no restraints after a lifetime of fearing excessive reprisal. It was something Kirei could sympathize with, having a similar mindset himself, but he found the silver-haired boy’s taste so base that he simply couldn’t condone it.

Taking joy from suffering was fine. But to gorge yourself on _common_ murder was simply crass.

Cinder raised her chin to speak. “I trust your associate is getting along well with our White Fang friends?”

Kirei shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Most do not appreciate his style of socialization.”

Cinder narrowed her eyes. “If he jeopardizes our mission with his arrogance, there will be consequences.”

Kirei smirked. He doubted there were any consequences Cinder could bring against his associate that could not be easily dealt with. Still, it would be better to put her at ease if their alliance was to hold until it was no longer needed.

“Fear not, Ms. Fall,” he assured her. “My partner and I are fully dedicated to helping you acquire the maiden’s full power.”

That at least was completely true.

Cinder didn’t seem to believe him but was interrupted by a knock at the door before she could continue. She motioned for Emerald to get it, and the green-haired girl rose promptly.

Emerald opened the door to reveal a grinning Ruby Rose, far too energetic for as early as it was. She held Kirei’s now empty Mapo Tofu dish in her hands.

“Hey Ruby,” Emerald greeted with false cheer.

“Hey Emerald!” Ruby responded with the same level but honest. She looked further into the room and beamed at the others. “Hey, Mercury! Cinder! Kirei!”

“Sup,” Mercury lazily waved.

“Hello, Ruby,” Cinder bowed her head slightly. Kirei wondered how much she despised performing even that simple gesture.

Kirei did the same without complaint however. “Greetings, Ruby. I trust everything turned out alright yesterday.”

Not that he didn’t know that anyway, having observed her battle with Saber until the Servant had used Strike Air. Since young Mr. Arc was still present in the school, there shouldn’t have been too much trouble afterwards.

Ruby’s nod confirmed his theory. “Yup! Jaune’s mom is A-Okay with him being a huntsman. She’s even staying to watch us all in the tournament.”

“Really?” Kirei smirked. That meant Saber would still be in the area when his associate arrived. He would be most pleased to learn this. “Then I shall hope not to face you. The additional motivation will be sure to make both your teams’ fighters exceptional foes.”

Ruby’s cheeks turned the color of her hood and she bashfully twirled a bit. “Oh, stop it you. I mean sure Yang and Weiss are awesome, and Pyrrha and Nora are amazing, but you’ll do great too. Besides…” The young girl comically ran over and leaned into his ear, “You’ve got your super-secret weapon!” she stage-whispered, probably thinking herself clever.

Emerald rolled her eyes behind the girl’s back while Mercury chuckled at her antics. Cinder kept her amused smile plastered on her face.

Kirei just kept smiling. He had no reason not to.

Ruby Rose, the girl with silver eyes, was a simple soul. She was bright, and cheery, and wanted to be a hero. There was nothing complex about who she was despite the many intricacies about what she was.

Kirei found it enticing. She failed to grasp the paradox of her dreams of heroism and her desire for those she loved to be happy. For if one was to be a hero, they had to have a tragedy to save people from. It was why he’d gotten her back on her feet after their spar had left her crushed.

Kirei wanted Ruby Rose to be on top of the world. Before he slowly brought reality crashing down around her.

Yes. He believed he would find great joy in that. Especially when his last encounter with a silver-eyed warrior had been so unsatisfyingly brief.

Ruby’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d forgotten. She quickly shoved the bowl she held into Kirei’s hands. “Oh yeah, I came to give this back to you. The tofu was…spicy. Very spicy.”

“I’m glad,” Kirei said. “Its fire is one of the few things that truly warms my soul.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “That explains why Nora’s aura didn’t help her.”

She realized what she said a moment later and jumped away, wildly waving her arms. “Not that it was bad or anything, but Nora ate all of it really fast and then she was jumping around breaking stuff and I think she breathed fire at some point and—”

“Ruby,” Kirei stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright.” Honestly, he probably should have anticipated such a thing from Ms. Valkyrie. The girl seemed to defy the laws of nature.

Emerald patted Ruby on the back. “You should probably get back to your team before your sister decides that Kirei kidnapped you.”

“EEE!” Ruby panicked, racing out the door. “You’re right! Bye guys, see you at the festival!”

Emerald sighed. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Cinder frowned at Kirei. “Mrs. Arc, she’s this ‘Saber’ you and your associate are so interested in?”

Kirei nodded. “Indeed. Though truthfully, the interest is his alone.”

Her amber eyes narrowed. “Will she be a problem?”

Kirei smirked. “No, I imagine she knows nothing of the maidens and would not care if she did. She seems to have cast aside the role of hero.”

“Good,” Cinder declared. “If any of that changes, deal with it.”

“Gladly,” Kirei assured her. He flexed his arm, sliding three Black Keys from his sleeve to his hand.

“Now then, who will I be facing?”

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

“Coco Adel and Yatsuhashi Daichi of Team CFVY!” Peter Port shouted over the stadium intercom.

Kirei watched impassively as his opponents entered the field. The girl with excessive clothing and the giant boy with an equally large sword. Kirei gave it a glance and his semblance confirmed that it was all it appeared to be. He looked over the girl and noted her handbag was actually a minigun. Both facts he had already known from previous observations of them, but he had learned to never be too careful.

After Kirei had arrived on Remnant, miraculously revived thanks to the power of the grail, he had quickly sought out a rogue huntsman to unlock his aura. Afterwards, he had noted that with just a glance, he could discern any individual’s hidden talents or ulterior applications of their weapons.

It took a while, but he eventually discerned that he had uncovered his semblance: Understanding.

With it, he could no longer be surprised. He found that to be both a blessing and a curse. While he could detect any hidden tools, such as Avalon during his final duel in the Fourth Holy Grail War, it also robbed him of making new discoveries about his foes. He knew their weaknesses, so the thrill of uncovering them was denied to him. He wondered if that made him any crueler in his exploitation of them.

“Hey, handsome!” Coco called to him. He turned to her disinterested. “Love the outfit.”

“Thank you,” he responded politely. “I find it exceptionally functional for combat.”

“Oh, I like him,” Coco smiled.

“I cannot promise you will leave without a scratch,” her teammate Yatsuhashi warned. The hulking man rose from his meditative stance.

“I think we’ll be alright,” Mercury cockily countered.

The field rose around them, split into four quarters. Behind Kirei and Mercury was a savanna of grass taller than themselves. To their left was a thick emerald forest while to their right was a nest of active geysers. Behind Team CFVY were the ruins of a broken city.

“Ready?” Peter Port’s voice asked the combatants.

Yatsuhashi drew his greatsword. Coco unfurled her minigun.

Kirei smirked.

“Three! Two! One! Go!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Shifting in Shadows

Kirei and Mercury shared a smile and retreated into the savanna brush. Then they broke off to opposite sides, Mercury going right to the geysers and Kirei going left to the forest. He stuck to the shadows and slinked through the foliage. When he was certain he could not be seen, he leapt into the canopy.

The priest smirked. Once upon a time, it would have taken effort for him to perform such a feat. True, his training as an Executor had rendered him practically superhuman in his own world, with his multitude of Command Seals and his reinforcement magic allowing him to go even further beyond. But on Remnant, he did not even have to waste such power, with aura making his abilities natural and his other advantages still lying in wait. In fact, with his partner’s elixir of immortality having kept him in his prime, Kirei doubted he had anything to fear from any of the tournament combatants.

And with the exception of Saber and Cinder, perhaps not anyone in all of Vale.

Kirei moved to the forest’s border and observed the action in the rest of the arena. Mercury was handling both their foes quite well all things considered. The boy combined the unnatural agility of his legs with a vicious fighting style to deal brutal blow after brutal blow to their opponents. He had separated Yatsuhashi from Coco and was driving the larger man into the minefield of geysers.

He noted Coco reactivating her Gatling Gun, preparing to strafe Mercury the moment her teammate was out of the line of fire.

Kirei could not allow that. He slid three Black Keys into each hand and murmured a prayer.

“ _Lord, I am your holy servant and agent of your will. Lend me the strength of your angelic enforcers to guide me against all heresy_.”

The keys glowed softly and then faded to normal. Kirei jumped out of the trees and threw his blades at Coco.

The leader of Team CFVY heard the swords whistling through the air and dodged out of their path, turning her gun on the quickly closing Kirei.

“Bad move, handsome,” she taunted with a grin. The barrels of her weapon began to whirl to life…

And then exploded, as each of the six blessed Black Keys flew around through the air and rammed themselves into the mouths of each barrel. The dust rounds were fired and then detonated upon contact with the holy blades, sparking those that remained in the weapon’s magazine.

The massive firearm erupted in flames, blasting Coco away in the process. When Kirei spared it a brief glance, the thing looked like a pile of scrap.

Rushing in before Coco could recover, Kirei unleashed a furious barrage of Bajiquan strikes, battering down her aura to half before the girl could even blink and sending her stumbling right after that.

To her credit, Coco did try to fight back, even if it was clear that she was massively outclassed in hand to hand. She retreated to the border of the geyser area and then forced Kirei to leap back by attempting to sweep his legs out from under him. She attempted to seize her momentum and threw a solid haymaker at his face.

Unfortunately, this left her open to one of Kirei’s most practiced combinations, **Six Grand Opening- Elbow Upthrust**.

Kirei grabbed Coco’s arm from below, pressed in close to her side, and then simultaneously delivered an elbow strike to her heart and a vicious kick to her leg. In an instant, Coco was flat on her back, the air driven from her lungs.

Kirei put her aura in the red with one final punch to the gut.

A buzzer rang out in the arena.

“Coco Adel of Team CFVY has been eliminated” Professor Port announced to the coliseum.

His job done, Kirei walked away from the beaten girl to see if Mercury needed help finishing his opponent. After all, though he didn’t expect it, perhaps the tall boy could provide him with more enjoyment than his leader. Though the priest doubted it.

No, his joy would be found in the single’s round. And the tears that would fall there.

 

* * *

**RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE**

Ruby cringed as Kirei dealt the final blow to Coco.

He was her friend but man, she did not like his fighting style. He said it was optimized to defeat his foe in the most efficient manner, but when he was using it? Ruby could understand why Yang was so wary about him.

Still, he didn’t use his secret weapon, so it wasn’t as if he was going overboard. He just wanted to finish the fight as fast as possible.

Ruby looked over to see Velvet in shock at her leader’s rapid defeat, but Fox looked like he was comforting her well.

“That’s never going to stop being impressive or terrifying no matter how many times I see it,” Blake remarked from next to Ruby.

“He is an exceptional combatant,” Mrs. Arc agreed from next to her. “Still, I wish I could recall where I’d heard his name before.”

“Maybe dad mentioned after one of his seminars at Haven?” Jaune proposed from his mother’s other side. “I mean, he would have noticed a guy like that if he met him?”

“Kirei only got into Haven this year,” Ruby informed them. “Did your dad have any classes in the last two semesters?”

“No,” Arturia stated. “Grimm activity has been increasing throughout the Mistralian countryside, so Nicholas has been too busy with extermination missions.

Ruby nodded thoughtful, thinking back on the moment her friendship with Kirei began, hoping to find some clue.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

_Ruby was led into the back hallway by Kirei, the student from Haven who had decimated her in Ms. Goodwitch’s sparring class. Yang had asked her not to go but if he wanted to talk, the red-hooded girl didn’t see why not. It’s not as if he could make her feel any worse._

_The boy turned around to face her. In his right hand by his side was a small black suitcase._

_Ruby tried to smile but felt like it just came off as an awkward grin. “So, what did you want to talk about?”_

_She was not expecting the boy to formally bow before her. “I have observed over the past week that you have not been acting like yourself,” Kirei explained. “My teammate Emerald has also informed me that the point where you began to seem more ‘down’ as it were, was after our spar in Ms. Goodwitch’s class. As such, I would like to apologize for any undue stress I may have caused you.”_

_Ruby backed away, wildly waving her arms in front of her. “No, no, no, it’s fine” she frantically assured him. “It’s sparring class, someone’s gotta win and someone’s gotta lose, you didn’t do anything wrong.”_

_Kirei rose back to a standing position and raised an eyebrow. “Then why have you been so uninspired since our duel?”_

_“No reason,” Ruby protested. “Just been one of those weeks, you know?”_

_“No,” Kirei answered bluntly. “I do not know.”_

_‘Darn, this guy is a master of conversation,’ Ruby admired mentally._

_The silver-eyed girl sighed. “Look, it’s just…I’m kind of a weapon nerd, alright. All the best huntsmen and huntresses I’ve ever seen always had some cool, mega awesome weapon to go with them. It’s part of what inspired me to make my baby so amazing.”_

_She nearly swooned as she thought of Crescent Rose before catching herself. Hopefully, Kirei didn’t notice._

_“Weapons, to me, are a gateway to someone’s soul,” she continued. “And when I fight someone, well, when it’s not life and death anyway, I come to understand people better through their weapons.”_

_“But I did not use a weapon in our match,” Kirei observed._

_“Exactly! And you’re incredible!” Ruby shouted. Both students stood still for a few moments. Ruby’s face turned the same color as her hood as she realized what she just said sounded like. “I mean… you seem like someone I would want to get to know. Can never have too many friends, right?”_

_She waited for him to walk away, or awkwardly stammer about how she creeped him out. Even after having gained her team and all her new friends at Beacon, Ruby really wanted to get along with as many people as possible. She didn’t want to feel as alone as she had at initiation ever again._

_So, she waited for the pin to drop. For something to ruin this budding friendship she was so desperately trying to snag onto._

_Instead, Kirei smiled._

_He raised his left arm perpendicular to the ground and three long blades flashed into his hand._

_Ruby went starry-eyed._

_“Woah! How did you do that?” she said. She eyeballed the length of the blades and compared it to that of his forearm sleeve. No way they could have fit in there._

_Kirei’s smile curved into a smirk. “Magic.”_

_“Fine, don’t tell me,” Ruby pouted._

_Kirei retracted the blades. “Those are my usual weapon, the Black Keys. They are mostly ranged weapons, too unwieldy in close range combat, which is why I used my fists against you.”_

_“Oh, that makes sense,” Ruby admitted. She’d been quick to jump in against him with her semblance and Crescent Rose’s Scythe. Actually, that was pretty much always her go to. Huh, wonder why someone was only countering it now?_

_Kirei kneeled down and brought the black suitcase before him. “I do have another tool I keep with me however. A secret weapon, if you will. Would you like to see it?”_

_“Would I?” Ruby squealed. She raced around to look over Kirei’s shoulder as he undid the case’s clasps._

_Inside was… a pistol._

_“What is it?” she whispered in his ear._

_Kirei chuckled. “It’s called the Thompson Contender. It is a very special firearm.”_

_Special? It was big, sure, a breech loader by the look of it. Maybe made of out metal painted to look like wood? It could probably fire the same caliber ammo as Crescent Rose, but it didn’t even look like it could transform into anything. Lame._

_“What makes it so special?” Ruby asked, trying to be polite. Just like when she had called Crocea Mors a classic._

_“It is the only gun in this world capable of firing a very powerful type of ammunition known as an Origin Round” Kirei explained._

_“How powerful?” Ruby inquired, mildly intrigued._

_Kirei grinned. “Powerful enough to take down a Goliath in one shot.”_

_“Cool,” Ruby murmured. “What’s a Goliath?”_

_“A Grimm the size of an apartment complex.”_

_“Seriously?” Ruby gasped, no longer thinking the weapon was lame at all. “What doesn’t everyone use that stuff then? And where’d you get the gun?”_

_“The ammunition is extremely difficult to procure. I myself have not been able to acquire any since gaining the Contender,” Kirei explained. Ruby got the sense that he was leaving something unsaid but decided to leave it alone for the sake of budging friendship._

_“As for the weapon itself,” Kirei continued, his smile waning ever so slightly. “I acquired it from the daughter of the most interesting man I have ever met. I did not know the woman well, but I held nothing but the highest respect for her father.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Ruby lamented, deciding not pressing for more information about the Origin Rounds was the right choice. “Were you close with him?”_

_“He was there at the brightest moment of my life,” Kirei remarked wistfully. “To face him again would be a dream come true.”_

_Strange wording, but Ruby was starting to realize that Kirei worded a lot of things weirdly. “What was his name?”_

_Kirei’s smirk returned. “Kiritsugu Emiya.”_

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

Yang Xiao Long wanted to punch something.

Okay, she usually wanted to punch something. But this was different. She had just had to sit through stupid smirking Kirei smacking down Team CFVY like they were nothing. It was infuriating to see her friends beaten so easily by that stupid, snide little…

Needless to say, she and Weiss needed to win this match. No one was gonna face Robes in the singles but her.

“Yang,” the blond brawler turned to see her team looking at her with worry. “Are you okay?

“Yeah, fine,” she replied.

Weiss didn’t look convinced. “Let’s focus on the fight in front of us. We can worry about whatever you’re worried about afterward.”

Yang sighed. Weiss was right. She could fantasize about kicking Kirei’s ass later. Right now, her team was counting on her to win this fight.

“Right,” she said, starting to stretch a bit. “You’re from Atlas. What can we expect from these guys?”

“Well,” Weiss began, going into ‘Weiss must explain everything to these foolish mortals’ mode. “Seeing as their kingdom, academy, and armed forces are all merged as one, I think we can expect strict militant fighters with advanced technology and careful rehearsed strategies.”

A gust of wind blew into Yang from behind. She stood up straight for a moment before seeing that their opponents had arrived. The strict militant fighters were…

A cat faunus on roller skates and a dark-skinned dude with a silver trumpet and a _very_ nice hat.

“Or whatever they are,” Weiss amended.

“Hey,” the dark-skinned dude called. “Your Weiss Schnee, right? The heiress?”

“I am,” Weiss declared proudly.

“I guess that means you’re pretty good with dust.”

“I do my best.”

“Yeah, my dad was good too. Owned a little dust shop of his own,” the guy explained. He suddenly glared hard. “Till your father’s company ran him out of business.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Weiss lamented, ashamed.

“Sure, you are,” the guy mocked.

Yang seethed. Where did this guy get off blaming Weiss for what her stupid dad did?

She stepped forward. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“Hey, why don’t you!” the cat faunus girl interrupted. “That’s what you sound like.”

Yang was disarmed. That…was such a lame comeback she literally didn’t know what to say to it.

“Hey, where’d you get your hair extensions?” the girl asked.

“This is just my normal hair,” Yang told her.

“Oooo, really?”

“Yeah. Is that a prob—”

“You should try rollerblading sometime. It’s super fun,” the girl interrupted again. “It’d probably take you a while though cause you’re so, you know, top heavy.”

“Excuse me!” Yang yelled.

The stage began changing for the match. Yang curled her fists. Kirei was annoyingly good at fighting. But Yang knew she was better. He might get one punch in.

This girl? Oh, she wasn’t even gonna get that lucky.

“Ready?” Peter Port announced.

“Three! Two! One! Go!”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Far away from the Vytal Festival, hidden in the crimson leaves of Forever Fall on the outskirts of Vale, was a large camp with a variety of tents.

In one of the particularly large ones, several faunus in Grimm masks gathered around a TV.

“Go kid, kick that scrawny bitch’s ass!” one cheered.

“Why you are rooting for the ones from Atlas?” another asked.

“Because it’s better than rooting for a Schnee, you idiot!” the first one exclaimed. “Besides, the girl on rollerblades is one of us. We all gotta stick together.”

At the back of the tent, a tall young man in black silently walked out. He had bull horns sitting atop his red hair.

He made his way to his own quarters near the center of camp. His men were valiant, but they were utter fools. With the loss of his lieutenant in the Breach, Adam Taurus was starting to believe he was the only intelligent Faunus left in the Vale White Fang.

It made him miss Blake all the more. Then, he berated himself for caring about a traitor and seethed in hatred at her for daring to abandon their cause. To abandon _him_.

He stormed into his tent and his eyes widened. His safe, which had contained many secrets of the White Fang, had its three-inch steel door completely blown off.

Adam rushed over and checked its contents. All the maps and secret codes seemed to be there. In fact, the only thing missing was…

“This beverage is of surprising quality. I’ve noted that for all your world’s virtues, it seems to have a distinct lack of fine alcohol.”

Adam growled. He drew his katana, Wilt, and pointed at the speaker.

Sitting in the corner of the tent was a blonde man with red eyes. He wore a black jacket over a white t-shirt, along with black pants.

In his hands was a now empty glass and a bottle of Mistralian Red, something he, Blake and Ilia had bought a long time ago. Back in better days.

The man smiled.

Suddenly, Adam was surrounded by gleaming golden portals, each one pointing a magnificent weapon straight at him.

“It is the height of insolence to bear a weapon before the king, mongrel.”

Adam narrowed his eyes but reluctantly returned his katana to his sheath, Blush. The portals disappeared. “What do you want, human?”

“Human?” the man chuckled, ignoring the actual question. “I am as far beyond the humans of this world as they are beyond you.”

Adam’s fists closed in rage. “What did you say?”

“It’s quite simple really,” the man continued. “In this world, humanity is constantly besieged by those disgusting creatures of Grimm. Each one is stronger and faster than what ordinary men would consider manageable and there are hordes that are even beyond that. Yet, the humans have thrived, carving out their little kingdoms and settlements, making use of everything available to them in order to claim life from the darkness. If this were my garden, I would be proud to call this humanity my subjects.”

Adam scowled. Again, with his ridiculous notions. Adam couldn’t deny the man was powerful, but his delusions grated on the faunus almost as much as his arrogance. Especially his praise of humanity.

“Faunus have everything humans do and more,” Adam declared. “They don’t deserve to do anything other than serve us.”

“No mongrel deserves life,” the man countered. “And yet they live. You claim that humans should bow before the faunus. And yet they don’t. Because they desire otherwise. And the ability to shape reality to all of one’s desires in defiance of the natural order is perhaps the most impressive of talents. The fact that you can but choose not to simply displays your inferiority, Adam Taurus.”

Adam wanted to rage at the insult but something about it caught his attention. The man admitted that Adam had power, but denied that he was using? “Every day I fight for the White Fang, for the faunus, with everything that I have! And you say I am not using my power?”

The man waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, your grand vision of a faunus ruled Remnant. How gloriously abstract. But that is too far off to be sustaining you now. One needs the joys of pleasure to truly live life. So, tell me Adam, what do you desire?”

Blake.

Adam shook his head. No good would come of those thoughts. “Nothing I can have.”

“Just because you cannot have something do not mean it will bring you no joy to seek it,” the man countered. “I once knew a fool who sought to conquer the entire world. As I am the world’s king, I could not allow that. So, he challenged me, and died, like all who challenge me do. And yet, I have never seen one so content as they fell.”

“Like you said, he was a fool,” Adam remarked.

The man’s eyes glared at the faunus, truly angry for the first time in their conversation. “Indeed. And yet, as one who sought everything he ever wanted, he was greater than you.”

“What I want is impossible!” Adam roared. “Because what she wants is impossible!”

“A woman?” The man laughed. “You could simply take her if you desire her so badly.”

What? No.

Adam glared at the so-called king from behind his mask. Blake had betrayed him. She had abandoned him and the White Fang to fight for humans. He would make her suffer. He would destroy everything she loved.

But he would never do _that._ That was…no.

The man calmed down and smiled at Adam once more. “If you wish for her to come you however, then you could make her dream a reality. It was once yours as well, was it not?”

Of course, it had been. Back when he had first joined the White Fang, when the Belladonnas had taken him in, he had believed that it could be done. He had cheered at every speech Ghira had given. He had hoped that it was a future he could see with Blake, together.

But as time went on, he had decided that it wasn’t a possibility. The humans didn’t want friends, they wanted slaves. Sienna Khan’s rhetoric began to make more sense. They needed to fight for their own rights, their own lives. He had been weak at the time, unable to fight. So, he had sought out the Branwen Tribe…

And that was where he’d learned what it meant to be strong.

Over time, he had come to the realization that his and Blake’s dream would never be. No amount of protests, or force, would make the humans treat them as equals. And they didn’t deserve to be equals either. They were better than any human.

But wasn’t that what the man had said before? That sometimes people defied what they deserved?

The man’s smile became a grin. “What if I told you that, very soon, the impossible would become quite possible.”

Adam looked at him with confusion. The man explained his plan.

Adam stared at the man in shock. It couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t real, just an old legend from the tribe.

But it made so much sense. The man’s abilities. Why someone like him was assisting Cinder. Everything fit.

Except for one thing.

“Why me?” Adam inquired. “Even if I do this, I’ll never be your pawn.”

The man’s crimson eyes twinkled with mirth. “Because as you are Adam Taurus, I find you incredibly dull. You are a tasteless, spiteful fool, who’s been convinced that partnering with someone like Cinder Fall could possibly end well.”

Adam was very much wondering how this was supposed to explain anything.

“But,” the man continued, “I see potential in who you once were. If your hope for a brighter future with this woman is restored, perhaps you will provide me with some modicum of entertainment.”

Adam turned away. Could he really do it? If it would get Blake to love him again, to come back, could he do it? Could he forgive them? Could he be who he once was?

“So then,” the man spoke, “it seems the only question left Adam, is this.”

“How far are you willing to go to get _everything_ that you want?”


	7. The First Shot

“We kicked butt!” Nora screeched at the top of her lungs.

“Nora, please don’t break your bed,” Ren requested flatly.

The energetic girl immediately stopped jumping on her mattress. Unfortunately, she still had to come down from her last bounce and the bed sent her flying into the wall.

“I’m okay!” Nora assured everyone as she pulled her head out of the plaster, quite a sizable hole left behind.

Team RWBY, JNPR, Sun, Neptune, and Arturia all stared at the girl for a moment. The group had congregated in Team JNPR’s room for food and drink until the singles round that afternoon.

Weiss coughed lightly. “Well, that wasn’t how I would have phrased it, but she’s not wrong. We all managed to defeat our opponents quite handily.”

“Indeed,” Arturia concurred. “It is good to know that you all are the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses. The people of Remnant will sleep soundly in the future.” The woman gave her son a proud look as she spoke and Jaune returned it with a grateful smile.

Neptune shimmied up to Arturia. “Such sweet words from such a beautiful lady. I’m honored.”

Arturia raised an eyebrow at the boy. Sun facepalmed at his partner’s action.

Jaune’s face twitched unnaturally. He put a hand on Neptune’s shoulder. “Neptune, can I talk to you outside for a moment.” His voice made it clear that was not a request.

The two walked out and the door closed behind them. The rest of the group soon heard voices from outside.

“Dude, that’s my mom!”

“I can’t help it man! She’s hot! Have you never noticed?”

“Why would I ever want to notice that about my _mom_?”

Everyone in the room looked at Sun. The monkey faunus shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’m not his dad.”

Suddenly Pyrrha’s scroll went off. She picked it up and turned the device on. She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“What is it?” Ruby asked.

“It’s a message from Professor Goodwitch,” Pyrrha told them. “She says Professor Ozpin needs to speak with me.”

Arturia froze. “The headmaster wishes to speak with you?”

“What about?” Blake inquired.

“It doesn’t say,” Pyrrha responded.

“Ooooo,” Nora hummed. “Maybe it’s some secret meeting of how to win the tournament for Beacon!” She looked at Sun and then shuffled next to Pyrrha’s ear. “The enemy must never know.”

“Doubtful,” Weiss interjected. “Still it could be some sort of information about the singles round.”

“Wouldn’t I be called up too, then?” Yang pointed out.

Pyrrha shrugged. “I guess the only way to find out is to get down there and see what it is.”

The young huntress opened the door only to be met with the sight of Jaune and Neptune stretching out each other’s cheeks like they were made of rubber. Both turned to look at their friend.

Pyrrha chuckled at the sight. She made to go but felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Arturia.

“Pyrrha,” the other woman began. She paused for a moment, looking down at her feet before returning her gaze to her son’s partner. “The headmaster is a good man, but…sometimes he can ask too much. Know that you can say no.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha uttered, not really sure how to respond to that. “Um, thank you, Mrs. Arc.”

Arturia let go and Pyrrha walked off.

Jaune separated himself from Neptune and came up next to his mother. “Don’t worry, mom. Pyrrha’s never done anything wrong in her life. The headmaster probably just wants to congratulate her on how she’s been a great example of what Beacon stands for or something like that.”

Arturia didn’t seem convinced. The headmaster had unnerved her greatly since their last encounter. How could he not, given their history?

 

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_Arturia waited patiently as the elevator climbed Beacon Tower. Her face was set in a resolute stare. The talk with the Schnee Specialist had been enjoyable but it was over now._

_It was time to find her son._

_The elevator dinged, and the door opened. Arturia stepped into a large office with massive clock gears taking the place of a ceiling._

_Behind a black desk sat a man dressed in green cloths and silver hair. His hands sat atop a long cane and there was a playful smile on his face._

_Arturia hesitated. There was something familiar about this man. She had felt it in the courtyard as well. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but he had a manic twinkle in his eye that unsettled her greatly._

_“Greetings, Mrs. Arc,” the man said._

_Arturia raised an eyebrow. “And you, Headmaster Ozpin,” she replied in turn. “I must say, I thought to have you at a disadvantage. I did not expect you to know my name before I introduced myself. Have we met before?”_

_“Before?” Ozpin chuckled. “Indeed, we have. I must say, I’m a little disappointed that you can’t recognize me.”_

_“Then I must apologize, sir,” Arturia answered. “For you are a stranger to me.”_

_“Perhaps,” he mused. “But then again, strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet.”_

_Arturia froze. Those were words of wisdom that she had passed on to her children for years. Jaune never used them unless he was truly terrified, so he could have said them in front of this authority figure._

_But with the twinkle in his eyes, Arturia’s mind flashed back to when she had first heard them. Back when an unknown knight named Lancelot had first come to her kingdom. She had been hesitant in accepting him into her newly made court, until those words were spoken to her by…_

_No._

_Ozpin’s smile widened into a grin. “It’s good to see you again, Arthur.”_

_“Merlin,” Arturia breathed, for she had no air to be spared for speech. “How?”_

_“Through a darker story than I would wish,” the man explained, his face downcast for the first time since he saw her._

_“But, you were trapped,” she stuttered. “Trapped on Avalon until the end of the universe. How could you have possibly escaped?”_

_“I didn’t escape,” Ozpin- Merlin told her. “I was kicked out. Someone far more important needed the room.”_

_“Who could possibly have the power to do that?” Arturia wondered._

_“Gaea herself.”_

_Arturia was quickly getting tired of being stunned into silence._

_Merlin continued. “At the end of the Fourth Holy Grail War, a dark presence emerged from the chalice. Though the cup itself was purified, the rest of the world was faced with a far worse problem. Within a month, humanity was on the edge of extinction. When the corruption gained enough strength, it struck at the spirit of the world itself. She was wounded, barely managing to escape to Avalon. Seeing no other option, she freed me, took my place and locked the doors behind her. I’ve been fighting her war ever since.”_

_“But, if that’s true,” Arturia said, and she had no doubt it was. Merlin was annoying most of the time but when he got serious, wise kings listened. “Why are you here in some other world training huntsmen?”_

_Ozpin smiled sadly. “It’s called Remnant for a reason.”_

_And just like that, the pretty little world Arturia had spent thirty years building for herself shattered._

_The grail hadn’t sent her to another realm. It had sent her forward in time._

_“The battle between the corruption and Gaea reshaped the planet’s surface and shattered the moon,” Ozpin explained. “We stand now on the husk that remains. Fortunately, our enemy did not escape the clash unscathed. It had to regroup, heal, strategize and my presence prevented it from claiming total victory. It adapted however. Changed from an it into a…she. The creatures of Grimm emerged not long after.”_

_“But then, if this is not another world, then how do you explain dust? Or aura? The faunus?” Arturia yelled._

_“Crystalized prana left behind by Gaia’s wounds and the rapid depopulation of mages,” Ozpin revealed. “The faunus seemed to be an extreme form of rapid evolution influenced by the magics that were affecting the atmosphere right after the battle. As for aura, well, I needed fighters and not enough people had magic circuits so I…improvised. Think of it as the power being constantly spread out in the body instead of being focused into concentrated streams. You can’t do as much, but when all you need is a hammer…”_

_“Would those with magic circuits still be able to use them after having their aura unlocked?”_

_“Possibly,” Ozpin scratched his chin. “I’ve never exactly had the chance to test it. Since aura became common, magic circuits have slowly died out. I haven’t seen one in eons.”_

_“What about your own?” Arturia accused._

_“Do I look the same as I did when we last saw each other?” Ozpin remarked. Off her silence, he continued. “Gaea wasn’t sure that I could win in one lifetime, so she altered my curse from Avalon before I left. Each time I die, I move on to another soul and merge with it. My original circuits didn’t survive the first journey.”_

_Arturia shook her head. “I don’t understand.”_

_“Merlin was the foundation. Ozpin is the building,” the man said, his quirky smile back on his face. “It’s really quite simple, your grace.”_

_Arturia’s confusion dropped away and her eyes focused like daggers on the headmaster. In the blink of an eye, she had Excalibur out and pointed at her old mentor._

_“Do. Not. Call me that.” Arturia seethed._

_Ozpin held up his hands in surrender. Arturia shook her head and lowered her sword._

_“Despite how…well, earth-shattering this is, it is not why I’m here.” Arturia closed her eyes for a moment. Stay focused on family. Don’t be a hero. “Where is my son?”_

_“Young Mr. Arc has just led his team to victory in the first round of the Vytal Festival,” Ozpin informed her. “You must be very proud.”_

_“He should not be here,” Arturia growled. “How could you even let him into the school? He didn’t even know what aura was?”_

_“His transcripts indicated otherwise,” the headmaster responded._

_“Transcripts?”_

_Ozpin typed something on his scroll. Arturia’s own rang and she brought it out. Inside was a new message. Opening it, the Arc matriarch’s eyes widened._

_“Top of his class? Training in a dozen sword styles? The Vacuo Academy for—he’s never even been to Vacuo!” Arturia shouted._

_“Really? I never would have guessed,” Ozpin replied._

_His cheeky grin said otherwise._

_“These are forgeries! You knew they were forgeries the moment you saw them!”_

_“Not true,” Ozpin protested. “I had to finish reading them to know for sure.”_

_Arturia seethed. “Why would you let him in?”_

_Ozpin took on a solemn look, the same one Merlin had worn when he had warned of the risks involved with pulling Caliburn from the stone. “I saw promise in him. How could I not when he’s your son?”_

_“Where is he?”_

_“I heard that he and some friendly teams are having a little get together, a party to celebrate their success in the tournament,” Ozpin informed her. “I sent his dorm’s location with his transcripts.”_

_Arturia turned to walk out, but the headmaster called out behind her. “Arthur, there is more I can tell you about what’s going on. There are maidens and relics of great import that you should be—”_

_“I don’t care, Merlin,” Arturia cut him off. “I’m not here to get involved in this war. I’m here to keep my son out of it.”_

_“You are a hero—”_

_“No, I’m not!” Arturia roared, reeling on her foster father. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I am no hero, I am no savior, and I am certainly no King of Knights! I refuse!”_

_“A hero can save many,” Ozpin argued calmly._

_“Heroes die,” Arturia retorted._

_A vision of Lancelot howling in madness. Tristan leaving Camelot declaring she knew nothing of the feelings of others. Mordred demanding to know where her hatred came from._

_“And everything they care about pays the price for their foolishness.”_

_Irisviel. Maiya. Lancer._

_Kiritsugu._

_“I am king no more, Merlin. I wish you well in your war.” Arturia finished._

_She entered the elevator and hit the down button. The door closed._

_Ozpin sat down on his desk. A sad smile on his face._

_“And I wish your peace will hold, my dear King of Knights. You deserve it.”_

_Then he recalled the Queen’s pawns in play._

_“Though I fear what we deserve is so rarely what we get.”_

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Cinder sat on her bed, a glass of wine in her hand and a pleased smile on her face. Everything was going according to plan.

With Mercury and Kirei’s easy victory in the doubles, they would move on to the singles round, where she would pit Mercury against that hotheaded bimbo Yang Xiao-Long. Her little assassin would throw the fight and then, with some assistance from Emerald’s semblance, the blonde brawler would attack her defeated opponent completely unprovoked. The resulting negativity would set the mistrustful mood she needed for Nikos’ match with the Atlas android. After all, one could not build a house before first laying the groundwork.

And since no one had even seen Emerald in combat, there would be no chance of anyone deducing her illusions were at work. She supposed she did have Kirei to thank for that boon.

She had been wary of the man when they had first entered their alliance. She had encountered him chasing her prey after all. Still, as a man, it wasn’t as if he could claim the maiden’s powers and she had confirmed his mysterious associate was not in the running either. He was no threat to her rise.

Whether he had been after Amber for some personal grudge or some other reason, she couldn’t deny the man was helpful. He filled the fourth slot on their team quite neatly, freeing Neo up to prepare for breaking Roman out of Ironwood’s custody and reducing the risk of them being discovered. His combat skills were unsettling at times, but she’d met Tyrian, so it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen worse.

The only irritating thing about him was his independence. He recognized their alliance as just that, an alliance between equals. He did not wait for her orders to act, going out and integrating himself into that annoyance Ruby Rose’s friend group. She didn’t know what his interest was in the silver-eyed girl, but she had a feeling it would complicate her plans.

She had to get him under control. Which is why she’d denied his request to take Mercury’s place against Xiao-Long.

Her scroll suddenly rang.

Cinder looked at the caller’s number. It was unknown. Meaning someone misdialed, or…

The half-maiden answered the call. “Hello.”

“Cinder, my dear. How goes your little scheme?” a rich, dark voice asked jovially.

Cinder shuddered at the sound of one of the few beings on Remnant that she feared. “It goes well, Mistress. Everything should be done by tonight.”

“Good, good,” Salem congratulated from the other end. “I have noticed that your group is larger than you informed me of in your last report.”

Cinder swore internally. Of course, Salem would be keeping an eye on the Vytal Festival.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “His name is Kirei Kotomine. He was also pursuing the Fall Maiden and after Qrow Branwen’s interference we decided cooperation was in our best interests.”

“ _Kirei_ _Kotomine_.” Salem said the name like an incantation. “It’s been nineteen years since I’ve heard that name.”

Cinder raised an eyebrow. Kirei barely looked twenty, how could the Queen know of him? For that matter, what could he have had to do with the events of nineteen years ago?

Cinder admittedly didn’t know much about it, other than it had been quite a large clash between Salem and Ozpin’s forces. The former Team STRQ had been involved and Salem’s at the time large inner circle had been reduced to just Hazel. Watts and Tyrian were recruited afterwards.

“Be wary of that one, Cinder,” Salem warned. “If he is on your side, you can have no finer ally. But alienate him at all and he will prove himself a whirlwind that will sweep all your plans to dust. His master is even worse.”

Cinder was shocked. She has never heard her mistress speak of another with such dread.

“I am sending Hazel to observe future events.”

“My lady, that is unnecessary,” Cinder protested. “I have this under control.”

“Do not question me, Cinder,” Salem scolded. Cinder recoiled but her master’s fury quickly quieted. “Do not worry. He will not interfere unless he is needed. It is up to you to make sure he is not.”

Salem ended the call. Cinder sat on her bed, wine forgotten on the ground.

Hazel could not be allowed to steal her hour of glory. She would have the maiden’s powers. She would bring Salem the relic. She would be the one Remnant would fear.

Which meant she had to make sure everything was under control.

The evil mastermind sighed. It seemed that she would have to grant Kirei’s wish. She couldn’t afford the man deciding she wasn’t worth helping, not when she was so close.

He would have his duel with Xiao-Long. He would do as Mercury would have and Emerald would ensure the rest.

What was the worst that could happen?

 

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Yang was pumped.

Here she was, a first-year from Patch, about to fight in the one on one finals of the Vytal festival in front of the entire world. But she really shouldn’t be surprised. She was awesome after all.

The stadium was packed, and the crowd was wild. Port and Oobleck had to shout over the mics just to be heard. The energy was infectious.

Yang glanced down the line of competitors. Aside from her, there was Pyrrha, Sun, Ruby’s friend Penny, a few other kids she didn’t know…

And him.

She couldn’t wait to wipe that smug smirk off his face.

The match randomizer went wild and Yang saw her face appear on the screen.

A few moments later, it was joined by Kirei’s.

Yang didn’t think she could have been happier than she was at that moment.

As the other combatants left the stage, she lined herself up with Kirei. “Guess I finally get to see what you’re made of Robes!” she shouted. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you one free punch!”

“How pitiful that you think I’d want anything from a pathetic cur like you,” Kirei snarled. His eyes glared.

Yang was stunned. That wasn’t normal. She’d been antagonizing Kirei for months and all she’d gotten was passive deflection. Where was this rage coming from? It was actually kind of scary.

Kirei took her silence as a sign of confusion. “You don’t understand?” he asked mockingly. “Then let me explain it. Your sister, your teammates, even that fool Jaune Arc, they all have goals, dreams, something they strive for and seek with every fiber of their being. But you? You have no asperation, no wish. You just follow them on their paths like a lost puppy, fighting any battle so they don’t have to. And they let you, because you’re useful as a meat shield.”

Fear turned to rage as Yang curled her fists. How dare he?

“Eventually though,” Kirei continued, “there’s going to be a blow you can’t take. You will be broken. And they will leave you to be broken. Because they have goals more important than a sad little girl, desperate for love!”

Yang’s eyes turned red as she glared at Kirei with all her hatred.

Kirei’s smirk returned to his face. “It’s really no wonder Raven abandoned you.”

Yang’s hair ignited, her fury too great to question how Kirei knew that name.

“Ready?” Port announced. “Three! Two—”

“AAARRRGGGHHHH!” Yang roared. She fired her gauntlets back and shot through the air with her fist raised. She aimed for his smile.

That god damned smile.

 

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Kirei was pleased. His words had the desired effect.

And she even came before the match began. It seemed Cinder would have her outrage after all. How lovely.

But he wasn’t doing this for the public. He was doing this for himself. For his joy.

As Yang flew towards him, he activated the strength his executor training had earned him and added it to the power of his aura.

“ _Reinforcement_ ,” he muttered, lighting glowing blue lines along his right arm. He hadn’t expected Kiritsugu to survive this attack in their duel, but he had, and it simply would not do to be surprised similarly by this heathen.

In the blink of an eye, he entered moving stance and in a flash, was under Ms. Xiao Long’s guard. The poor girl’s red eyes didn’t even have time to widen before Kirei struck.

‘ **Eight Postures of the Buddha Guards.’**

The punch with the power to reach infinity in all eight directions struck Yang in the diaphragm. The girl bent all the way over Kirei’s fist for a single moment.

And then her aura shattered, and she went flying across the arena.

Yang struck the stage protective barrier with the force of a rocket. Had it been a physical wall, it would have crushed beneath the force.

The girl’s limp form stood for a moment. For just a moment, Kirei wondered if she had replicated Kiritsugu’s feat, if she had survived his most deadly Bajiquan attack unscathed.

But then she crumpled to the ground and he knew he had nothing to fear.

Kirei noted the Atlesian knights who had narrowed in on her position, before likely to arrest her, now calling for a medic.

“I… I don’t completely understand what just happened, folks,” Bartholomew Oobleck admitted from the booth. The large screen in the stadium played back the brief clash for the audience. In the corner, Yang’s aura meter was empty. “But it seems Ms. Xiao-Long attacked her opponent before the match began and now she’s…she’s on the ground.”

Kirei narrowed his eyes at Yang. A dribble of crimson was slowly falling from her mouth.

That was not what he wanted.

“Yang!” squealed a high-pitched voice in horror. Ruby Rose flew in from the stands in a storm of rose petals. She rushed past the security team and knelt beside her sister’s fallen form. There were tears streaming down her face.

Kirei began walking towards his exit and smirked.

Much better.


	8. Contemplation

_“This is Lisa Lavender reporting live from the Vytal Festival in Vale. In a shocking turn of events, the first match of the finals ended before it could begin when Yang Xiao-Long of Beacon attacked Kirei Kotomine of Haven before the fight began. Mr. Kotomine responded by beating Ms. Xiao-Long into unconsciousness. No official comment has been given by either academy—”_

_“This is just wrong,” a man yelled into the camera. “I don’t know what Ozpin and Lionheart are teaching these kids, but that kind of brutality is not what being a huntsman is about—”_

_“It’s just terrible,” a woman declared. “That girl attacked first, but that boy shouldn’t have gone that far.”_

_“The Vytal Festival is supposed to be about peace,” someone else stated. “This kind of unchecked violence is simply disgraceful.”_

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Ruby remembered a lot of bad days.

The first time she’d scratched Crescent Rose.

Weiss and Blake’s fight about the White Fang.

The day her dad had sat alone in the dark and Uncle Qrow told her that her mom wasn’t coming back from her trip.

But staring at a comatose Yang? That was the worst.

Her sister laid in a hospital bed covered in white sheets. She was hooked up to a lot of fancy machines, including an IV and something connected to her by a breath mask. To the side, a heart monitor sounded a steady beep.

Ruby sat down in a plastic chair next to the bed and took Yang’s hand in her own. She felt something on her own shoulder, and turned to see Weiss giving her a grim smile. She turned to her other side to see Blake gazing at her partner. Her amber eyes were unfocused, like she didn’t know what to think.

At the foot of the bed, General Ironwood looked at her glumly. “Your sister is lucky to be alive, Ruby. Mr. Kotomine’s assault shattered her rib cage and her back was severely injured when she struck the barrier. There is even bruising on her heart and lungs.”

Ruby got the picture. If Yang’s aura hadn’t been as strong as it was, second only to Jaune’s, her sister would be dead.

“Is she going to be okay?” Ruby asked, her voice quivering.

The General sighed. “The doctors taking care of her are the best Atlas has to offer. They say that she’ll make it. After that, it’s anyone’s guess.”

“What happens to her when she wakes up?” Weiss inquired.

“There will be no charges pressed if that’s what you're referring to,” Ironwood replied. “Against her or Mr. Kotomine if he is found.”

“What?” Blake sneered. “You just said her nearly killed her!”

“After she attacked him before the match could begin,” the General countered. “Even then, it is doubtful that he intended to do this kind of damage. No one intends to do this with a single punch through full aura.”

“Yang hated him,” Blake argued.

“But he didn’t hate her,” Ruby squeaked, her head still down. “He didn’t hate her. He didn’t hate anyone. Why would he do this?”

Tears pooled in the red reaper’s eyes. Weiss squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. Blake backed away from Ironwood, her head bowed in shame.

The General himself grimaced. “We don’t know Ruby. No one has seen him since the fight, not even his team.”

“Have they been questioned?” Blake asked.

“Blake,” Weiss snapped. “They’re probably as confused as we are.”

Ironwood nodded. “They were. They had no idea this would happen. No one did.”

The room went silence for several moments. Ruby raised her head.

“Did anyone tell dad?”

“Your uncle called Taiyang the moment it happened.” Ironwood informed her. “I’ve sent a shuttle to Patch to pick him up. He should be here by tomorrow.”

Ruby nodded glumly. “Thank you, General.”

Ironwood gave her a small smile. “No need Miss. Rose. And don’t worry about your sister. She’s a huntress. She’ll pull through.”

The general gave her a small bow and left the room.

Blake scoffed, causing Weiss to raise an eyebrow at her. “Blake, this is hard for everyone, but we have to stay calm. You heard the general, she’s going to be fine.”

“He said she’d live, not that she’d be fine,” Blake shot back. She ran a hand through her dark hair. “They were talking.”

“Who?”

“Yang and Kirei,” she explained. “Before the fight, I heard Kirei say something to her, I don’t know what. But when he was done, Yang’s hair was on fire and she was trying to take his head off.”

“He might have just been talking trash,” Weiss pointed out. “Yang nearly lost her mind when Neon did in our match. It’s not too much of a stretch to say Kirei just did it better.”

“No,” Blake refuted. “It was something else. He provoked her somehow.”

“How do you know? You said you couldn’t make it out.” Blake had better hearing than the rest of them thanks to having two sets of ears, but they hadn’t been close, and the crowd had been loud.

Blake kept silent.

“Blake, how do you know?” Weiss inquired.

“Because it has to be!” Blake yelled.

Weiss took a step back, shocked at her normally calm teammate’s intensity. Ruby didn’t even look up.

Blake took a few deep breaths and looked away from her friends. “In the White Fang, I had a mentor. A partner, Adam Taurus. We met when we were kids waving signs at protests and we both ended up getting swept up by Sienna Khan’s ideology. He left for a bit, said he needed to find some bandit clan for training, and when he came back he was, different. More spiteful. And on our missions, people started dying. First it was an accident, then it was self-defense, then…then he stopped bothering with excuses.”

She turned her gaze to Yang. “I can’t watch that happened again.”

The black bowed girl ran out of the room.

“Blake!” Weiss yelled, making to follow, but she stopped herself.

“Go after her,” Ruby said, keeping her eyes on Yang.

Weiss turned to face her. “Are you sure?”

Ruby scoffed. “It should be me, really. I’m the leader after all, but…”

“I get it,” her partner insisted. “I’ll help Blake. You stay with your sister.”

“Thanks Weiss.”

The heiress smiled. “That’s what partners are for, you dolt. I’m here to help you carry your load.”

Ruby grinned for the first time since Yang’s injury. “Right.”

Weiss began to leave when Ruby spoke up again. “Weiss.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a good partner.”

Weiss got a bit of her old haughty look in her eyes. “And you, Ruby Rose, are an adequate leader.”

Ruby chuckled at that. Weiss smiled and went after their teammate.

The red reaper’s grin disappeared, and she clutched her sister’s hand ever tighter.

“Hey,” a gruff voice called from the door. Ruby didn’t need to look to see who it was.

“How you holding up, pipsqueak?” Uncle Qrow asked.

“I don’t know.” Ruby stared at Yang’s unnaturally lifeless face, like someone had made a statue of her sister and switched the two when no one was looking. “How could Kirei do this? He’s my friend, I know it.”

Qrow shrugged. “He reacted in the moment—”

“But this is a _bad_ thing.” Ruby cried. “This is a bad thing. This is something that Torchwick or the White Fang would do. Something a bad guy would do. And Kirei…he’s not a bad guy.”

Qrow sighed and pulled up a chair. He sat down next to his niece. “Ruby, you need to understand. Good and bad, they’re more interchangeable than they seem. Sometimes a person does a bad thing for a good reason, like your friend probably did here. I’m still gonna put him six feet under, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy.”

Ruby nodded, but a disturbing thought snuck into her mind. “Does that mean a person can do a good thing for a bad reason?”

Qrow paused, carefully debating his answer. That let Ruby know how serious this was. Uncle Qrow never thought before he spoke.

“Yes,” he eventually declared. “But that’s a rarer thing than you’d think.”

“Because doing the right thing is always good?” Ruby guessed hopefully.

“Because people rarely think they have a bad reason,” Qrow informed her. He ran a hand through his messy hair. “Ruby, most people are selfish. They want what they want, and they focus on that before anything else. From their point of view, they’re justified, and anything they do to advance to that goal is justified in turn.”

“But then why doesn’t everybody just work together to get what they want?” Ruby asked.

Qrow scoffed. “If only it was that simple. But things rarely work out that everyone gets what they want. Sometimes if two people have different goals, only one of them can be achieved, even if both of them could be considered good.”

Ruby hung her head in thought. “But if they’re both good, how do you know which one should be…made into reality?”

“In the end, it comes down to why you want it and what you’re willing to do for it,” Qrow finished.

The old man rose. “I’ve got a meeting with Oz pretty soon. You sure you’ll be alright here by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got a lot to think about.” Ruby replied.

Qrow grimaced, but left his niece alone with her thoughts.

Ruby stared at her sister. _‘Why did you attack, Yang? And why did Kirei nearly kill you?’_

 

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Cinder seethed in the Team CKSM dorm room asking herself that very same question.

Mercury and Emerald did their best to keep to the sides as much as possible, desperate not to become the most convenient target for their mistress’ wrath.

The bastard had gone completely off the rails. His attack on Xiao-Long had drawn far too much attention to their team. If she wasn’t as good as she was, General Ironwood might have figured out who they were.

At least he had laid the groundwork as promised. Though the outrage was split between Beacon and Haven, it was still there and so would work adequately for her plans.

She would still incinerate the bastard for catching her off guard like that, but she would at least make his death quick.

Her scroll began to ring. She had a pretty good idea who it was.

She answered. “Hello Kirei.”

“Greetings, Cinder,” he responded. “I hope my actions haven’t caused you too much trouble. I’ve been watching the news and I’d say the people are quite galvanized.”

“You did well,” Cinder relayed through gritted teeth. “Though next time I would appreciate a warning.”

“Duly noted. I shall endeavor to provide one the next time my plans may inconvenience you.”

 Cinder did not like that he was anticipating a next time. “For now, I’d like you to lay low, Kirei. Your discovery and interrogation will merely complicate matters for tonight.”

“Then the plan is still in motion. I shall inform my associate.”

“Yes, you do that,” Cinder mocked. “Kirei?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you deviate from the plan at all?”

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she knew the man was smirking. “One’s desires involve the suffering of another. To aid in that, I need Ms. Xiao-Long to survive what’s coming. I believe getting her out with the medical evacuation would provide a better chance of that than participating in the battle.”

“How charitable.”

“Not at all,” Kirei insisted. “Best of luck tonight, Cinder.”

“And you, Kirei.” Cinder hung up the call.

She considered for a moment if that could truly be Kirei’s reasoning. Doubtful. He nearly killed the girl with his attack, he couldn’t have known she would survive.

He had something planned for the blonde brawler. Something likely quite unpleasant.

Lucky for the girl, Cinder was in both a spiteful and merciful mood.

She turned to Mercury. “After you’re done with the broadcast, I need you to make a little trip to the infirmary…”

 

* * *

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****

Kirei hung up his call with Cinder and placed another. A haughty voice greeted him when the line connected.

“Quite the display today, holy man,” his associate greeted.

“Yes, it was even more delightful than I had anticipated,” Kirei remarked. He had intended to savor Ruby’s grief over the death of her sister, but to know that she survived, that the mighty bonfire that was Yang Xiao-Long had been reduced to struggling embers and would likely never blaze again? He found that that brought him more joy than if he had killed her.

Oh, life’s little fortunate surprises. Speaking of…

“You may wish to instruct young Adam to head to the infirmary when the attack begins,” Kirei suggested. “He will find a prime opportunity to endear himself to Miss Belladonna there.”

“Your doing, I assume.”

“In part, but Cinder will offer up the sacrificial lamb, even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

“Ah yes, our dear Ms. Fall,” his associate sneered. “Are you sure she will be able to remove the keystone that blocks my path?”

“Once she has the maiden’s full power, not even Ozpin will be able to stop her,” Kirei reassured him. “The bounded field will crumble, and we will be able to begin the ritual.”

“If not for that cursed thing I’d have taken what we needed already,” the man grumbled. He’d never admit that he’d grumbled, a king does not do such things, but Kirei was confident he had. “Finally, I shall reclaim the treasure that was stolen from me.”

Kirei realized he had neglected to inform his associate of a crucial fact. “My liege, I think it may interest you to know that Yang Xiao-Long, the girl I’ve put into a coma, is the daughter of Raven Branwen.”

“Mongrels are numerous and forgettable, Kirei. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“The thief with the odachi, my king.”

Even from across the call, Kirei heard him crush the wine glass in his hand. “Ah, that mongrel. And her progeny survived your assault?”

“Yes, my king.”

A few moments of silence passed. Then the man spoke again. “So be it. If fate has decreed she shall live, then her current injuries shall be sufficient for her part of her mother’s punishment.”

Kirei wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not by that, but it was what it was. “As you command.”

“Prepare yourself for tonight Kirei. I will not tolerate another failure.”

Kirei knew what he referred to. The ambush of Amber had gone well, but the girl had proven clever enough to escape them temporarily. He would have chased her down, but Cinder beat him to her and split the maiden’s power. Then, Branwen had brought the girl Beacon, complicating matters further. The alliance with Cinder was irritating, but Kirei believed a full power maiden would be useful in taking the bounded field out of play.

After that, his associate could intervene and then nothing on Remnant could stand before them.

“It will be done, my king.”

His associate ended the call. Not for the first time, Kirei wondered if he really made the best choice joining up with him. And like all the other times, he quickly surmised that the pleasures experienced by his side far outweighed any danger. He had lived a collected man too long, now he would live life to the fullest.

Speaking of, he still had more joy he could squeeze out of his potent source.

He found Ruby’s name in his contacts, a plethora of frenzied messages below it, and sent a location.

 

* * *

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****

Pyrrha leaned against the courtyard wall, her mind swarming with indecision. A brown leaf floated down in front of her. Her mind flashed to Amber, near dead in that pod.

And the choice she had to make.

Pyrrha had shown talent in combat at a younger age than most children could read and write. Her mother had instantly found her the best trainer she could and sought the best weapons they could afford. Before long, she was being acclaimed as a prodigy and all the fame that came with it followed her first tournament.

She never regretted the fighting. She had drowned in the loneliness it left her, but the fighting itself? No.

The fighting gave her peace. In the arena, it was just her against her opponent, her skill against theirs. It was as lonely as her life was, but it felt more honest somehow. Like there wasn’t any other way it could be.

Then, she came to Beacon, and she found that there was. A much, much better way. Her team. Team JNPR. With crazy, energetic Nora. Wise, stoic Ren.

And Jaune.

Wasn’t he a massive cluster of emotions?

He had helped her find friends. He wore a dress to keep his word to her. He made her smile, truly smile, when for so long she thought she would only be able to show the one for the cameras.

All those things and more were why she loved him.

Plus, his mother seemed to like her!

She had gained so much at Beacon with Team JNPR and Team RWBY that she thought she’d never have. And now with Ozpin’s proposal in front of her, her faith wavered. She wouldn’t stop helping people. She still wanted to be a huntress.

But did she really want to be a hero?

“Hey,” she heard. She turned to see Jaune coming over to sit next to her, a stick of cotton candy in his hand.

 Behind him, she spied Arturia, Nora, and Ren around the corner of the building. The blonde woman spotted her son approaching Pyrrha and waved Ren and Nora off. Nora got the picture and dragged Ren away.

Arturia hid behind the wall, ‘discreetly’ holding out her scroll to record what she hoped would be Jaune’s first kiss.

Pyrrha wasn’t sure whether to feel awkward or not, but then Jaune sat down beside her and the butterflies in her stomach went wild. He offered her the cotton candy. “You look like you need this more than me.”

She took it from him, but the maiden decision kept her from fully appreciating the gesture. “Thank you, Jau—” Her voice stopped when he took her hand in his. The cotton candy fell from her other hand. She was fairly certain she heard Arturia squee from behind the wall.

Jaune looked her in the eye. “Look,” he started, in his hesitant way that let you know he’d figured out what he wanted to say but not how to say it. “I know something’s on your mind. And it’s been there since before all this stuff with Yang and Kirei, so...” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m your partner, and you’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, how can I help?”

Pyrrha smiled and nuzzled into his shoulder. “You’re already doing it.”

The two of them sat there for a few moments, some of the best of Pyrrha’s life. The autumn breeze warmed their skin.

Another leaf dropped to the pavement before them.

Pyrrha’s smile faded as her worries returned. She moved away from her partner. “Jaune, I don’t know what to do,” she confessed.

“What do you mean?” he inquired.

She turned back to him. “Do you believe in destiny?”

Jaune wasn’t expecting that. “Oh gee, I don’t know. I guess that depends on how you view it.”

“When I think of destiny, I don’t think of some predetermined fate you can’t escape,” Pyrrha explained. “But rather, some sort of final goal. Something you work towards your entire life.”

“Okay. Yeah, I can see that,” Jaune concurred.

“Well,” Pyrrha started, unsure how to discuss this without revealing the source of her worries. Something she knew she couldn’t do. “What would you do if something came along that you never expected, something that had the potential to stand between you and your destiny?”

“What? Like what?”

“Or what if you could suddenly fulfill your destiny in an instant?” Pyrrha continued, quickly growing more intense. “But at the cost of who you were?”

“Pyrrha, you’re not making any sense.”

“None of this makes sense!” Pyrrha declared. She rose and walked away from her leader. “This isn’t how things were supposed to happen.”

“I’m sorry! Please, I’m just trying to understand what’s wrong.” Jaune frantically apologized.

Off to the side, Arturia put away her scroll. A worried frown formed on her lips.

“I’ve always felt that I was destined to become a huntress,” Pyrrha revealed. “To protect the world. And it’s becoming increasingly clear that my feelings were right. But…” she turned to Jaune, “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Of course, you can,” Jaune smiled encouragingly. “The Pyrrha Nikos I know would never back down from a challenge. And if you really believe that it’s your destiny to save the world, you can’t let anything stand in your way.”

Pyrrha choked and her hands covered her face. She turned away from Jaune as she desperately fought back sobs.

Jaune’s smile disappeared and he held out his hand to his partner. “Pyrrha?”

“Stop,” she pleaded.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Stop!” Pyrrha shouted, her hand going out on instinct. Jaune’s armor dragged him off the ground.

In a flash, Arturia was there. She grabbed Jaune’s hand and keep him from flying any farther.

“Pyrrha!” she yelled.

Pyrrha opened her eyes and looked on in horror at what she was doing. She immediately dropped her hand. Her control over Jaune’s armor faded and the blond boy smacked his face into the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha sobbed. She ran off in shame.

Jaune tried to get up and follow. “Pyrrha wait!”

He tripped back to the ground, but Arturia kept him from harm. “Don’t. You can’t help her now.”

“What did I say?” he wondered guiltily.

“Nothing you could have known not to,” his mother assured him. “Go meet up with Ren and Nora. I’ll help Pyrrha.”

“How?”

Arturia frowned. “Call it knowledge of a similar experience.”

Jaune didn’t understand, but it wasn’t like he had to. If his mom could help Pyrrha, he wanted her to, one hundred percent. His partner was one of the best people he had ever met. She was his best friend.

She deserved to be happy.

He confirmed his mother’s words with a nod and she raced off after Pyrrha.

 

* * *

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Arturia found the poor girl steadying herself over a fountain, trying to wash away her tears with its contents.

“Pyrrha,” Arturia approached gently.

The girl whirled around to face her and backed into the fountain rim like a cornered dog. “Mrs. Arc! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to attack—”

“I know,” Arturia cut her off. She placed both her hands on the child’s shoulders. “I know you would never willingly hurt Jaune. But I also know that his words did not calm you as he intended.”

“What gave it away?” Pyrrha responded, uncharacteristically snarky. The girl thought for a moment before looking at Arturia in horror. “You knew he’d ask me. That’s why you told me I could refuse. You know about the maiden.”

Arturia raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what that is. But you are not the first person… Ozpin, has asked to take up a burden for the sake of others. For me, it was a sword and a crown. For you, I assume it is this maiden?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Doing it could protect so many people. But I’m not sure if I can give up who I am.”

“The fact that you’re worried about what you have to give up, is a good indication that you can do it without having to,” Arturia advised her. Pyrrha raised her head, confused. Arutria continued, “When the headmaster offered me my burden, he told me that I would become inhuman, lose all that allowed me to understand others. Foolish as I was, I took it up anyway without a second thought. I was so concerned with being the perfect leader that I never took the time to learn how to be a person, never learned how precious it was. And that led to disaster.”

Arturia’s eyes clouded for a moment before she looked reassuringly at Pyrrha. “Later, I met an…interesting man. He called himself the King of Conquerors. He showed me another way of doing things. I don’t think he was completely right, but his view undeniably had merits. He believed a hero is never alone, for those who stood with them, who championed their dreams with them, would always be with them.”

“He sounds like an extraordinary leader,” Pyrrha remarked.

“He was a pig,” Arturia sneered, before she let out a reluctant sigh. “But he knew himself and accepted who that person was. His men followed him for that reason.”

Arturia squeezed Pyrrha’s shoulders. “You know yourself, better than you think you do. Choose to take up the burden of this maiden. Or don’t. But make sure it is your choice. Not Ozpin’s, not the world’s, yours. Jaune and the rest of your friends will stand with you.”

Pyrrha nodded, her eyes not dry, but without new tears forming. “Thank you, Mrs. Arc.”

Arturia smiled and patted her on the back. Pyrrha felt like she was getting hit by a truck. Is this how Jaune’s aura got so strong?

“Go to the coliseum,” Arturia told her. “Clear your mind with a good fight. Make your choice when you’re ready.”

Pyrrha smiled and went off, feeling just a little better. She really did hope that woman became her mother-in-law.

When the girl was gone however, Arturia frowned and walked off.

She needed to speak with her old teacher.


	9. Rejoice, Ruby Rose!

Ozpin sat behind his desk, his traditional mug of coffee in his hand. Gods know he needed it after the day he’d had.

First, he had to show Amber to Ms. Nikos and propose to rip one girl's soul out and put it in the other, something that clearly horrified the Mistral Champion, with _very_ good reason. He had given her time to think it over, he wouldn’t force anyone to take up such a burden. Though he worried he was convincing her there was no other right choice.

Then, the business in the singles round had happened. One of his most prized students attacked a boy from Haven and in retaliation was put into a coma. That alone would have been enough to ruin his day, already discounting the hell Taiyang was going to give him when he arrived, but something about the event put Ozpin on edge.

The boy, Kirei Kotomine, had defeated Ms. Xiao-Long in a single blow. With the exception of Ms. Nikos, Yang was the best fighter in Beacon. Leonardo wasn’t the boastful type, but he would have mentioned having someone as powerful as Mr. Kotomine at his school, at least as someone they should eye for recruitment into their circle. Even then, there shouldn’t be any student powerful enough to break aura in a single shot like that.

No, something felt off about the whole affair and that was what led Ozpin to reviewing all the footage he could find of the fight, from every camera, from every angle.

Across from him, Qrow took a swig of his flask. “How many times are you gonna look at that stuff?”

“Until I find something,” Ozpin answered curtly.

Qrow sighed. “Not you too. Look, Oz, I’ve known Yang since she was in diapers. She’s always been a hothead, doesn’t take much to set her off. There wasn’t any mind control or whatever the emo girl with the black bow was spouting.”

Ozpin’s eye twitched when he caught a look at Kirei’s arm right before the punch landed. Were those…no, they couldn’t be. “Qrow, I do not doubt that Ms. Xiao-Long attacked first. I’m more interested in how Mr. Kotomine defeated her so rapidly.”

Qrow shrugged. “So, the kid’s got some mega powerful semblance that he used when he panicked. Big deal. If I saw an angry Yang flying towards me, I’d probably do the same.”

Ozpin suddenly stood up, his eyes wide and glued to his screen. On it was a frozen frame of Kirei Kotomine’s arm just as he struck Yang. Glowing blue lines crisscrossed the entire length.

“That’s not a semblance,” Ozpin declared. “Those are magic circuits.”

Qrow’s eyes widened. “I thought you said those things died out.”

“They did,” Ozpin confirmed. Were it any other time he would be thrilled to have confirmed that one could possess both magic circuits and aura, but right now his trepidation took precedent. How did this boy get them?

The elevator to the office dinged and both Qrow and Ozpin drew their weapons as the door opened.

Arturia walked out and raised an eyebrow at their posturing.

Both men dropped their swords and let out a breath they didn’t know they’d been holding.

“We need to talk,” Arturia demanded.

“Arthur, this is not a good time,” Ozpin said.

“I just watched Pyrrha Nikos have an emotional break down because you asked to take up the power of some maiden,” Arturia revealed. “I don’t really care if now is a good time or not.”

“What?” Qrow groaned. “Does that girl not understand the meaning of ‘secret’?”

Arturia’s eyes glowered with rage. Ozpin knew he had to placate her before she started tearing his lieutenant apart.

“Arthur, my intention was never to cause Ms. Nikos any harm—”

“Well congratulations, you’ve failed.”

“Hey, watch it, lady,” Qrow intervened. “You may be a Servant, but no one talks to Oz like that and gets away with it.”

 _‘You do it every time we speak,’_ Ozpin thought ruefully.

He turned to Arturia. “Arthur, I know what you must be thinking right now but I assure that I would never have asked Ms. Nikos to become the Fall Maiden if there was any other choice.”

“She’s a child, Merlin!” Arturia shouted.

“I know!” Ozpin roared back.

Both Arturia and Qrow took a step back. The headmaster didn’t raise his voice often.

Ozpin slumped back into his chair and sighed. “I know,” he muttered ruefully. “She does not deserve this, to have her innocence ripped from her, to be thrust into a battle that will more than likely take everything from her. But I have been losing this war for an eon, and the enemy is getting close to finally claiming victory. And if she does, then everyone will suffer.”

“What do you mean?” Arturia asked.

“The maidens Pyrrha mentioned to you, I created them millennia ago,” Ozpin explained. “Four young women restored my hope that this world could be saved and in gratitude, I endowed them with immense magical power. Enough to combat a Heroic Spirit even, if a Silver-Eyed warrior could not be found. Unfortunately, since that power came from me, it is bound to my curse, continually reincarnating into a new host. Our enemy has had an assailant attack the most recent Fall Maiden and steal half of her power. She is in critical condition, helpless. And if the assailant strikes again…”

“The enemy would gain a Servant to command. Necessitating the power being put into a more active host as soon as possible.” Arturia finished. She scrunched her forehead in disgust. Ozpin remembered the look from when he had offered to transfigure her into a man. She still did not approve of his actions, but she could not find fault in his reasoning.

It was the traditional state of their relationship.

Qrow frowned and took a drink from his flask. “Oz, do you think Kotomine could be her agent? He’s certainly got the power and I remember Amber sporting a couple of wounds that could have come from those long swords of his.”

Ozpin shook his head. “The Queen would not send a man for this, even if he is a mage. The attacker would need to be female so that she could take Amber’s power.”

Arturia’s eyes narrowed at Ozpin’s words. “A mage?”

Ozpin looked at her carefully. “Yes. A recent revelation. It seems that Mr. Kotomine is the first human to possess magic circuits since this world was Earth.”

“Kotomine,” Arturia muttered. “Kirei Kotomine. Why does that name sound so…”?

Suddenly, her eyes widened in abject horror. “I only saw him once.”

Ozpin rose again. “What are you talking about?”

“Kirei Kotomine isn’t just a mage. He was a master of the Fourth Holy Grail War.”

Qrow lowered his flask from his lips and turned to Ozpin. “I thought you said the Fourth War was ancient history?”

“It is,” he confirmed, his mind working overtime to figure out what this meant. How could Kotomine look so young if what Arturia said was true? The only way would be… No.

“Arturia, who was Kirei’s servant in the Fourth War?”

Arturia thought for a moment, working through the details. There were only two servants at the end of the war. With Kiritsugu being her master, the only option was for Kirei to have commanded…

“Gilgamesh,” Arturia stated, having deduced his identity in the decades since they’d last seen each other. “The King of Heroes.”

A loud _clang_ sounded throughout the room. Ozpin turned to Qrow, who had dropped his flask to the floor. The headmaster watched his trusted friend, who had spied on the horrors of their enemy and regularly killed them, shake with terror.

“Goldie’s here?” Qrow whimpered, his eyes wide.

Ozpin rushed over to the huntsman and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Qrow. Even if he does come to Beacon, the bounded field renders him powerless.”

“Bounded field?” Arturia asked. “What bounded field? I haven’t been inhibited at all since I arrived here.”

“After Qrow and his teammates had an unfortunate encounter with Gilgamesh nineteen years ago, I knew it was only a matter of time before he turned his sights on Beacon for one reason or another,” Ozpin informed her. “So, I constructed a specialized bounded field around the school. It prevents spatial distortions in reality, rendering the Gate of Babylon unable to materialize. Ironically, I based it off a design our enemy has over her own territory.”

“That explains why Kotomine is here,” Arturia remarked. “The King of Heroes has sent him to take down the field.”

“Then we have little to worry about,” Ozpin assured her. “I used myself as the keystone for the field. Mr. Kotomine is skilled, but I don’t think he will be able to defeat me as long as I am careful.”

“This guy tipped his hand when he hit Yang,” Qrow observed, his shaking lessened. “If he wanted to keep his magic a secret then all he would have had to do was fight her like normal.”

The huntsman turned to Arturia. “Don’t suppose he’s that stupid though, is he?”

The blonde knight shook her head. “My own master was confident he could defeat every other participant of the Fourth War without difficulty. Only Kotomine gave him pause.”

“Great,” Qrow sneered. “So goldie’s minion isn’t planning on fighting Oz himself or else he wouldn’t have taken the risk we’d see this.”

“Which begs the question,” Ozpin put forward. “How does he plan to kill me?”

At that moment, Ozpin’s desk screen lit up with two wheels displaying the faces of the students remaining in the Vytal Festival. Bartholomew’s voice blared through the system’s speakers “Alright, it’s now time to begin the randomization process for the next match!”

The faces on the screen began to spin. Eventually, they stopped, displaying a cute girl with orange hair and a pink bow.

“It looks like our first contestant is…” shouted Peter. “Penny Polendina from Atlas!”

The other wheel stopped. It was a face familiar to all in the room.

“And her opponent will be Pyrrha Nikos from Beacon!”

 

* * *

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Ruby cautiously walked down the maintenance hallway of Amity Coliseum.

She was pretty sure she wasn’t allowed back here, but it was where Kirei’s message had told her to go. He said that he wanted to meet up, explain what happened with Yang, and what was going on. Ruby wasn’t sure what he meant by that last bit, but she needed answers. She needed to know why he’d nearly killed her sister.

She needed to know he was still her friend.

Still, Taiyang Xiao-Long didn’t raise no fool. Crescent Rose was strapped to her waist and ready to go if things got dicey. Or punchy. Or shooty, if Kirei pulled out the Contender.

Ruby neared the end of the hall, and out of a passage walked a familiar smirking face. Just not the one she was expecting.

This one had silver hair.

“Mercury?” Ruby queried. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Professor Port’s voice rang throughout the stadium. “And now Penny Polendina of Atlas shall face Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!”

Ruby immediately realized why that was very, very bad.

Mercury chuckled. “Ooo, polarity versus metal. That could get bad.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. How did he know? Pyrrha didn’t exactly advertise her semblance and there was no way he could know about Penny being a robot. She wasn’t even supposed to know that!

But that didn’t matter. She could tell by his tone of voice that her friends were in danger. She reached for her scroll to call Weiss, but a burst of wind dust blasted the device out of her hands.

Mercury’s foot smoked as the boy smirked. “How about we just keep this between us?”

Ruby glared at her foe and drew Crescent Rose from her back. The scythe form appeared just as another voice rang out in the hall. Mercury’s eyes widened at the speaker behind Ruby.

“I’m afraid I must intercede on that front,” called Kirei.

Ruby turned to see her friend walking towards them, calm as a kitten. His golden cross necklace gleamed as he advanced.

“What are you doing here?” Mercury shouted. “Do you not understand the meaning of ‘lay low’?”

“I do,” Kirei confirmed. “But as I was the one to arrange this meeting with Ms. Rose, I thought it would be impolite for me to abstain from the event. Now then, I’m sure Cinder as some other job she needs you for. Why don’t you attend to that?”

Mercury spat at Kirei, but he did leave.

Now it was only Ruby and the man she was getting a distinct feeling wasn’t actually her friend. She kept her scythe unfurled as she turned to face him.

She took a deep breath. She had to give him a chance. That was the right thing to do.

“What’s going on Kirei? Why did you put Yang in a coma? Why did Mercury attack me?”

Kirei just kept smiling. Ruby was starting to understand how Yang found it infuriating.

“Mercury shot at you because he can’t have you warning anyone about his tampering with the broadcast feed,” Kirei nonchalantly revealed. “As for what’s going on, Cinder is going to manipulate the tournament in order to discredit the Huntsman Academies and spark a Grimm invasion of Vale.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. Of all the times to suddenly be blunt. “H-How? Why?”

Kirei shrugged. “To serve her master. To cause a suitable distraction. Or perhaps she simply wants to watch people suffer. I can certainly understand that longing, though her methods are far too crude for my tastes. Direct physical pain and instinctual terror are satisfying but simply lacking when compared to the finer joys of life.”

Ruby’s mind connected the dots of what those finer joys were. Her silver eyes narrowed. “You put Yang in a coma…because you wanted to see her in pain?”

Kirei blinked, utterly confused, as if she had missed something incredibly obvious. “No. I put Ms. Xiao-Long in a coma because I wanted to see _you_ in pain.”

Ruby backed away in shock. Kirei continued, “Physical pain is common and unkempt. Emotional agony however, especially from one normally so exuberant, it is a delicacy of the highest grade. It makes me thankful that I didn’t kill her as I had planned. I can enjoy hers as well if she ever wakes.”

Ruby roared and burst forward with her semblance, Crescent Rose slashing in to cut off Kirei’s head.

The boy flashed out of Ruby’s sight and planted a powerful kick to her gut, sending the red reaper flailing down the hall. Her weapon flew from her hands and she skidded into the wall.

She stumbled her way back to her feet. Her aura had cushioned the blow, but Kirei’s strike had still hit like a truck.

Ruby lunged at her foe, her tiny fists raining down a flurry of punches. Unfortunately, hand to hand was not her specialty and the attacks were weak and sloppy.

Kirei blocked or dodged them all with casual ease, not even bothering to strike back. And why would he? He was enjoying the girl’s desperation.

Ruby quickly realized she wasn’t getting anywhere. She spied something behind Kirei and smiled.

The red hooded girl activated her semblance and blasted past her opponent. She slid across the floor and snatched up Crescent Rose, swing the scythe around as she stood and embedding the blade into the floor. The gun barrel of the weapon was aimed at Kirei.

She cocked the rifle and fired.

Six Black Keys slid out from Kirei’s sleeves, three in each hand. In a flash of rapid slashes, he neutralized the incoming barrage.

Ruby kept firing, slipping a hand into a pouch on her belt. She pulled out a red clip with a black fire painted on it. With a smirk of her own, she loaded it into her rifle and fired again.

Kirei blocked these shots as well, but when the Keys struck the bullets, the entire thing went up in a huge explosion.

_‘Fire dust. Accept no substitutes.’_

Ruby collapsed Crescent Rose back into its carrier form and ran towards the door to the stands. She had to warn everyone!

“What did Ms. Goodwitch tell you about relying on your weapon?”

Ruby didn’t even have time to turn around before Kirei kicked her through the door and she smashed into the side of the concrete bleachers. She fell to her knees and her aura flickered and died.

Kirei stalked towards her, barely even singed from the explosion. Ruby threw another lame punch, but the larger boy caught her fist and twisted it behind her back. His other hand wrapped around her throat to keep her from screaming.

“Disappointing. Very disappointing.” Kirei lectured her. “Your mother could barely stand when I fought her, and she put up a much better fight.”

Ruby’s eyes went wide. He knew her… When did he fight mom? How could he have fought her? He was barely older than she was?

From where the two were, they had a clear view of the coliseum arena. Pyrrha and Penny battled furiously, their blades dancing around each other.

Kirei twisted Ruby’s neck so that she had to look at the fight. “She was glorious when we met. I wish I had had more time with her before she died. When I met you, I could barely contain myself. You are so very much like her, you know.”

Tears began to well up in Ruby’s eyes. _‘Help. Someone…’_

Down in the arena, Penny drew all eight of her wired blades behind her. Strangely, Pyrrha started stepping away from her opponent, shaking her head as if in a daze.

“You even have her dream,” Kirei remarked. “You want to be a hero. I never saw her fulfill that wish, so I thought I would assist you. After all…”

Penny thrust her swords forward. Pyrrha threw her hands in front of her face and unleashed the full power of her magnetic semblance.

“Every hero needs a tragedy.”

Pyrrha’s blast struck Penny’s blades and sent them hurtling back at the girl from Atlas. The wires wrapped around each of her limbs, over and over, becoming tighter and tighter.

Eventually, it was too much, and Penny’s limbs were torn off her in a shower of sparks and gears.

The remains of the robot girl fell to the floor, with no more life than a pile of scraps.

The entire stadium gasped in horror. The crowd started buzzing with frenzied confusion. Pyrrha dropped to her knees.

Suddenly, the coliseum’s screens flashed with static. In a few moments, the image of a black chess piece appeared on a blood red background.

The sultry voice of Cinder Fall, now hard with fury, rang throughout the stadium. “ _This is not a tragedy. This is not an accident…_ ”

Ruby barely even heard her. Her mind couldn’t stop focusing on Penny.

Penny. Her friend. The robot girl with so much life.

The girl who was dead.

Tears flooded down her face.

Kirei smirked.

“Rejoice, Ruby Rose. Your wish has been granted.”

He thrust her head into the pavement, and then Ruby saw only black.


	10. The Fall Begins

A noodle bar on the Vytal Festival grounds hummed with excitement. The place was a bar after all, with all the food, music, and drink that people could want. And with the next round of the tournament singles round on that night, the building was packed with people who wanted to see which of the next generation of huntsmen would reign supreme.

No one cared about the Beacon girl who barely made it out of the last fight alive.

No one except for a lithe girl with a black bow sitting in a shadowy booth in the corner, a large bowl of fish and a glass of milk in front of her.

Blake Belladonna was confused and angry. The last time that had been her emotional state, she’d bailed on her team and run off to fight terrorists.

Now, she shoved a piece of tuna in her mouth and chewed furiously.

Weiss came up next to her. The heiress raised an eyebrow at the dish. “If that’s not a cry for help, I don’t know what is.”

Blake swallowed and looked up at her teammate, clearly unamused.

Nevertheless, Weiss had promised her partner she’d help. “Mind if I join you?”

Blake gestured to the seat across from her. Weiss sat down. The heiress observed her friend with a sad smile.

Huh. If people knew that Weiss Schnee called a faunus one of her closest friends, they’d probably claim it was a sign of the apocalypse. Even more, if they knew said faunus was a former member of the White Fang. Especially one trained by _him_.

Weiss had never left Atlas before coming to Beacon, but even she knew of Adam Taurus. Of all the new leaders that had emerged within the organization after Sienna Khan took over, the Blood-Soaked Bull was perhaps the most infamous. When news reports started fretting about anti-faunus restaurants going up in flames, he was the one waving their new crimson colored flag for the cameras. He’d been young then, no one thought he was anything but a recruiting tool, ‘look at the strapping young bull faunus standing up for his people’ and all that. She had caught her father watching footage of him once, mumbling that this animal wouldn’t be a problem.

But then he got older. The strapping boy waving a flag disappeared. He started leading raids on dust mines, blowing them to smithereens. He kidnapped SDC board members and sent her father videos of their peril, ordering him to make compensations to faunus workers if he wanted them returned safely.

Her father never gave in. And the executives never came back. After a while, the ransom demands stopped coming at all.

But people didn’t stop disappearing.

Briefly, she wondered if Blake had been involved in any of those kidnappings. Then she dismissed that thought as absurd. Blake cut ties with the White Fang over their increasingly violent methods. If she had known about those kinds of executions, she never would have stayed.

No, Blake needed her help, and she was going to get it whether she liked it or not.

“Yang’s going to be fine you know. Both physically and morally.” Weiss assured her.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Morally?”

“What?” the Schnee squealed indignantly. “My grammar was flawless! That is the appropriate description of what you’re worried about!”

Blake giggled at Weiss’ brattishness. The heiress smiled. Exactly as planned.

“I know in my heart that Yang’s not Adam,” Blake declared, a bit happier. “This was all just, a bit too familiar for my tastes. I overreacted.”

“Your partner is in a coma, Blake. There’s no such thing as overreaction.”

“I guess.” She took a drink from her milk. “I just… Remember back at Mountain Glenn? What I told you guys around the fire?”

“You were worried that you’d fail at being a huntress,” Weiss recalled. “That you’d run away when things got hard.”

Blake nodded. “When what happened with Yang… happened, I didn’t know what to think. Everything lined up so clearly in my head with Adam but, she was hurt. She was helpless. I wanted to run before everything came crumbling down, but I couldn’t just leave her. So, I got angry. At Yang, at Kirei…”

“At yourself?”

Blake’s head fell into her hands. “I was so ashamed that I had thought Yang was like Adam even for a second that I made Kirei into some diabolical mastermind.”

“Yeah,” Weiss responded. “I can’t see him with as a sinister puppet master. Maybe a corporate enforcer, but definitely not a mastermind. He likes getting physical too much.”

Both girls laughed, the solemn air finally broken. Blake looked at Weiss gratefully.

The heiress smiled at her teammate. “Yang is going to be fine, Blake. It was an accident. We just have to wait until the General finds Kirei, gets the full story, and then we can put this all behind us.”

Suddenly, the entire bar gasped. Weiss and Blake looked around as everyone stared at the televisions. The talking had stopped.

The two girls saw what was on the screens. Ruby’s friend Penny, torn to pieces. Pieces of metal?

A moment later, the screen flashed red and the image of a black queen chess piece appeared.

As Cinder’s voice echoed throughout the fairgrounds, both members of Team RWBY realized that everything was far from over.

It had yet to even begin.

 

* * *

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Kirei dragged Ruby’s unconscious form into the stands. Cinder was prattling on about huntsmen being untrustworthy but that didn’t really concern him. The crowd’s attention to that speech was useful though, as he suspected lugging around the body of a fifteen-year-old girl would probably earn him unwanted attention.

He unceremoniously plopped Ruby in an empty seat and then slammed his palm into her gut. A moment later, it began to glow as his spiritual healing magic took effect. The girl’s aura flashed back to life a moment later.

Kirei smiled and walked out of the main arena. With her aura restored, Ruby should wake soon enough. After all, she couldn’t be a hero if she slept through the crisis.

He had made his way to the coliseum landing pad by the time the sirens started blaring. A massive flock of aerial Grimm flew past him through the skies. He noted one particularly large Nevermore flying up to attack the stadium’s upper shield.

None of that mattered however. Kirei made his way over to the Atlas shuttles and, after disposing of the original pilots, began the flight to Beacon.

Along the way, he received an escort of Griffons. The dark creatures flew about his ship in a peaceful haze.

It was strange really. According to the studies of Remnant, as well as his own experiences, Kirei knew that the Grimm would kill any human or faunus without restraint. How Cinder commanded them to leave her team alone he did not know. But for some reason, the beasts that resembled mythological creatures from his own world largely left Kirei in peace.

They would defend themselves if he attacked first, true, but they never sought him out for death like they did all others. Perhaps, they found his joy to be similar to their own. Or maybe they saw no need to kill him again since he had already tasted death once.

The memory of the conclusion of his duel with Kiritsugu caused his heart to both ache and long. The mage killer was truly a man to be missed. He had made Kirei’s life so much brighter with the conflict they shared.

Though perhaps the coming war would reveal a new adversary of his caliber.

Kirei could only pray.

At last, he arrived at the Beacon docks. Various White Fang bullheads were moored at the site, a multitude of Grimm and grunts swarming into the school. It truly spoke well of Adam’s capabilities that he could successfully corral the two together.

Kirei landed his shuttle and made his way to the other craft. He spotted his target’s red hair near the center of the site.

A grunt saw him approaching and raised his rifle. “Die human!”

Kirei raised an eyebrow at the fool and causally summoned a Black Key to deflect the barrage. A moment later, he could see the grunt’s jaw drop in shock.

Fortunately for him, the noise attracted Kirei’s contact and Adam got between the two before the grunt could pay for his error. “Enough, enough. This one’s with us. You want to shoot something, go search for some Atlesian scum.”

That apparently motivated the grunt, as he saluted his leader before rushing off into the school.

Adam turned to Kirei. “Apologies. To the men, one human face looks just like another.”

Kirei slid his Black Key back into his sleeve. “No apologies necessary.”

The priest pulled out his scroll. Attaching a pre-made file, he sent out a message. A few moments later, Adam’s scroll buzzed.

The bull faunus took out his device and gave the message a cursory glance. “This contains everything I’ll need.”

Kirei nodded. “Even more. I included a few psalms that will allow you to grow stronger after you kill the others. As well as Ms. Belladonna’s most likely location for tonight and advice on how to use the situation you will probably find to your advantage.”

Adam glared from behind the mask. “I don’t need you to hold my hand, human.”

Kirei smirked at the boy’s indigence. “Considering she left you, I find that hard to believe.”

Adam’s hands tightened into fists, but they knew better than to reach for his sword.

“Have no fear, Adam Taurus,” Kirei comforted. “Soon, you shall have a chance to get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

He turned away from Adam and began trekking towards the tower.

“Priest!” Adam shouted. Kirei stopped but did not face him. “After it begins, we are enemies. If I see you again, I will kill you.”

Kirei smirked. “I would expect nothing less. Do try to make it entertaining, won’t you?”

He didn’t need to turn around to know the boy was seething. He walked forward into the dark confines of the school.

There was work to be done.

 

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Arturia steadied herself.

The black queen had just disappeared from Ozpin’s screen when the first sirens went off. The Grimm were invading.

Her old mentor pulled out his scroll and called someone. A moment after they picked up, Ozpin hissed, “You brought your army to my kingdom, James. Use it!”

He hung up and snatched his cane. Glynda ran into the room. “Ozpin, did you see—”

“I know! You, Qrow, and Arthur get to the city.”

“What?” Arturia exclaimed.

“Oz, don’t you think—”

“Now!” Ozpin roared.

Qrow and Glynda nodded and ran down the elevator.

Arturia scowled at the headmaster. “Merlin, I’m going to find my son.”

“Jaune can handle himself, and if not, his team will protect him.” Ozpin insisted. “The people of Vale cannot do the same.”

“I am not their mother,” Arturia declared. “And I am not—"

“You are not a hero anymore. Yes, I understand that.” Ozpin turned on more monitors around his desk. Each one showed innocent people fleeing the Grimm in terror.

Arturia looked upon each in horror.

Ozpin did not smile, but he knew she understood his meaning. “They will die without someone to protect them. You say you are no longer a hero, fine. Are you still a knight?”

He observed her carefully. To anyone else, she would seem as unreadable as an iron wall. To him, she was an open book. He saw her heart war with her mind. One was sick fighting for others, and wanted only to protect her child.

The other was still that of a king, and knew she could not let others cry.

Ozpin knew which one would prevail.

Arturia glared at her old teacher. “If my son dies, we are through.”

Ozpin nodded.

Arturia strode to the elevator and zipped down the tower.

Ozpin sighed in relief and then looked to his monitors to see where his huntsmen were needed most. It fell to him to direct the defenders to where the innocent needed them. Unfortunately, with such a huge invasion, that seemed to be everywhere.

A mystical quake suddenly rippled through the headmaster’s body. His eyes went wide. The bounded field had sent him a signal. Someone with power to rival a Heroic Spirit had entered the city.

Gilgamesh would never do so without the Gate of Babylon. Salem would give him much more warning than just the field. Which only left…

_Hazel._

Ozpin snatched up his cane and headed to the elevator. Ms. Nikos needed to make her choice now.

 

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****

Ruby awakened to screaming.

She was slumping in one of the stands, her head pounding like a war drum. Crescent Rose was by her side. Everything around her was in chaos.

All around her, people were stampeding to get out of the stands. They were shouting in fear and it was clear the panic was out of control. To make matters worse, a massive Nevermore was pounding on the arena’s protective barrier. At the rate it was going, the shield would break soon enough.

Ruby couldn’t bring herself to care. She didn’t know how her aura was back, but she still felt exhausted from her duel with Kirei. Physically and Emotionally.

She was an idiot! How many times did Yang warn her that Kirei was trouble and how many times did she brush her off? She was so sure he was like her, socially awkward but with a pair of good old normal knees. He just kept smiling so everybody else would too.

 Now Yang was in a coma, Penny was dead…

And Kirei was still smiling!

Ruby’s hands clenched into fists. He had hurt her friends, her family, he had fought her mom for gods’ sake!

But, what if he was right.

She wanted to be like the heroes in the books, she always had. She wanted to go out and fight the monsters and save everybody. But the monsters had to be there for people to need a hero. They had to hurt them enough for them to call for help.

So, did that make her selfish? To wish that people were in danger just so she could save them from it?

Her eyes found Penny’s remains on the arena floor and fresh tears flooded her sight.

Did she wish for her friend’s death?

“Pyrrha, you’ve got to move!”

Ruby’s gaze strayed from Penny to the other side of the stage, where Pyrrha was. The champion was kneeling on the ground, her eyes glassed over. Ruby doubted she even heard Jaune shout.

The Nevermore above them unleashed one final strike and the coliseum shield shattered. The Grimm soared into the arena and swooped down towards Pyrrha.

Pyrrha didn’t move. Jaune jumped down from the stands and rushed towards her. He would never make it in time.

Ruby could.

Ruby _would_.

In a flash of rose petals, she flew across the stadium and warded the Nevermore off with a strike of Crescent Rose.

She landed on the stage and glared at the beast. Her tear-blurred vision gained a silver tinge.

“Ruby?” she heard Pyrrha whisper from behind her. Scared.

Pyrrha was never scared. She was brave. She was strong. She helped all of them when they needed it the most.

And now she needed help. Now everyone needed help.

She would help them. No one else was going to die.

She’d save everyone.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” she roared. She leapt toward the Grimm and slashed Crescent Rose at its head.

She didn’t understand what happened next, but a flash of silver light filled her vision for a moment. When she could see again, she could only blink in shock.

The entire section of the stands in front of her had been reduced to rubble. The giant Nevermore laid face down in the ruins, seemingly frozen white. A few seconds later, the mighty beast disintegrated into dust.

Ruby turned back to her friends. Jaune had reached Pyrrha and was helping her to her feet. Both looked at her in awe.

“Ruby,” Jaune stammered. “How did you do that?”

Ruby glanced back at the destruction she’d caused. “I… I don’t know. But that’s not important right now.”

Pyrrha cautiously took a step towards her. “Ruby, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ruby assured her immediately.

“She’s right,” Jaune agreed. “The person on the microphone. They’re the one responsible for all this.”

“Cinder,” Ruby informed them. Both their eyes widened in shock. “Cinder, Emerald, Mercury, and Kirei. They did this. I don’t know why but I think they’ve been planning it since before they got here.”

Jaune’s hands closed into fists. “Why? What do they get out of this?”

Ruby shrugged. She didn’t know. Kirei had mentioned Cinder wanting to discredit the Huntsmen Academies and some kind of master, but after everything that had happened, she didn’t trust a word he said.

Suddenly, dozens of rocket-propelled lockers landed on the stage. Ren, Nora, Team CFVY, Team SSSN, and everyone Ruby could remember from the tournament flooded into the arena and retrieved their weapons.

The mega team strode up to her and Jaune, cocking their guns and swinging their swords.

It looked really awesome.

Ruby grinned and they all ran down to the coliseum docks. They caught the tail end of General Ironwood butchering a Beowolf Alpha when they arrived. The students went up to the General as he bordered a shuttle.

“What’s going on?” Ruby asked.

The Atlas man turned to her and her friends. “Grimm are crawling all over the city. The White Fang has invaded Beacon. And to make matters worse some vagabond has seized control of one of my ships.”

The General fired off a shot at something behind the students. A Beowolf that had been stalking towards them dropped dead.

He continued as if nothing had happened. “Until we regain command, the skies are out of our control. So I’m going to take it back.”

“What should we do?” Jaune inquired.

Ironwood’s posture straightened. His hands folded behind his back. Ruby thought she finally understood why this man was General.

“You have two choices,” he told them. “Protect your kingdom and your school. Or save yourselves.”

The students glanced amongst themselves.

Ironwood’s expression softened. His eyes grew kinder. Ruby could even see some of Professor Ozpin in them. “No one will fault you if you leave,” he assured them.

He turned and set off in his shuttle.

All the gathered teenagers just stood there for a moment. Then, a monkey faunus broke the silence.

“I mean, come on,” Sun remarked. The general didn’t know huntsmen in training as well as he thought he did if he thought they would run.

“We can take a ship to Beacon. This way!” Jaune directed, leading their allies to another shuttle.

Ruby stayed behind a moment longer, her eyes locked on Ironwood’s ship. When it approached the Atlesian cruiser that was firing on the others, it suddenly caught fired and plummeted towards the city below.

Her eyes widened in shock, and then hardened with resolve. The red hooded girl raced back into the arena and programmed coordinates into one of her friend’s lockers. She latched onto it with Crescent Rose and blasted into the sky.

As the wind rushed through her hair, Ruby thought of what she was up against. On the cruiser, she had little doubt that the vagabond General Ironwood was referring to was Roman Torchwick. Only he could be so evil as to set a warship on innocents when there was a Grimm invasion going on. After that, she’d have to deal with Kirei, Cinder, and the others. And she would.

She’d save everyone.

 

* * *

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****

Blake and Weiss dashed into the Beacon courtyard with weapons drawn.

In front of them, a pack of Ursa were being finished off by a squadron of Atlesian Knights. When the last beast went down, the machines turned to face the huntresses, probably seeking new orders.

That thought still amazed Blake. During her years with the White Fang, she’d come to associate the robots as the face of the enemy. A mindless hoard no different than the Grimm, except the monsters of darkness were not selective in their slaughter. Now, she was fighting side by side with them against real darkness. It was a good feeling.

The robots’ visors glowed red.

_Annnd_ , the feeling was gone.

“Down!” Blake shouted, grabbing Weiss and diving to the ground. A moment later, the knights opened fire on where they’d been standing.

Blake looked to her teammate. The heiress nodded at her and waved her hand at the robots. A line of glyphs flared to life between the huntresses and the droids.

Blake drew Gambol Shroud and dashed across the courtyard, the glyphs accelerating her to blinding speed, maybe even as fast as Mrs. Arc. Even if she wasn’t, the knights were scrap metal seconds later.

Weiss stood up and the two observed their school.

All around, buildings burned. Students who had stayed in from the tournament fought for their lives against Grimm, White Fang, and the newly traitorous Atlesian robots.

It was hell on Remnant.

Weiss’ scroll went off. The heiress looked at the message. She smiled. “It’s Jaune. He says he’s on his way with reinforcements.”

“Good,” Blake commented. “We’re going to need them.”

“We should meet up with them at the docks,” Weiss suggested. “We can’t fight everything on our own, but if we join up with the others, we can come back here and fight in force.”

“You go,” Blake told her. Weiss’ raised an eyebrow in confusion. “If the Atlesian Knights are against us, then there’s no one guarding the infirmary.”

“Yang,” Weiss muttered in realization. The Schnee’s eyes hardened. “We’ll go together.”

“No, someone has to warn Jaune and the others about the robots’ betrayal.”

“I think they’ll figure it out.”

“Before or after someone gets shot because they hadn’t?” Blake challenged.

Weiss opened her mouth to argue but closed it just as quickly. “Good hunting.”

Blake nodded and took off for the infirmary. She wouldn’t lose another partner.

She was so focused, she didn’t hear the gargantuan roar that split the air.

 

* * *

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****

Cinder smiled as the Wyvern of Mountain Glenn took to the skies.

Emerald nearly dropped the scroll she had been using to record the carnage below. “What? What is that?”

“One of my mistresses more potent weapons,” Cinder informed her. “Buried under Mountain Glenn by a desperate Spring Maiden back when the settlement fell. The foolish girl gave her life and in the end, her efforts were for nothing.”

She sneered. “It really is quite pathetic.”

Emerald shuffled back from Cinder. She cared for her mistress, she really did. The woman had taken her under her wing and raised her up from nothing. She had shown her affection for the first time in her life.

But when Cinder was going on about her own mistress? Emerald would be the first to admit that she was terrifying.

Cinder tore herself away from the flying behemoth and stared off at the foot of Beacon Tower. Her grin widened. “There you are, old man.”

Emerald turned to where she was looking and saw Professor Ozpin racing out of the tower. They followed him until he met up with a large group of students who had arrived to help fight off the invaders. The headmaster grabbed Pyrrha Nikos and raced back to where he’d come from, Jaune Arc following behind them.

Cinder smirked. “Interesting.”

She turned to Emerald. “Film everything you can. Focus on the Atlesian Knights. Then, meet up with Mercury at the rendezvous point.”

Emerald nodded, already dreading Mercury’s aggravating snark. After finishing his mission, there was no way he wouldn’t be in a good mood. Which meant she would soon be in a bad one.

Cinder began walking away when something occurred to Emerald.

“Mercury said Kirei isn’t laying low. What do you want me to do if he shows up at the rendezvous point?”

Emerald really hoped it wasn’t fight. She’d seen what the guy could do and though she was confident in her illusions, she didn’t want to risk it with him.

Cinder stopped for a moment, seemingly considering the question.

“Keep him with you,” she eventually declared. “When I return, I’ll show him what it truly means to disobey a maiden.”

 

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****

The walk to Vale had not been tiresome. It was a beautiful day.

He had always enjoyed a beautiful day.

There’d been a farmer on the side of the road. His truck was broken down, a tire burst from some misfortune. A little girl had jumped out of the cabin and made a show about helping the farmer lift the vehicle.

The farmer had patted her on the head and resumed his struggle.

He could sympathize with that.

But he could not stop to help. His mistress had commanded him not to stop until he reached Vale.

He would not betray his mistress. He had promised that.

Farther down the road, he encountered a pack of Beowolves. They were no threat to him. They would not have been even if they were enemies.

The alpha sniffed the direction he’d come from. He probably scented the farmer’s despair.

He waved off the Grimm. The farmer was facing his own obstacles admirably. There was no reason to give him more.

No one needed to die today.

It was nightfall when he reached the walls of Vale. Hordes of Grimm were baring down on the city. Some joined with their airborne brethren to surmount the defenses. Others clawed madly at the cold steel.

He sighed.

A line of Goliaths lumbered behind him. They were old. They were strong. They would probably breach the walls given time.

But the Queen had ordered him to check up on Cinder. So, he would check up on the foolish girl.

A wall was hardly the greatest obstacle he had faced.

He willed his semblance to life. All around him, in a short radius, the ground crumbled inward. Always towards him, but never touching.

A reckless Griffon got too close, for some reason forsaking the flight it was capable of. The poor beast slammed into the ground and then was compressed into the nothingness.

He sighed. That was unnecessary.

He strode onward. When he reached the walls, the structure bent towards him. Whatever supports within it failed as the lower half was drawn to him and caught in his relentless orbit.

In time, the wall fell down. The towering mess of steel and concrete crumpled and compressed into a thousand-ton chunk of scrap. There wasn’t even rumble left behind.

Hazel Rainart walked into Vale.

A column of Goliaths was not far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was planned out pre-Volume 5, so Hazel is very different from his canon self, though I do attempt to bridge the two as much as possible.


	11. Return of Kings

Mercury Black smirked as Vale burned.

He had just arrived back at Beacon from Amity Coliseum and even from the school’s extreme altitude, he could see the flames billowing up from the city. The Grimm were running wild in the streets, slaughtering people left and right. The local huntsmen were doing what they could, but they were badly outnumbered and caught off guard.

Add to that the dragon looking Grimm that popped out of Mountain Glenn, he thought Cinder called it a Wyvern, and Mercury was quite satisfied that he chose the right side.

He jumped off his stolen shuttle and sauntered on through the halls of Beacon whistling a jaunty tune.

An Atlas student fell down in front of him. His uniform was torn, and his face was bloody.

An Ursa charged down at the kid.

He looked up to Mercury, his eyes wide with terror. “Help me!”

Mercury shrugged and casually kicked the Ursa in the head, firing a wind dust round as he went. The black beast fell to the ground and disintegrated into nothingness.

The Atlas Student flashed a relieved smile. “Thank you. I thought I was a goner—”

Mercury whirled around and fired another round into the student’s chest. The boy crumpled to the floor.

Mercury smirked. “You are.”

The silver-haired assassin went on his merry way.

When he had finally gotten up the nerve to go after his piss ass dad, he had not expected things would turn out like this. Granted, having a pair of terrorist ladies drop by your house after you killed your father wasn’t a scenario most people thought of. Still, joining up with Cinder had gone pretty well. Sure, there were some hiccups. But he got new legs, some decent grub, and the chance to annoy Emerald all he wanted.

Plus, he got to do what he loved. And as much as he hated his dad, he had to admit their tastes were similar. Bar the drinking, that was.

Fighting and killing, though? There was nothing better.

Mercury made his way to the infirmary. With its Atlesian Knights going haywire, the place was practically deserted. Almost.

He found the door he was looking for and opened it up. He smiled.

On the bed laid one comatose Yang Xiao-Long. Miscellaneous tubes and wires ran all over the blonde brawler, heart monitors and aura meters showing her to be in pretty decent health all things considered. Maybe Kotomine had planned it so perfectly that the bimbo would be out of action but still make it out alive.

Too bad he didn’t count on the Atlesian evac team getting slaughtered by their own robots. Or just how petty Cinder could be.

Kirei put a wrench in her plans, whether unintentionally or not. So, if he wanted Xiao-Long alive for something, Cinder would make sure she was dead.

Mercury didn’t really mind. Xiao-Long ticked him off. She reminded him way too much of his dad, all boasting and bragging like she was the gods’ gift to Remnant. He didn’t know if he could have gone along with Cinder’s original plan to frame her for injuring him or if he would have given her a well-deserved ass-kicking like Kirei. He would have enjoyed both really.

Yeah, he had a bit of an ego too. But at least he walked the walk more than he talked trash. People like his dad and Xiao-Long? He didn’t think burying them in the mud was ever going to get old.

Mercury glanced at her full aura meter. Her restored power would heal her wounds much faster than her body would alone, but it wouldn’t provide a shield unless she was conscious to activate it.

He smirked. He should make sure she was unconscious. It was only professional.

Mercury walked to the side of the girl’s bed and kicked her into the wall in front of the door. Yang’s limp form bounced off the wall and fell to the ground with a thump.

The girl did not stir.

“Wakey, wakey Xiao-Long. It’s time to die,” Mercury taunted in a sing-songy voice. He stalked over to her fallen form. “Come on. Nothing?” He stamped on her right hand, his metal leg crushing her fragile bones.

Mercury didn’t think this could get any better. He smirked. “Man, this is just disappointing. I mean, I always hoped I’d be the one to kill you, but I figured you’d at least go out with a _Yang_.”

Okay. That made it better.

He raised his foot to bring down on her head.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

He brought his boot around to deflect a strike from a black sword, only to find himself face to face with a very angry kitty cat.

Oh, so much better.

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Blake didn’t know why Mercury was in the infirmary. She didn’t know why he had come to Yang’s room.

But she did know he was trying to kill her partner.

She wouldn’t let him do that.

Blake screamed as she leapt through the air, Mercury distracted enough by her presence to forget about Yang. He met her first strike with Gambol Shroud with his foot, before jumping out of the way of her follow-up slash with her sheath.

Mercury landed on Yang’s bed and flashed her a cocky smirk. He dove behind the bed and flipped it on its side before sending it barreling towards her.

Blake slashed the bed in two, but as soon as the halves parted, Mercury was revealed. He stood on his hands with his feet in the air, his soles firing half a dozen wind dust rounds.

Normally, Blake would dodge the barrage. Like Ruby, her specialty was speed, outmaneuvering the enemy while overwhelming them with her own attacks. Unfortunately, her environment was against her.

In the confined hospital room, her agility was extremely limited, while Mercury’s more powerful strikes had even less ground to cover. She had her shadow clones, but using them would leave Yang open to the volley, with nothing physical to block the bullet. The same problem kept her from fleeing the room to gain more ground to maneuver in.

Blake might have a chance against Mercury, but she’d have to abandon Yang to get it.

She wouldn’t do that.

Which was why it was really good that she still had some stone dust left.

Pushing her semblance, Blake created a barrier of three rock clones between herself and Mercury. They exploded into fine powder when the barrage hit.

Using the smokescreen, Blake grabbed Yang and lugged her partner out of the room. The lounge outside was filled with pale white nurse’s stations and tile floor, but it was better than her previous situation. With any luck, she could get far enough away while Mercury was still distracted to lose him in the maze of hallways.

The wall of Yang’s hospital room suddenly exploded, and Blake was thrown to the floor, her partner’s dead weight not making anything easier.

Mercury leapt out from the smoke. “Where you going? We’re not done.”

Blake converted Gambol Shroud to gun form and fired a strafing barrage.

Mercury dodged it with casual ease before doing a flip in the air as he shot her weapon out of her hands.

Blake gritted her teeth and brought her sheath to bare, standing up to shield her partner.

The silver-haired devil grinned sadistically and lunged at her. Blake instinctively created a shadow clone to take the hit, but right after he plowed through it, Mercury’s other foot came up to kick her in her stomach.

_‘Impossible! There’s no way he’s that fast!’_

He was, and Blake soon found herself crashing into some poor nurse’s collection of knick-knacks. The cat faunus rose to her feet as fast as she could, hoping her aura could correct any disorientation. It had been depleted by her fights with Grimm and White Fang on the way to the infirmary, but she still should have had enough to keep going.

Mercury smirked, fresh as a daisy. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d had as much opposition getting there as she had.

He glanced downward, and Blake realized in horror that he was now right next to Yang. Her eyes widened in despair as the killer raised his foot.

“Looks like we are done,” he quipped.

A flash of red filled the room.

Blake blinked.

When she looked again, Mercury was lying on the ground, his head separated from his body.

Blake looked up at her savior and felt no relief.

A familiar figure with red hair and bull horns returned his crimson katana to a scabbard at his waist. “Indeed, we are.” He spat at Mercury’s corpse.

“No” Blake whispered. Not him.

Adam turned to Blake, the mask of a Grimm hiding golden eyes she knew all too well.

“Hello, my darling.”

 

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****

Arturia decapitated an Alpha Beowolf. Then she shot over to a squadron of Atlesian Knights and tore them apart.

Nothing could touch her. She was in a league all her own. With each swipe of her invisible sword, waves of air shot out and smashed the forces of darkness, whether they be Grimm or machine.

Behind her, Qrow and Glynda did much the same, though they performed on a lesser scale. Still, a hurricane was still mighty even when it was compared to a maelstrom.

The three of them annihilated everything before them but the enemy just kept coming. Worse, they were too well integrated into the city for Arturia to risk using her Noble Phantasm. If she did, there was a chance she could incinerate innocent civilians. And as much as she refused the call of a hero, Ozpin had not been wrong.

She was still a knight. She had been raised a knight. Before she had been told of her destiny, it had been all she had ever dreamed of.

But she had chosen to live as a king. It was not an error she would make twice.

Or maybe it was. After all, all it took was a few words from Merlin and here she was, fighting as he advised, far from the son she had come to protect. All for the sake of faceless people she would never know.

Arturia had sworn to live when she had married Nicholas. To be the girl who picked flowers and chased butterflies, so her children would follow her new path and know happiness throughout their lives.

And yet against all odds, Jaune dreamed of her old path.

The path of the martyr.

_“But who can truly admire the martyr’s thorny path? Who dreams of such an ending?”_

Her son apparently, though only because he did not understand what it truly meant. The King of Conquerors was likely laughing at her fortune from beyond the grave, baying at how even now her flawed ideals of kingship haunted her.

But even now, she could not disguise her pride for how Jaune had grown into the part and even surpassed her in some ways. When his friends had challenged her, he had done what he could to make sure they would not suffer should they have failed. When he sensed Pyrrha’s distress about the Maiden matter, he had talked to her, made her feel better without ever prying into her privacy.

She had held herself to inhuman standards during her reign and that had left her unable to understand the emotions of humans, as Tristan had so eloquently put it before storming out of Camelot. Indeed, perhaps if she had done as Jaune did with Lancelot or Mordred, she could have saved her people.

No.

_“You may have saved them. But you never led them.”_

If Jaune had been in the room when Ozpin had ordered her to protect the city, she knew he would have agreed with the headmaster. That didn’t make trusting him with his fate any easier.

An explosion in the midst of the Atlesian Knights drew Arturia’s attention. From the smoke emerged General Ironwood, revolver at the ready. His previously proper military jacket had been torn to shreds, revealing his entire right side to be cybernetic, which Arturia was admittedly intrigued about but it was neither the time nor place.

The General blasted the surrounding robots with brutal efficiency. When he turned his weapon on the squad approaching Arturia and the others however, the enemy machines’ heads suddenly sparked and then flew off, leaving the rest of the scrap to fall to the ground.

Ironwood turned to the others. “This area is secure. We need to—”

“General, behind you!” Arturia yelled.

She need not have bothered. Qrow activated some mechanism in his weapon to transform the blade into a massive scythe. A moment later, he had leapt past the general and sliced the approaching Griffon in two.

He landed with a flourish and rested his polearm over his shoulder. Arturia suspected she had found the man behind Ruby’s training. He was certainly capable enough.

Qrow turned to Ironwood. “Go on, Jimmy.”

Ironwood’s fist closed in impotent rage. “Someone has done the impossible and taken control of my machines. And that enormous Grimm seems to be fixated on the school.”

Arturia noted the beast that roamed the skies, spilling down droplets of darkness that spawned more Grimm to test them. It reminded her of the dragons that had existed in her time, like Merlin had infused in her when she was born. It granted her great strength, and if their foe had similar power, she feared that it would be difficult to defeat.

Though not impossible. Lancelot’s Arondight was proof of that.

The General turned to Glynda. “Glynda, form up with the local huntsmen and create a perimeter around the school. Qrow, evacuate Beacon. We can’t let anyone get caught in the crossfire of that thing. I’ve still got to get to my ship.”

Said ship proceeded to crash to the ground a few blocks away from the group.

Qrow smirked at the General. “Well, it’s not gonna be much of a walk.”

Ironwood smiled. Whether at the jab, or the defeat of his stolen weaponry, Arturia did not know.

Glynda’s scroll rang. She immediately answered. On the screen was a man with spiked green hair and glasses.

“Bartholomew, thank the gods, you’re alright,” Glynda told him.

“Similar sentiments to you, Glynda,” the man responded. “Though I wish that remark was without cause. Peter and I are nearly done evacuating the coliseum, but there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“Do you have a view of the eastern wall?”

“No,” Glynda informed him. “What’s happened?”

“It’s gone.”

The huntsmen present took a moment to process that. “Gone? What do you mean it’s gone, Bart?” Qrow roared.

“I mean, Qrow, that the entire structure has been torn off its base and a column of Goliaths are currently marching through it!”

Arturia growled. She had encountered Goliaths during her years of wandering. They weren’t much more trouble for her than any other Grimm, but the elephant-like beasts were powerful. Entire teams of elite huntsman were sent in to kill just one. An entire column? In the middle of an invasion?

The kingdom wouldn’t survive the night.

There was only one thing to do.

“Sir, can you see where the Goliaths are now?” Arturia inquired commandingly.

Bartholomew blinked quickly at her presence and then hurriedly looked over his shoulder. “I can,” he confirmed. “But any picture we send will be too high up to identify an exact location.”

“I just need the general area,” Arturia told him. “Send the image to Qrow and I’ll deal with them.”

“How? There’s dozens of—”

“Bartholomew, just do it,” Glynda commanded. “Mrs. Arc can handle the situation.”

The man paused, but nodded in the end. “It’ll be there in a few moments.”

“Good, meet up with me at Beacon. We’re evacuating the school.” Glynda ended the call and turned to Arturia. Her face showed far more worry than she had moments before. “You can handle it, correct? I know you’re a Servant and I’ve seen what you can do but—”

“She’s got it, Glynda,” Qrow vouched. “I’ll tag along just to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“Servant?” Ironwood muttered. “How—”

“We can talk about it later, Jimmy” Qrow insisted. “Right now, we’ve all got things to do.”

Ironwood didn’t look happy about it, but he conceded the point with a nod. He and Glynda headed off to the school.

Qrow turned to Arturia as his scroll buzzed. He pulled up the image they needed.

The drunk man looked to her. “Is yours something flashy?”

Assuming he was referring to what she thought he was, Arturia nodded.

“Great. Let’s go save a kingdom.”

****

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Blake liked to think she was a brave person. She willingly signed up to be both a terrorist and a huntress after all. Neither of those jobs were free of risk.

But there were several things in the world that scared her: how many innocents she accidently hurt during her time with the White Fang, how much her parents were going to crucify her the next time she saw them, Zwei.

And Adam. Adam was definitely at the top of that list.

Most people, Blake was confident she could beat. And if she was outmatched, then she could figure out some underhanded trick to get out of danger. Not with Adam. Everything she knew about combat, he taught her. Every sword form, every shot cluster, every underhanded trick, he knew what she could do and, more importantly, he knew how she would do it. She couldn’t beat him.

And given how their last meeting went, she doubted she could reason with him.

But maybe if she could draw him away, she could keep him from killing Yang. Her partner would still be unconscious in a school full of Grimm, but that was better than death by katana.

Blake shuffled back, preparing to flee.

Adam scoffed. “Running away again? Is that what you’ve become my love? A coward?”

Okay, that plan was out. Time to try reasoning. Maybe she could buy a few seconds for help to arrive.

“Why are you doing this?” Blake demanded of him.

Adam cocked his head to the side in that way that Blake knew meant he had raised an eyebrow under his mask. “Saving you from a human brute? Why would I not?”

Blake growled. As if she’d think that him saving her was anything more than coincidence. His next hateful kill just happened to help Yang.

Adam sighed. “Believe it or not Blake, I’m not here to fight you.”

“I’d believe that a bit more if you weren’t currently invading my school.”

Adam gestured to Mercury’s corpse. “An unfortunate necessity. His mistress made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“I doubt that,” Blake hissed.

“It’s the truth,” Adam insisted. “Shortly after you abandoned me, Cinder Fall came into our camp wielding power unlike anything I’d ever seen. She demanded we assist her, and slaughtered half the men to show us what would happen if we refused.”

Blake’s eyes widened in grief. She knew most of the faunus in that camp. She had fought beside them. Sure, it hadn’t been for the best cause, but not everyone was an extremist. Some had just been desperate. And now they were dead.

Adam glanced down at Yang. He softly kicked her body onto her back.

Blake slowly shifted herself to retrieve Gambol Shroud. She wouldn’t let him hurt her partner.

Adam grimaced. “All this with a single punch? Kotomine wasn’t kidding.”

Blake stopped cold. “How do you know Kirei?”

Adam looked back at her. “He came in with Cinder, though apparently he’s far from loyal. A while after they came here to Beacon, his associate came to stay with us.”

“Associate?”

“More like master. Kotomine is dangerous, but his king is a force of nature.”

Adam grinned. “However, nature can provide opportunities.”

Blake shrank back, her terror growing near uncontrollable at the sight of his smile. “What are you talking about?”

Adam held out a hand. “Come back to me, Blake.”

What?

Adam was asking her to come back? Adam didn’t forgive. Adam swore vengeance and slaughtered everyone you’d ever met. This had to be some sort of trick.

“I will not kill innocent people,” Blake declared, her eyes hardening as much as they could in the given situation. She gestured to the chaos surrounding them. “I never wanted this. I wanted equality! I wanted peace!”

“What you want is impossible!” Adam roared, his hand shooting to his katana. Blake took a step back out of instinctual fear, her hands clutching her sheath as tight as they could. Adam would draw Wilt at any moment.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Adam took several deep breaths. He removed his hand from his sword hilt. “But soon, the impossible will become very possible.”

He raised his hand to his face, and removed his mask.

Adam had introduced the idea of wearing the Grimm masks to the White Fang after he’d returned from his training. He said they should wear them during their missions to hide their identities. But also, to make sure that any human that saw them, saw only what they feared most in all the world. They would become darkness and strike from shadows to reclaim their world.

Blake had never worn the masks. She had no issue with working in the shadows, but becoming darkness seemed a bit extreme.

Her fears were justified when Adam had stopped taking his off.

And yet, golden eyes, harder than she remembered but softer than she’d feared, stared back at her.

In that desolate hall in Beacon, she had to wonder. Was there still a man beneath the monster?

“Join me, Blake,” Adam offered again. “Together we can claim what’s ours. We can get justice for our people. We can get everything we’ve ever wanted.”

Alarm bells went off in Blake’s head. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your idea of justice, Adam? Slaughtering every human on Remnant? We don’t want the same thing.”

Adam growled but shook his head sadly. “You don’t understand. What I have always wanted is for our people to not be looked down upon, to be known as the glorious race we are. Instead of a pack of animals. And if you are by my side, I can suffer the humans. Because above all, I want you, Blake.”

He put his mask back on, cutting off the hope of the man Blake once knew. He stepped aside and gestured to the infirmary’s exit. “You don’t understand. It has yet to begin. Take your… _friend_ and go. My men will keep the Grimm off you.”

Blake couldn’t believe it. It was too good to be true. But Adam didn’t need to deceive her so…

She decided not to waste the miracle. She grabbed Gambol Shroud off the floor and sheathed it on her back. Then, she lifted Yang over her shoulder and walked away.

Before she left, Adam called out to her one last time.

“Know this, my love. By the end of tonight, it will have begun. A miracle will be within reach. I hope you are by my side to claim it.”

****

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Arturia and Qrow made it to the remnants of the eastern wall before the Goliaths dispersed. Unfortunately, so did the hoard of smaller Grimm charging in front of them.

Arturia raised her sword before her and closed her eyes.

“Whatever you’re going to do, now would be a good time to do it,” Qrow told her. She heard his scythe cut down any Grimm that got too close.

In truth, Arturia didn’t know why she hesitated. She’d done this a thousand times before. It was her Noble Phantasm after all. Her legend.

Or rather, the legend of King Arthur. The perfect monarch, devoted to ideals that doomed a kingdom. Everything she had become, everything she had failed, was embodied by her sword.

Even if Caliburn had been the one that made her king, the one in her hands had defined her.

To use it would be to take up that burden once more. To doom herself and those around her to the path of the martyr. She could never lead them.

It was a good thing they only needed to be saved.

The invisible air evaporated from her blade and the greatest of holy swords lit the darkest hour of Vale.

The lesser Grimm gazed upon the weapon, shining like a second sun, and cowered, their hellish forms dissipating under its glare.

The Goliaths saw the weapon and charged, howling against the merciless glow, determined to see it die. Or perhaps they were old enough to know they had already lost, and whatever they had that constituted for minds simply did not wish to die cowards.

Qrow gazed back to Arturia and his eyes widened.

For the first time, he looked upon the King of Knights.

“Stand behind me.” Qrow followed her order. Arturia raised her sword.

“ **EXCALIBUR**!!!”

The blade came down and a volcano of light, the prayer of glory, erupted upon the creatures of Grimm. The demons screamed for a moment, and then were banished back to the void, obliterated by the promised victory of mankind.

When the light faded, not a single monster remained.

Arturia lowered her weapon and sighed. Her physical form’s ability to regenerate _prana_ made using her Noble Phantasm easier, but Excalibur was still an exhausting technique. She didn’t think she’d be able to do it again that night.

From behind her, Qrow whistled. “So that’s why Oz trusts you so much.”

Arturia turned to the huntsman and smirked. “Merlin has always praised my skill with Excalibur. So much that he keeps stealing it to use himself.”

And her children said she had no sense of humor. That was a jest as fine as any Gwaine ever said. Truly, her time on Remnant had grown her into a remarkable human being.

“Who the hell is Merlin?”

…

Curses. Foiled Again.

 

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He stood on a hillside overlooking Vale. Even if he could not enter the city as of yet, there was no reason to miss the show.

The huntsmen’s valiant struggle against those disgusting creatures of Grimm was amusing. They put forth all their effort and all their will but, in the end, the mongrels were simply outnumbered and outmaneuvered. The flying monstrosity making its way to the tower certainly didn’t help.

As much as Cinder Fall bored him, he couldn’t deny that the results of her plot provided him with _some_ entertainment.

And if nothing else, he now knew that the King of Knights remained a wondrous being. After hearing nothing of her for the past three decades and then having Kirei report her apparent apathy to the world, he feared his treasure had lost her luster. Become nothing more than a common coward, hiding from her own strength and the duty to use it.

The familiar light of her trinket had soothed those worries. When it had shined through the night as brilliantly as it had on the Mion River, he knew that his lost possession had maintained her value.

So, in addition to reclaiming what was stolen from him, he would take what was his to take.

His scroll rang, and the blonde-haired man put it to his ear. Only one man had his permission to contact him thusly.

“Is it done, Kirei?”

“It is, my king. Miss. Fall has dealt with Ozpin. The bounded field will be down shortly.”

“And she has the Maiden’s full power?” Everything depended on that.

“She does.”

The blonde man smiled. “Excellent. I will meet you at the base of the tower. Then we shall conclude our business with Miss. Fall.”

“It will be done, my king.”

The man ended the call and willed a golden portal into existence before him.

Gilgamesh strode into the Gate of Babylon.

This world was a worthy one, but he would burn it to the ground if his treasure was kept from him.

He was the king, after all.


	12. Gold and Silver

Pyrrha and Jaune raced out of Beacon Tower as fast as they could.

They stopped to catch their breath amidst the rubble right outside. An open locker rested to the side on a cracked stone wall.

Pyrrha shook her head as she reeled. How did it all go so wrong? Ozpin had come to get her and Jaune had followed them down to the vault. The headmaster had reluctantly ordered him to watch the door and then asked her one last time if she was willing to take up the maiden’s power.

She realized that even with her fears, there was only one thing left she could to do to protect her friends. She would gain the power to help them, and as Mrs. Arc had said, they would fight the darkness together. And they would win.

She had gotten into the pod and Ozpin began the process of transferring Amber’s aura to her. It was pain the likes of which she had never felt before. She had screamed.

That was her mistake.

Jaune, wonderful, kind, caring Jaune, abandoned his post and immediately ran to her side. His eyes were on her instead of the door.

And then she came through it.

Cinder Fall strutted out of the elevator and fired an arrow straight into Amber’s heart. Pyrrha immediately felt the power abandon her and rush to the murderess. Her eyes glowed with a demonic light and she rose into the air in a burst of flames.

Pyrrha blasted the door of her containment pod at the woman. Cinder batted it aside like it was nothing.

Ozpin thrust out his hand to prevent her from charging. “Take Jaune and get out of here! Find Glynda, Ironwood, Qrow! The tower cannot fall.”

“But I can help,” she protested, her failure taking root in her mind.

Ozpin gave her a pitying look. “You’ll only get in the way.”

Pyrrha had come from Mistral, but all of Remnant knew of Professor Ozpin’s prowess. He was thought by most to be the most preeminent huntsman in the world. If he didn’t think she could help, then she couldn’t help, no matter how bitter a pill it was to swallow.

She had nodded reluctantly and grabbed her partner. Cinder let them pass. She was too focused on the headmaster.

Now, here they were. Safe outside the tower while Ozpin battled for his life.

And Pyrrha could do nothing to help.

“Okay, I think I have Glynda’s number,” Jaune muttered frantically. He searched through his scroll’s contacts as he walked off. “Come on, where is it?”

Pyrrha didn’t follow him, her eyes focused solely on the tower.

“Pyrrha?” She turned to Jaune. His eyes were wet with stress. Not that she could blame him. “What was that?”

Pyrrha looked to the ground, unsure if the secrecy she had been trusted with was still to be maintained. “I—”

The sound of an explosion from the tower interrupted her. Both huntsmen in training heard a rush of flames as Cinder rocketed to the top floor.

Which could only mean one thing.

Jaune looked to the ground. “Ozpin…”

Pyrrha shook her head regretfully. There was only one thing to do. “There’s no time. Go, get to Vale and call for help.”

“Huh? What are you going to do?”

Pyrrha took a step towards the tower. Jaune followed her gaze and his eyes widened.

“No. Pyrrha, you can’t. You saw how powerful she is. Pyrrha, I won’t let you—”

Pyrrha shut him up with a kiss. Jaune was stunned for a moment, but in the end, rested his arms at her waist.

She kept it going longer than she should have. She knew this would hurt him. But she had dreamed about kissing since they first met, and the reality was even better than she had imagined.

Besides, she didn’t think she’d get another chance.

Pyrrha broke the kiss, her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

She used her powers to shove Jaune into the abandoned locker and slammed the door behind him. She programmed the rocket system to take him as far away as it could manage on its compromised fuel. He pleaded with her the entire time.

She blocked it out and watched him fly away.

Pyrrha took a breath to calm herself. She knew this was a terrible idea. Cinder had the power of the Fall Maiden and had nearly killed the previous wielder without it. With it, she had defeated Ozpin, a huntsman with more experience than she could imagine. Whatever meager talent Pyrrha had would be nothing to her.

And yet, if Pyrrha did nothing, the world itself would be in danger.

Arturia had told her that the burden was her choice.

But there was no choice.

The champion charged into Beacon Tower.

She made her way to the elevator bank but came up short when she spotted a man standing in front of them. He put away a scroll and turned to face her.

Pyrrha hissed as she recognized him and readied her weapons.

Kirei raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but he didn’t assume a combat stance.

“Get out of my way,” Pyrrha demanded. She didn’t have the time to deal with him too

Surprisingly though, Kirei obeyed her command, stepping aside from the elevator door.

Pyrrha couldn’t keep the shock from her face. She approached cautiously, her weapons at the ready.

Kirei chuckled, as if her efforts were amusing. “If I may, Ms. Nikos, a question before you pass?”

Pyrrha made her way up the steps of the door, never turning her back on the unsettling man. “What is it?”

“You know what she has become?” Kirei asked. The ‘she’ in question was obvious.

Pyrrha nodded.

Kirei smirked. “And yet you still choose to face her.” He began to laugh.

Pyrrha scowled and entered the elevator. Cinder had destroyed the electronics on her way up, but that was an obstacle easily surmounted.

Pyrrha focused her power and took command of the carriage.

Kirei stopped laughing. “Best of luck, Pyrrha Nikos.”

She sensed the wish was genuine. That made it even more disturbing.

Pyrrha shot herself upward towards her greatest foe. She did not see the circle of gold that appeared behind Kirei when she left.

 

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Everything blurred in Ruby’s memory.

Arriving on Ironwood’s ship.

Fighting Neo and Torchwick.

Knocking Neo off the ship.

Torchwick getting eaten by a Griffon.

Using said Griffon to crash the ship.

Falling back to Beacon.

And then that light. That brilliant pillar of light erupted in the east. When Ruby saw it, hope surged through her body.

They would survive this. Everything would be alright.

No one else would die.

She made her way to the ground and rushed to the docks. She saw a familiar white figure standing guard.

“Weiss!”

Her partner turned and smiled. “Ruby!”

The two embraced.

“Thank goodness you’re okay,” Ruby said. She looked around aimlessly. “Where are Blake and Yang?”

Weiss gripped her shoulder comfortingly. “They’re fine. Blake went and got Yang from the infirmary. They both got out on the first bullhead.”

Ruby sighed, relieved that her sister was safe. But the explanation left a serious question. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Weiss looked at her like she was the thickest idiot on the planet. “Do you really think I would leave you behind, you dolt? Besides, if I did, Yang would kill me the moment she woke up.”

Ruby didn’t smile at the joke. Every moment her partner remained was another moment she could get hurt. She gazed around the area.

Ren and Nora were on the ground, each nursing wounds that kept them there. Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck were corralling people into shuttles. Sun and Neptune were going around patching people up. And Neptune was doing it for _guys_.

Beacon was getting more dangerous by the second. Weiss was already a major target for the White Fang. She shouldn’t be risking herself for Ruby.

Weiss noticed Ruby’s dour mood but didn’t understand the reason behind it. “Ruby,” she began hesitantly, “I’m sorry about Penny.”

Ruby nodded, keeping the tears from her eyes. She could cry later. There was no time for that now.

“Everyone! Your attention, please!” Port shouted to everyone around. “Everyone must get on the shuttles now!”

“No dawdling,” Doctor Oobleck supported him. “This is a mandatory evacuation!”

“Wait!” Nora yelled, her voice strained. “Jaune and Pyrrha are still out there!”

She tried to stand but collapsed the moment she got to her feet. Sun grabbed her to keep her from crashing to the ground. “Easy, Nora. You guys aren’t in any shape to fight. None of us are. We have to go.”

“We’re not leaving!” Ren roared. He tried to rise but had no more success than his partner.

“Guys, listen,” Sun demanded. “That huge Grimm is still circling the school. Even the White Fang are pulling out. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Ruby’s eyes hardened.

“I’ll find them,” she declared. “I’ll find them and bring them back.”

“No, we will,” Weiss told her. When Ruby looked ready to protest, the heiress held up a hand. “I’m **not** leaving you behind.”

Ruby paused for a moment.

She couldn’t let Weiss get hurt. But could she save Jaune and Pyrrha on her own?

She reluctantly nodded to her partner and the two raced off into the school.

 

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Jaune collapsed out of the locker and fell to the ground.

He panted heavily, desperately trying not to cry. Tears wouldn’t help Pyrrha.

He couldn’t be useless.

He ripped his scroll out of his pocket and called the contact he had specially put at the top of the list.

The call went through.

“Jaune?” Weiss’ voice rang through the speaker.

“Weiss!” he screeched. “You have to help Pyrrha! She’s at the tower! She’s going to fight that woman, she doesn’t stand a chance!”

“What? Jaune, you’re not making any sense. Just tell us where you are and—”

“AAAAHH!” Jaune roared wordlessly, his emotions giving out. He threw his scroll to the ground. He fell onto his hands and knees. “Save Pyrrha. Just save Pyrrha.”

Because he couldn’t.

He was useless. The weakest idiot who shouldn’t even be there. He should have watched the door like Ozpin told him to, but he got distracted and now Ozpin was dead.

Pyrrha and his mom had believed in him. They had trusted him and assured him that he could be a great leader, that he could save people.

But they were wrong. He was pathetic. He couldn’t save anyone. Pyrrha had shot him away the first chance she got because he would be a liability in her fight.

And she was right. For all his mom was unstoppable, he was weak. Powerless.

_Wait…_

Jaune scrambled across the ground and snagged his scroll. He dug through the contacts and nearly jumped for joy when he spotted what he needed. He would run back to the tower to help, but someone else could get there faster.

“Jaune? Is that you? Where are you? Are you safe?”

Jaune smiled. “Mom, Pyrrha’s in trouble.”

 

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Cinder sauntered around Ozpin’s office.

It felt good, just as it should. No less than she deserved.

Her mistress had told her of the maiden’s power and she had had half of it within her for months now, but nothing could have prepared her for having the full force at her command. It was more than mere fire, it was as if the sun itself had taken residence within her and she had become one with its radiance. All creation revolved around her and feared her wrath.

It was glorious.

The Wyvern flew to outside of the office and hovered in front of the window. The beast growled but Cinder had no fear for it to feed on. Why would a god need fear a lowly dragon?

She shushed the monster like it was an impudent child. “This is your home now” she ordered it. She would unleash it upon all of Vale and drive the pathetic, worthless huntsmen from her realm. The beast would guard her new kingdom, and when the time came, it would be her mount in her mistress’ final war.

She lit a flame in her hand, unable to contain her excitement. Everything was coming to a head.

A ding from the elevator drew her attention. The doors opened, and a sword came flying out.

Cinder smirked and leisurely dodged the blade. Soon after, a shield followed out with an irate Pyrrha Nikos on its back.

Cinder repelled the assault and watched as the Mistral champion summoned her weapons. She smirked and propelled herself upward on a jet of flame.

She had beaten Amber without her power. With it, she’d crushed Ozpin.

Pyrrha Nikos was not a threat.

Nonetheless, the Invincible Girl charged.

Cinder was casual about the battle. Time and again, she knocked Pyrrha down. Each time the girl got up and tried some new way to fight her better.

Her sword was destroyed? She put Cinder in a chokehold.

The chokehold was broken by the Wyvern destroying the tower? Use her powers to bury Cinder in rubble.

That didn’t work? Throw her shield.

Cinder battered the shield aside and broke the girl’s aura with a blast of fire. Pyrrha smashed into the wall and slumped to the ground.

Cinder sighed and turned her back.

Pyrrha’s eyes shot open and the girl lunged for her shield. She rolled, picked it up, and threw at Cinder’s back.

Hearing the movement, Cinder formed her weapons, notched an arrow in her bow, whirled, and fired. The arrow broke upon Nikos’ shield, but then reformed and shot her in the heel. The shield went over Cinder’s head.

Cinder shook her head mockingly as Nikos crawled. The young huntress, for there was no other word for her foolish tenacity, was impressive. If Cinder was still a mere mortal, the girl might have actually stood a chance. Sadly for her, Cinder had become more powerful than she could possibly imagine.

She circled around the beaten girl and lifted her chin up. “It’s unfortunate that you were promised a power that was never truly yours.”

She nocked another arrow into her bow and aimed at Pyrrha’s heart. “But take comfort in knowing that _I_ will use it in ways you could never have imagined.”

Pyrrha stared back at her. “Do you believe in destiny?”

Cinder narrowed her eyes. What did she—

She sensed the danger before she saw and leapt to the side. Three long blades flew past her body, destroying her bow as they went.

She whirled on the door and came face to face with her attacker. She snarled.

“Kirei! You dare attack me?” she shouted.

The infernal man had the nerve to smirk at her outrage. Three more Black Keys were drawn in his left hand.

“I don’t know what you mean, Cinder,” he protested. “I am only doing as I promised.”

“What?” Cinder hissed. An aura of flames erupted all around Cinder, forcing Pyrrha to dive away from her and crawl to the wall. Cinder didn’t even notice. She only had eyes for one insolent fool. “And what promise would that be?”

Kirei raised an eyebrow. “You requested a warning the next time my plans would inconvenience you. Consider it given.”

Six golden portals opened around Cinder’s feet. Out of each shot an enormous golden chain. They wrapped around her and dragged her to the ground. The fire around her was extinguished in an instant.

Cinder roared. She called upon the maiden’s power, but the chains seemed to hold it back somehow. Her physical strength was just as useless. She was trapped.

“What is this, bastard?” she yelled.

Kirei stalked behind her, blades in hand. “I told you that you would have the Fall Maiden’s power. Now, I require the use of it.”

Cinder spotted something on the horizon. Even restrained, she smirked. “I believe someone will take issue with that.

The Wyvern circled in the sky. With a flap of its mighty wings, it barreled towards the tower, lesser Grimm falling to the ground below.

Cinder couldn’t wait for the beast to take Kirei in its jaws and snap him in two. She wondered if the corpse would still have that damn smile. He should have known better than to get in the way of her power.

Suddenly, golden portals like the ones the chains came from appeared above the dragon. A barrage of gleaming swords shot out of them like machine gun fire and impaled the beast a dozen times over.

The creature howled in agony and plummeted from the sky.

Nikos’ jaw dropped. Cinder would have mocked her for it if she wasn’t sure that her own visage was very much the same.

One of the most powerful Grimm that she had ever seen, defeated like some common Nevermore. Just like herself, she soon realized.

From the moment she brought Kirei into her fold, she’d known she was playing a dangerous game with the man. She had just never dreamed she’d lose.

Another golden portal appeared on the tower and shot out another chain to bind Nikos to the remnants of the wall. It did not shine like the ones that held Cinder, but after the beating the girl had taken it was probably all that was necessary.

One final portal appeared, this one was larger than the others, tall enough for a person to fit through. Indeed, a blonde man with red eyes and magnificent golden armor stepped out of it. He scoffed at the falling dragon.

“A pity to waste my swords on such a disgusting monstrosity,” he commented.

“A true shame, my king,” Kirei concurred. “If you would?”

The golden man acknowledged him with a look and several portals deposited various staffs in a pentagram around Cinder.

“This had better go faster than last time, Kirei. I refuse to allow this ruin to stain my glorious visage any longer than necessary.”

“It shall be done, my king,” Kirei assured him. “Last time took some experimentation, but I believe that the ritual should proceed quite rapidly now.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “What are you—”

Whatever she was about to say disappeared in an unholy scream.

Kirei had stabbed her in the back with all three Black Keys and begun chanting in a language she did not recognize. She didn’t know why her aura didn’t stop it, but her body blazed with agony. Her entire vision vanished in a storm of blinding flames.

For the first time she could remember, Cinder Fall burned.

 

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Pyrrha didn’t know if she should be grateful for the startling turn of events or not.

On one hand, she was fairly certain Cinder had been about to kill her, and Kirei and the strange golden man’s arrival had prevented that. Plus, the flying Grimm that had been threatening the school was dead.

On the other, she was now chained to a slab of stone she was sure used to be a wall and watching as the two tortured Cinder in some archaic ritual. Orange light glowed out of the vile woman’s eyes and mouth, with no sound rising because her throat had already been incinerated.

Pyrrha pitied her would be murderer. No one deserved… whatever this was.

Kirei closed his eyes and began chanting in some strange language. The light from Cinder shot into one of the staffs that encircled them.

“It’s disgusting, is it not?”

Pyrrha turned her to the golden man, unsure if he had spoken to her. She didn’t know if she wanted him to.

But sure enough, he tilted his head toward her. “To think I would need to use the Chain of Heaven to bind such a vulgar mongrel. She isn’t even worthy to gaze upon its shadow.”

Pyrrha flinched at the bile in the man’s voice. “I suppose not,” she spoke carefully, “but with her power, what else could restrain her?” Truthfully, she had no idea how the chain was restraining Cinder, but seeing how it had appeared out of thin air, she was going to guess magic.

The man closed his eyes and gave a disgruntled sigh. When he opened them again there was a dangerous glint in them. He faced Pyrrha fully.

“Mongrel, do you know in whose presence you stand?”

_‘Not at all’._

Pyrrha doubted things would end well if she said that. “I am sorry to say I do not, your majesty. Please forgive my insolence.”

The man smirked contently. “Well, at least you admit your folly. Alas, it seems that my legend has still not yet spread since my arrival in this world.”

_‘He still didn’t introduce himself. And what does he mean ‘this world?’’_

“You subdued Cinder,” Pyrrha pointed out. “With your defeat of this vile villain, word of your heroism will surely spread, your grace.”

Gods, it felt weird to talk like that. Maybe Remnant really got rid of their kings because the titles were just too annoying.

The light cascading from Cinder expanded its reach to another staff.

The blonde man raised an eyebrow at Pyrrha. “Is that why you challenged this one, mongrel? For the glory victory would bring you?”

“NO!” Pyrrha responded more quickly and fiercely than she should have. The king’s eyes flared with dangerous fire. Pyrrha immediately pulled herself back, bowing her head as much as she could given her restraints. “I did not seek glory, your grace. If anything, I would rather have none of that.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because it needed to be done.” Pyrrha declared without doubt. “And I was the only one who could do it.”

“If I had not intervened, she would have killed you.”

“I still needed to try.”

She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if she didn’t.

The king studied her for a moment, trying to detect any hint of deceit. After finding none, he threw back his head and laughed. It was an unsettling sound, yet also somehow pleasant. Once again, Pyrrha didn’t know what to think.

The man settled down and wiped a tear from his eye. “You are quite foolish, mongrel. But your foolishness is that of a conqueror.” He smiled, this one far kinder than before. He looked to Kirei and Cinder. “Ever since I arrived in this world, I cannot decide whether that brand’s commonality is something to be praised for its worthiness, or bemoaned for its loss of rarity.”

Suddenly, Ruby shot up into the sky and came down on the tower. Her silver eyes widened at the sight of Kirei’s ritual. Another two staffs were connected.

“Ru—”

“You!” the king roared. Pyrrha swung her head back at him. His smile was gone, his teeth now barred like fangs. His eyes raged with crimson fury.

Ruby turned to look at them. The blonde man wilted under her silver gaze, but he quickly recovered. Pyrrha wondered what that was about.

“Pyrrha!” Ruby shouted, drawing Crescent Rose. She dashed towards her friend, her scythe reaching out to cut Pyrrha’s chains.

A dozen golden portals appeared behind the king and fired a volley of swords at the red hooded girl. Ruby dodged and weaved as best she could, just barely managing to make it to Pyrrha.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“No,” Pyrrha told her. Even with her restraints broken, Cinder’s final arrow had cut a crucial tendon. “Ruby, I can’t walk.”

Her silver eyes hardened. “Then I’ll carry you.”

The slight girl wrapped her free arm around Pyrrha and jetted away with her semblance. They were almost away when an explosion went off right next to them. Both girls tumbled to the edge of the tower.

Pyrrha struggled to her knees. Her aura still wasn’t coming back. She was powerless.

Ruby stood up and drew Crescent Rose. “Stay back!” she yelled.

The king narrowed his eyes. A dozen more portals opened behind him. Each one slowly produced a weapon aimed at Ruby.

“I don’t know how you switched yourself with another of your damned clones, thief,” the golden man snarled. “But your execution shall not be stayed any longer. Your judgment is at hand!”

The weapons fired.

A blast of air struck Pyrrha and Ruby from behind. Both girls were driven to the ground. Pyrrha heard the distinctive clang of steel on steel. She looked around to see the golden man’s blades strewn across the tower roof.

“Arturia!” Ruby shouted with glee.

Pyrrha smiled, her joy the same as her friend’s. The Arc matriarch stood before them, one arm held out protectively in front of Ruby. The other held the woman’s sword, a brilliant blade with a gleaming golden cross guard. Pyrrha wasn’t a weapon nut like Ruby, but that sword might have been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

However, she noticed Arturia’s arm shake ever so slightly.

“Ruby, Pyrrha, stay behind me,” she commanded, a hint of fear in her voice.

The golden man smirked. “It is improper to ignore the presence of your sovereign, Saber. Has your time in this world truly decimated your manners so? It has only been thirty years.”

“Gilgamesh,” Arturia hissed. Pyrrha didn’t think she’d ever heard such vitriol. “How are you here? The grail, the mud, it should have destroyed you.”

“Destroyed me? All the world’s evils?” the king, Gilgamesh, took on a haughty look. “Bah! It would have needed three times as much just to scratch me. Even taking all of its focus off you didn’t help. Which is quite fortunate, really. To think how it would have stained you, Saber. I would never allow such a thing to corrupt _my_ treasure.”

Pyrrha noted Arturia’s grip on her sword tightening. She stepped directly in front of Ruby and held both hands on her blade. She glanced at Kirei. “Why are you here? I would think such machinations beneath you, King of Heroes.”

King of what? Pyrrha had known the man for two minutes and even she could tell he was no hero.

Gilgamesh frowned. “Normally you would be correct. But one of my greatest treasures has been stolen from me. For over a decade and a half, it has had to languish in the possession of the unworthy. I will find it. In fact…”

He glared at Ruby. “I was just going to pass judgment on one of the thieves when you arrived.”

That was impossible. Ruby was only fifteen years old. If this treasure had been missing that long there was no way she could have taken it, even if she was the kind of person who would. Which Pyrrha knew she wasn’t.

“I’m not a thief!” Ruby shouted, peeking out from behind Arturia’s back. “And I didn’t do anything to your treasure, whatever that is.”

“Silence, mongrel!” Gilgamesh yelled. “You are not fit to breathe this world’s air, let alone speak with it.”

The light of the ritual passed to the fifth staff. Kirei opened his eyes, pausing in his chant for a moment. “My king, there seems to have been some confusion. That is not the thief, it is her daughter Ruby. Summer Rose died when you killed her.”

He returned to his work, but the damage had been done.

“What?” Ruby whispered, her eyes wide in shock. Pyrrha watched as her gaze locked on to Gilgamesh and just seemed to…stop.

The golden man paid it no heed. He gave Ruby a second glance and sneered. “So it would seem. How fortuitous for her.”

The light of the ritual passed through the final staff and jumped back into Cinder, magnified a thousand-fold. Pyrrha had to cover her eyes to hide from the glare.

Kirei’s chanting became louder.

“You didn’t answer my question!” Arturia screamed holding her sword before the light. “Why are you here? Why did all these people need to die?”

“Because I now have a wish in need of granting,” Gilgamesh replied simply, unfazed by Cinder’s harsh glow. “And these maidens are one of the few things in this world with the magic to begin it again.”

“I call upon the elements, silver and iron, and the work of foundation of the great master Schweinorg!” Kirei shouted. “I bind the Throne and contract the greatest of servants!”

The light died down all of a sudden and it seemed to all be over.

But Pyrrha saw that Cinder’s eyes still glowed.

A portal opened and a chain bound Gilgamesh’s feet to the floor.

“I invoke thee, Heaven’s Feel!”

Cinder’s entire body lit up like a firework and a wave of force blasted Pyrrha, Ruby, and Arturia off the tower.

 

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Arturia’s mind reeled as she tumbled through the air.

When she had received Jaune’s frantic call, she had cursed Merlin’s foolishness. She had thought that her old mentor had put her son’s partner in the crosshairs of a madwoman and rushed off to Beacon Tower, Qrow desperately following behind. Given she had been going full speed, rapid _prana_ bursts included, it was incredible he managed to keep up for as long as he did.

Which was only six and a half seconds but still very impressive.

She’d found Weiss at the base of the tower, who informed her of Ruby’s ascent. Knowing the girl would need assistance, she spent even more of her power to jet to the top of the tower. Fortunately, she was just in time to save Ruby and Pyrrha, but not from who she had anticipated.

The King of Heroes was as arrogant and heartless as she remembered. To think he would use the Gate of Babylon on children!

Nonetheless, having been drained by Excalibur and her many _prana_ bursts, Arturia had been hesitant about entering combat. Gilgamesh was a nearly unstoppable foe at the best of times. Weakened as she was, she would stand no chance.

Kotomine’s spell prevented that from being necessary, but it put them in no less danger.

Especially if he had done what she thought he had.

Arturia took stock of the situation in an instant. She, Pyrrha, and Ruby were falling through the sky. While she was confident that she could survive the impact, neither of the girls had the aura remaining to do so, if they ever had to begin with. The two had been blown farther apart than she could reach at once.

She only had enough _prana_ remaining for one more burst.

She had two options. Use the _prana_ burst to reach the tower and then jump off it to grab one of them. It would leave her a slim chance of then maneuvering in the air to save the other one, but she could definitely protect the one she initially got a hold of.

Or she could use that burst to blast herself into the open air, trying to grab both as she soared. It would leave both girls’ chances of survival up in the air, but it would give her a better shot at getting both of them than the first option.

Arturia knew which one she would do. Both Ruby and Pyrrha were fine young women, huntresses and heroes to be. They were both kind, and loving, and caring. They both meant a great deal to Jaune, his first friend and his partner.

Arturia would save them both. She had to. For Jaune.

She was his mother.

At least, until she saw a flash of red on the back of Ruby’s hand.

Then, the situation changed, and the mantle Arturia had reclaimed mere minutes ago came crashing down upon her.

She was the King of Knights.

She had to serve the good of all.

And the fact was, for the good of all, Ruby Rose could not die.

**“Prana Burst!”**

Arturia flew towards the tower, flipping herself in mid-air to plant her feet on the structure. She bent them tightly and shot off like a spring at Ruby. She caught the red hooded girl and draped her over her shoulders. Then, she dived for Pyrrha.

Arturia plummeted faster than the champion, Ruby’s extra weight increasing gravity’s hold on her. She reached out her hand, her fingers mere inches from Pyrrha’s.

The King of Knights smiled. She could do it! She could save them both! She saw her son’s relief as he cried tears of joy into her arms upon the sight of his friends.

And then she saw him in the courtyard. Along with Weiss. And Qrow.

And the ground.

Arturia threw Ruby above her at the last second, breaking the silver-eyed girl’s fall just as her armor and remaining _prana_ broke hers.

But there was nothing to break Pyrrha’s.

Jaune’s wails of grief broke the night sky as easily as the shattered moon.

Arturia wept. Once again, she had done what she’d had to do. With Gilgamesh in the fray, the marks on Ruby’s hand made her too valuable to lose.

But Pyrrha Nikos was dead, and if Arturia could give the poor girl nothing else, then she would grant her tears.

Tears of a king who could never save anyone.

 

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Kirei grinned at Cinder’s burnt out husk. He glanced down at his right arm. Three crimson markings had joined the eight he had left over from the Fourth War.

“Well, I would say that was a spectacular success,” he observed.

“It had better be,” Gilgamesh remarked. The chain that had held him down to the tower during the release of power dissolved into golden particles. “I will not have sacrificed six treasures for nothing.”

Indeed, the staffs Kirei had used to compound the magical energy had been torched to a crisp. He could sense that their mystical forms were as ravaged as their physical ones. They were now as useless to a mage as any other lump of wood.

The Chains of Heaven, of course, were completely unblemished. That which was powerful enough to contain a god could not be damaged by mere magecraft, even of this high level. A portal to the Gate of Babylon promptly swallowed the treasure back into its holds. Another took in Cinder’s remains.

“Are you sure that the girl’s husk will serve as an adequate vessel when the time comes, Kirei?”

“It should, my liege. Previous events have given us no reason to doubt so.”

Gilgamesh smiled. “Wonderful.”

The King of Heroes walked over to the edge of the tower and peered at the courtyard below. An agonized scream of loss echoed up to the tower roof.

It made Kirei’s heart sing.

“Should we go, my liege?”

“Not yet,” Gilgamesh informed him. “I have business with Saber that has too long been postponed.”

A portal materialized in front of him. “Coming, Kirei?”

Kirei gave his new Command Seals another loving gaze.

He smirked.

“And so begins the Sixth Holy Grail War.”

 

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Ruby awoke to the sound of crying.

“Easy kiddo,” Uncle Qrow whispered. “I got you.”

Her uncle kneeled over her, his face unusually open with concern. And fear.

Ruby knew then that something was very wrong. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw Uncle Qrow afraid.

Her eyes followed the weeping to its source and there she saw something much worse.

Pyrrha, her head split open like a watermelon, lying on the ground in a crumpled heap. Her body… her corpse seemed like an insult to a girl who had always been so full of life.

Jaune kneeled next to her, cradling his partner’s fallen form as he wailed tears of agony. Weiss stood nearby, her body frozen and her eyes wide, uncomprehending of the horror in front of her.

Arturia crawled over to Jaune, taking her son in her arms and holding him to her chest as he cried

It took Ruby a moment to realize what she was seeing meant. She and Pyrrha had both fallen off the tower. The only one who could have saved them was Arturia, which meant…

_‘No. No, no one else was supposed to…’_

But they did. Arturia chose to save her.

Pyrrha was dead because she was alive.

Her friend was dead because of her.

Jaune was crying because of her.

Arturia noticed something on Jaune’s right hand and lifted it to her face. Her eyes went wide.

A golden portal opened at the base of the tower. Kirei and that mean Gilgamesh guy walked out.

They looked at the scene before them and smiled.

“Saber, I believe we have some business to conclude from our last encounter,” Gilgamesh announced. “By my decree, you are to be my wife.” Dozens of portals appeared behind the golden man. “Rest assured, this time there will be no interruptions.”

_‘No.’_

“Mom, what’s going on?” Jaune whimpered.

Arturia rose to her feet, her wobbling body shielding her son from Gilgamesh’s sight.

Nonetheless, the man’s red eyes flared at Jaune’s words. The number of golden portals tripled, each slowly releasing a weapon that Ruby would normally be drooling over.

“It seems that you have betrayed me, my adorable King of Knights,” he spat. “No matter. The bastard shall be cleansed and then you shall beg my forgiveness.”

“Jaune, run!”

_‘No.’_

Weiss raised Myrtenaster. “You’re not _cleansing_ anyone.”

“Kirei.”

In a flash, Kirei appeared before Weiss. He pulled back his fist, his arm glowing with blue lines.

Weiss’ eyes widened.

Qrow appeared in front of her, taking the punch on his sword. Unfortunately, the force of Kirei’s assault still sent him hurtling back, knocking both him and Weiss to the ground.

Kirei smiled.

“NO!” Ruby roared, her vision going white.

Arturia dove back to Jaune.

“What is this?”

“By my Command Seal…!”

Then, Ruby saw nothing.


	13. To Have Lived

_Saber found these black creatures to be tiresome. Ever since she had arrived in this new world they never seemed to leave her alone._

_Though given what her thoughts strayed to in her moments of quiet, perhaps that was for the best. After all, it was better to be tired than to focus on the past._

_So, once more she lost herself in her purpose. The sword of light. The defender of the innocent._

_The King of Knights._

_It had been a year since she’d arrived when she walked done that path. Five of those black creatures, the ones that looked like scorpions, surrounded one man who was strewn across the ground._

_Saber acted instantly and Excalibur tore through the beasts like they weren’t even there. She kneeled down to take a look at the man._

_He was tall, bulky. He wore white armor over a black shirt and blue pants. On his forearm was a sizable white shield with two golden arcs across the front. In his other hand, was a simple longsword with a blue leather handle and a golden cross guard. The man’s face was clean shaven, but he had a full head of blonde hair._

_Of more importance to Saber were his wounds, which were not few. She couldn’t leave him in the road for more of those creatures to find and she didn’t know the area well enough to look for a settlement. That left only one choice._

_She threw the man over her shoulder and headed to a cave she’d passed on her way._

****

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A shockwave rippled through Emerald. For several seconds, she was too stunned to move. Then, her right hand burned. She probably would have paid more attention to that if a plume of silver light hadn’t shot into the sky.

She wasn’t supposed to leave the rendezvous point but Mercury was a no show which, given he wasn’t stupid enough to cross Cinder, meant he was probably dead, and that silver light worried her a great deal. It came from Beacon Tower and even if Cinder could handle herself, a bit of help wouldn’t hurt against something that powerful.

She’d rushed to the tower and hopped onto the roof of one of the adjacent buildings. She got a good view of the courtyard below, but she wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at.

Ruby Rose was flat on her back while that Qrow guy and the Schnee were both leaning over her. Jaune Arc was wrapped up in some girl who looked like she was made of solid silver next to some bloody mess that was probably once a person.

Kirei was by the tower entrance, supporting some guy in heavy armor. The guy was shivering and seemed to be throwing off some kind of silver dust.

A golden portal opened up beneath them and the two vanished from sight.

Emerald blinked in astonishment. Normally she was the one making people see the impossible.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” a deep voice remarked behind her.

Emerald whirled around, terrified that she hadn’t noticed anyone was there. She came face to face with a huge, hulking man with a thick beard and a passive face. She didn’t know how someone that big snuck up on her, but she got out her kama and swung at his head.

The man casually caught her arm and twisted her wrist. Her weapon fell to the ground. His expression never changed.

“I am not here to fight you, Emerald Sustrai,” he stated. “Your mistress and I both serve the Queen.”

“Could have fooled me,” Emerald growled.

The man raised an eyebrow. “My name is Hazel Rainart. Did Cinder not inform you of my coming?”

Emerald stopped struggling. She recognized the name. Cinder had mentioned that he was another servant of their mutual mistress. She just didn’t expect him to be… well, a giant.

Hazel let go of her hand and gazed out at the courtyard. “The Gate of Babylon never fails to amaze me. Were it in the hands of a worthy individual, it would be a boon like no other. Still, those silver eyes were quite exceptional. To break through Rank A Magic Resistance is no small feat.”

“Rank A? What are you talking about? Where’s Cinder?” Emerald demanded.

Hazel spared her a short glance. “Judging by the mystical shockwave from earlier and the Command Seals on your hand, dead.”

Emerald’s world stopped.

Cinder couldn’t be dead. Cinder was confident. Cinder was strong, and beautiful, and cunning. She was invincible.

“You’re lying,” Emerald declared.

“I am not,” he refuted calmly. “The only thing left in this world capable of jumpstarting a Holy Grail War is the power of a maiden. And based on the ritual that Kotomine used for the last one, the host does not survive the process.”

“Kirei,” Emerald hissed. “that explains everything. Why he was after Amber, why he agreed to help Cinder get the full power. He was planning this from the beginning.” Her fists tightened. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Alone?” Hazel inquired.

Emerald stared him in the eye. She didn’t care that he could probably crush her like an ant. She was going to destroy Kirei. She would avenge Cinder. “If I have to.”

Hazel smiled at her. It was surprisingly warm, almost fatherly, or what she suspected that was supposed to feel like. “Your will is admirable.” He turned to leave. “Alone however, Kotomine will crush you. Even with the King of Heroes temporarily incapacitated, he is a dangerous foe. If you wish to face him, come with me.”

“Where?” Emerald asked warily, though she got the feeling that it wasn’t a request.

“To the Queen.”

 

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_The blonde man awoke half a day later. He shot up from where he’d laid and then immediately grabbed his wounds with a yelp._

_Saber threw a few more sticks into their fire, its flame illuminating their small cave._

_She glanced at the foolish man. “Don’t get up,” she warned him. “My knowledge of field medicine is limited, and your aura can only heal so much.”_

_The blonde’s wide eyes whirled over her. Saber idly noted they were a pleasant shade of blue. The color of a fair day’s sky._

_“Who are you? Where am I?” he asked frantically. He groaned, and his hand rubbed his wounds. “And what did those Grimm do to me?”_

_“Grimm?”_

_“Yeah, Grimm.” When she stared at him blankly, he started waving his arms around. “The creatures of Grimm? Big, black monsters that want to kill all humanity? Those Grimm?”_

_“Ah, so that is what they are called,” Saber remarked. “A whole year and it never came up. Strange.” She turned back to her patient. “The Grimm nearly killed you, but I dealt with them when I happened upon you. Your injuries required treatment, so I brought you here not knowing the area. As for me, you may call me Saber.”_

_“Saber, really? That’s what you’re going with?” The man shook his head. “If you’re going to give me a fake name, at least be creative about it.”_

_Saber’s eyes narrowed. “You doubt my word.”_

_“No, no, no, Saber it is. Nice to meet you, crazy girl who doesn’t know what Grimm are. I’m Nicholas Arc, call me Nick.” The man rose hesitantly, looking around the rocky room. “Where’s Crocea Mors?”_

_“What?”_

_“My shield and sword. I would have had them when I went down.”_

_“Your weapons? They are right here.” Saber reached behind a crevice and pulled them out. Nicholas grinned ear to ear and took them from her gratefully._

_“Thanks. Dad would’ve killed me if I lost this thing. It’s a family heirloom,” the man explained. He transformed the shield into a sheath and then placed the sword inside of it. “Well, thanks for everything Saber, but I’ve gotta go.”_

_“Go? You shouldn’t even be standing,” Saber informed him. “You’re not even close to healed yet.”_

_“I’ll heal on the go,” he shot back. “Those Grimm you killed, the ones that did this to me, they were a scouting party for a massive hoard heading for a settlement close by. My team and I were called in to deal with it but… well…”_

_He looked to the ground. Saber didn’t need to ask what happened to his team._

_“We will head to this settlement then,” Saber assured him. “We will have them evacuate and—”_

_“No,” Nicholas declared. “I gave them my word I’d stop the hoard. An Arc never breaks his word.”_

_“You will risk their lives for your pride?” Saber shouted incredulously._

_“What? No.” the huntsman refuted, aghast at the suggestion. “But these frontier towns, you really only come to them if you were born there or if you have nowhere else to go. No one stays in Grimm infested territory unless they don’t have a choice, or if it’s their home. The former would have nowhere to evacuate to, and the latter… well, would you abandon your home?”_

_Saber thought of Camelot, about all she’d done to protect it, to save it. And how all of it failed. How there was nothing she could do. “Sometimes you have to.”_

_“By the time I make people realize that, the horde will already be there,” Nicholas reasoned. He turned to go, but stopped and faced her again. “You can help, you know. If you took down the Grimm that were attacking me, that means you know your way around a fight. You a huntress?”_

_“No,” Saber stated. “I am no huntress and I am no hero.”_

_“Don’t need you to be. But we do need to fight. For all those people in the village who can’t. So they don’t lose their home.”_

_Saber said nothing._

_Nicholas sighed. “Can’t say I blame you. Kinda wish I could join you. But I’m a huntsman.” He said that like it explained it all. In a way, it did._

_The huntsman walked out of the cave into the daylight._

_Saber stood there in the cave. She cursed the fool in her mind. The battle couldn’t be won, why was he taking up a challenge when he knew he would fail?_

_And why did she ache to follow him?_

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****

Adam flew off in a White Fang Bullhead, his left hand holding on to a hold to keep balance in the aircraft.

His meeting with Blake had not gone as well as he’d hoped. Whatever traitorous delusions caused her to abandon him still haunted her mind. Even with the promise of a new day, she had not taken his generous offer to return to the fold. She had instead prioritized her new _friend_.

At least he’d gotten to kill that human rat Mercury. That had been as satisfying as Kirei had suggested it would be. The priest may have been off-putting, but Adam had to admit that he kept his word.

He’d felt the shockwave soon after he’d left the infirmary. He’d taken off his right glove and as promised, three new red markings had appeared on the back of his hand.

The bull faunus smiled. He would have everything he wanted.

But he didn’t have it yet, which somewhat complicated his plans. Without Blake by his side again and his previous lieutenant having died in The Breach, Adam was lacking a competent right hand.

In a conflict this important, and with foes including Kirei and his king, he dared not enter the fray without someone he could trust at his side.

Unfortunately, without Blake, the list of people he actually trusted was disappointingly minuscule. Perhaps one of the Albain brothers, but their duties in Menagerie were of vital importance, especially with the blame for the attack on Beacon most likely going to fall on his head.

Wait. Menagerie…

Adam was saddened he didn’t think of it sooner. He did have one more old friend to call upon.

It would be good to see Ilia again.

 

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****

_Saber tread quietly through the graveyard and hid behind a grove of trees._

_In front of her, Nicholas knelt before three freshly dug graves. He placed a flower atop each of them and then bowed his head._

_“I did it guys,” he whispered. “Everything turned out alright.”_

_Tears fell from the huntsman’s eyes._

_Saber felt ashamed of herself for spying on such a personal moment and turned to go._

_“Don’t,” Nicholas called out. “Saber, please don’t go. I don’t think I can handle being alone right now.”_

_The knight nodded and walked up until they were side by side._

_The two simply stood there, surrounded by graves._

_“I’m sorry for your loss,” Saber consoled him. “I’m sure they were brave and just warriors.”_

_“The bravest and…justest. I couldn’t have asked for a better team.”_

_He turned to face her. “Thanks for coming when you did. I don’t think I could have driven them off without you.”_

_Saber smirked. “I had just saved your life. I did not wish to see my effort wasted.”_

_“Yeah, yeah, so you say.” Nicholas wiggled his eyebrows. “No woman can resist the old Arc charm.”_

_Saber’s smile disappeared. “You may return to being unconscious at your leisure.”_

_“Ha!” Nicholas laughed._

_The two returned to silence and started walking back to the settlement._

_The village didn’t seem like much. The houses were plain and single story, while the walls had been damaged by the Grimm hoard. In the light of the fractured moon, it looked like it could be a ghost town._

_But among that town was not ghosts, but people. Workers were hard at labor repairing the walls. Laughing families were sitting down in their plain houses for supper. The entire place was full of life. Of living._

_Saber wasn’t sure if she’d ever lived before. When she was king, everything was to be done for the sake of her people and even before then she’d known what she was to become, in her heart. She’d never worked to repair a wall, or laughed as she sat down for supper. She’d never chased butterflies or picked flowers._

_And so, she’d never truly understood her people. She’d done everything she could to ensure their survival, but had she ensured they would live?_

_Was this what Rider had meant?_

_“Nicholas,” she asked. “This village, what’s it called?”_

_The blonde man smiled, his sky-blue eyes twinkling with far kinder mirth than the red of another golden-haired man she knew. “This, my lady, is the lovely town of Ansel.”_

_“Ansel.” The name felt good to say. Like a warm spring breeze._

_“Yeah,” Nicholas continued. “My grandpa actually founded the place after The Great War. A village where veterans of all the kingdoms could settle down and protect each other while they raised their families. Where the people who gave everything could get something back.”_

_“A place for tired heroes,” Saber remarked. How appealing._

_“I guess you could say that. Place has been getting a bit empty since the war’s generation started dying off. That’s why dad needed help with the Grimm hoard, he called up me and the team in—”_

_He stopped talking. Saber turned to face him. The twinkle in his eyes was gone._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“They were here for me,” Nicholas told her. “They came here because I asked them too, and now they’re dead.”_

_“It’s not your fault,” Saber stated. “They were your comrades. They never would have let you charge into danger alone. They could no more do that than you could break your word as an Arc.”_

_“Maybe,” Nicholas mused. He sighed. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m still a huntsman, so it’s not like I can stop running into danger now that they’re gone. I’ll have to make do alone. Unless…”_

_The man smiled and looked at Saber. The knight shuffled awkwardly under his mischievous gaze._

_“Unless?”_

_“You come with me!”_

_…_

_“What?”_

_“Come on, think about it,” Nicholas raved. “I saw you fighting that hoard. You’re amazing! You probably could’ve taken them all down yourself.”_

_“You’re not wrong,” Saber admitted. Grimm weren’t exactly a challenge for her. “What’s your point?”_

_“My point is that we could be the greatest huntsman/huntress duo Remnant has ever seen!” he proclaimed excitedly. “Think about it. You. Me. Side by side living against all odds!”_

_Living. The simple word was impossibly romantic._

_“I cannot. I told you earlier I am not a huntress.” she replied, desperate for an excuse. “I am a king. I cannot lower myself under your leadership. I’m sorry.”_

_Nicholas raised an eyebrow in confusion. “And I told you that I don’t need you to be a huntress. Or a hero, before you bring that up. And while I have no idea what a little pipsqueak like you is doing going around calling herself a king, I’m not looking for a follower. If we do this, we’re partners, got it?”_

_He held out his hand, so tantalizingly full of possibilities._

_Saber didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to do something childish for being called a ‘pipsqueak’, but she was certain that some other part was blushing._

_And the rest?_

_The rest was tired. Tired of being a king. Tired of failing at the impossible. She couldn’t save her kingdom._

_But perhaps, if its fall had come to pass by the actions of herself and her retainers, she was not meant to._

_She was meant to grieve. She was meant to learn._

_But she was meant to move on._

_And in a whole new world, a partner didn’t seem like such a bad idea._

_She took his hand._

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****

Raven dropped to her knees. Her hand felt like it was on fire.

It was an all too familiar feeling.

“Raven,” Vernal asked, also knocked to the ground. “What was that?”

The leader of the Branwen Tribe ignored her. She frantically scrapped to rip off her right glove

_‘No. No…’_

At last, she succeeded, revealing three scarlet Command Seals on the back of her hand.

They had pushed the one that had already been there up to her forearm.

_‘Not again. Please not again.’_

“Raven,” Vernal whispered warily. The false Spring Maiden could sense something off with her mentor.

A sprawling, squirming shadow of black withered on the floor of the tent.

Raven slowly rose from the ground.

A dark armored figure emerged from the shadows.

Raven heard its cries of madness reave through her mind. Just as they had for the last nineteen years.

**“AAAAAAAAA”**

Raven closed her fist and enforced her will on the Servant. Keeping it in control was taxing on her mind, but it was the only fallback she had against Salem.

_‘Or Gilgamesh. If he learns I’m alive… Oh well. If this be my destiny, then the grail shall be mine.’_

For Summer’s sake, she could not fail.

Raven turned to Vernal, her crimson eyes schooled into a determined glare.

“There’s a story you need to hear, Vernal. And then we have work to do.”

 

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****

_“Yeah! All right!” Nicholas jumped for joy after the handshake with his new partner. “Welcome to the party, Saber. We’re going to be the best partners ever!”_

_Saber chuckled at his antics, pleased that he could still have such joy in him after going through such tragedy._

_She smiled warmly as he started to run towards the village. “Race you there, Saber!”_

_“Arturia.”_

_He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. “What?”_

_“My name,” she called out to him. “My name is Arturia Pendragon.”_

_Nicholas was stunned for a moment, and then his smile somehow grew even wider than before. “I’m only calling you that if you call me Nick.”_

_“That’s not going to happen.”_

_“We’ll see. First one to the village gets their way!” He dashed down the road before the words were even out of his mouth._

_Saber—_

_…_

_Arturia shook her head in bemusement. He sure was a childish partner._

_But maybe that was what she needed. He was far from immature, his actions surrounding the Grimm and his team had shown that, but he still had a spark of wonderment in him. It was like Rider in a way, but softer, more tolerable. A desire not to conquer the world and all its pleasures, but merely to see them like…_

_Irisviel._

_Arturia smiled. She had a feeling she and Nicholas would get along just fine._

_She gathered all of her Rank B Agility and shot off down the mountain, leaving her new partner in the dust._

_Just because she was not a king did not mean she had to lose._

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****

Kirei sat Gilgamesh down on a wooden chair. The King of Heroes hissed in pain.

After Ruby’s little display, the king was too injured to truly continue combat. Though Kirei was confident he could have defeated the other exhausted combatants with little difficulty, he had no desire to. Ruby was unconscious and if not ordered otherwise, he would rather drag out the girl’s suffering. If he gorged her too much at once she might just shut down completely, and that would leave him with little to savor.

Gilgamesh had brought them back to a small church that Kirei had built during their first few years on Remnant. His faith did not exist in the strange new world, but he desired one of the old comforts of home. In design it was almost an exact replica of the Fuyuki church’s chapel. And as the good book said, he had built it on a rock.

The irony was not joyful, but he could not claim it was not amusing.

“Damn that bastard,” Gilgamesh hissed. His entire body was still coated in silver from Ruby’s assault. “I’ll have his head for this!”

_‘Mr. Arc’s?’_

That was a strange leap in blame even for Gilgamesh. Despite his grudge against Jaune, Kirei thought he would have been howling for Ruby’s blood. After all, Kirei couldn’t remember the last time the king had been wounded so gravely.

The priest looked down at his own arm and scowled. Where there were once eleven Command Seals, now there were only six. He had spent the other five boosting Gilgamesh vitality. The King of Heroes armor gave him better Magic Resistance than Saber. The fact that he would still take time to recover put Ms. Rose’s power on the level of the Age of Gods. And the greatest threat to the king by far.

“And the silver eyed girl?” Kirei inquired. “Her power far exceeds that of her mother.”

To his surprise, Gilgamesh actually became quite pensive, his eyebrows scrunched in thought.

“Leave her be for now,” he decided eventually. “While her abilities are disconcerting, there was something… familiar about her power.”

_‘Perhaps you remembered it from when Summer Rose blasted you? She did use her Semblance to augment the attack.’_

Gilgamesh of course did not hear these thoughts. “If what I suspect is true, this mongrel may be more important than she appears to be.”

His hands tightened into fists, creaking with agony all the way. His eyes revealed the fury that allowed him to do so. “And if it is not, then she will pay for what she has taken from me.”

 

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****

Jaune opened his eyes and looked around.

His mother had wrapped her arms around him, though for some reason she looked completely white and was shivering. Weiss was kneeling on the ground heavily panting. Qrow was over by Ruby, who was once again on the ground, a soft silver light emanating from her closed eyes.

Pyrrha was…

No. Don’t think about. You can’t think about it.

“Mom,” he said quietly. “What’s going on? Who was that guy?”

Surprisingly, his mother kept her head on his shoulder and coughed. Mom never coughed.

“An old enemy from another life,” she croaked. “I’m sorry I’ve left him to you. I’m sorry I didn’t save her.”

_‘Didn’t? What did that…’_

“I wanted to,” she promised him. “But a trustworthy master is too rare a thing. Little did I know I would find another right here.”

“Mom, you’re not making any—”

She raised her head and Jaune’s breath stopped. Her face seemed lifeless, hollow. Like a corpse waiting to fall over.

Yet, there was a soft smile on her face.

“Mom?” Jaune whispered worriedly.

The back of Arturia began to dissipate into dust. “I have led three lives now. I’m glad that I was able to live this one.”

She kissed his forehead even as she continued to fade.

“I love you, Jaune. You and your siblings. Remember that always. Tell your father… Tell Nic—”

She faded into golden dust before she could finish. Some of it flew into Jaune. His aura glowed for a moment and then faded.

Jaune could not comprehend. His mother was…in his arms… and now…

She was gone.

Tears flooded from his eyes even as he didn’t have the energy left to cry. “Mom? Mom? Mommy?”

“Jaune. Jaune! JAUNE!”

Jaune whirled is head around to see Weiss on her knees, madly shaking his shoulder. He didn’t even realize she’d approached.

“Weiss, where’d she go? She was here and then—”

“I don’t know, Jaune. I’m sorry, she’s gone. But Grimm could be swarming this place any minute now. We have to go. I’m sorry but we have to go.”

“Go?” he whimpered. He looked at where Pyrrha landed. He looked where his mother should be. “We can’t go. We can’t leave them—”

“They wouldn’t want you to die kid,” Qrow shouted over to him. He carried Ruby in his arms bridal style. “If you stay here any longer, that’s what you’ll do. Come on.”

Jaune glared at the huntsman, but Weiss gave him a pleading look. Her own eyes were filled with tears. His head fell limp in resignation. She guided him to his feet.

Jaune didn’t know what was happening. Everything had gone so wrong. He had begged his mom to come and save Pyrrha, and then she’d chosen _not_ to? And then she’d—

Jaune didn’t know what was happening, but he knew why.

His partner and his mother were gone.

And it was all his fault.


	14. The Summoning of Heroes

_“Come, you clod of mud! My greatest treasure shall send you back to the heavens!”_

_“An impressive display, Son of the Sun God. You have my thanks for ensuring this farce is not a complete waste.”_

_“Why didn’t you figure out how to use it before we made him mad?”_

_“Summer, what did you just do?”_

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****

Ruby’s eyes slowly blinked open. The strange words still ringing in her mind.

She sat up realized she was in a bed. Her bed. In her room back on Patch and even in her own pajamas.

It was a bit unnerving after the chaos of Beacon, but she spotted her dad asleep in a chair next to her and her heart was warmed. Even if her head was still fuzzy. She groaned.

Fortunately, Taiyang’s eyes fluttered awake and her father smiled when he saw her. He rushed over to the bed and assured her everything was fine. With that massive dragon Grimm gone, the huntsmen were able to rally and retake control of Vale. Clearing out the school was taking a bit more time, but Professor Goodwitch was confident that could finish by the start of the next semester.

“What about Yang?” Ruby asked frantically.

“She’s… she’s alive. Her arm got broken in the battle and she hasn’t woken up, but we managed to make a set up for her in her room.” Tai informed her. He smirked. “I don’t think your teammate has left her side since she got here.”

“Teammate? Weiss and Blake are here?” Ruby inquired excitedly.

“Just Blake. Mr. Schnee came and took Weiss back to Atlas after what happened. But if it helps, your other friends are here. Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Sun.”

What? Why just them—

“Pyrrha!” Ruby realized. She stared at her father, begging for what she remembered to be a dream. He shook his head sadly and dashed her hopes. “Why? I got there in time, I got her out of those chains, and then the golden guy and Kirei did something to Cinder and…”

_‘And Pyrrha was tied up.’_

“I killed her,” Ruby muttered blankly. “I cut her out of those chains and then Mrs. Arc had to save me instead of her and—”

“Ruby.” Her dad stopped her, taking her hands in his. “Whatever happened, your friend’s death was not your fault. Gilgamesh doesn’t care about other people and he probably would have let that Kotomine guy kill your friend for fun if you hadn’t shown up.”

That didn’t make Ruby feel any better. She was supposed to save everyone and instead…wait. “How did you know his name?”

Tai paused for a moment. His eyes became clouded. “We, Team STRQ that is, encountered him before.”

“When he killed mom?”

Her father’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“On the tower,” Ruby spoke hesitantly. “Kirei said he executed mom.”

Taiyang fell back into his chair, his eyes vacant.

“Well,” a gravelly voice interjected. “That is an interesting development.”

Uncle Qrow stood in the doorway, strangely standing straight.

Tai whirled around on him, fire blazing in his eyes. “Did you know? Did you know about this Qrow?”

“If I did, don’t you think I would have told you?” Qrow spat back.

“I don’t know.”

Those three words scared Ruby more than a thousand Grimm. Sure, dad and Uncle Qrow didn’t always get along but they were the bestest of friends, right? They were partners, since their days at Beacon?

When did they stop trusting each other?

“Tai,” Qrow began softly. “Can I talk to her? Alone?”

It took some convincing, but her dad agreed to leave them be. Qrow pulled up a seat. “How are you doing?”

Ruby couldn’t believe he’d actually asked that question. But even with everything, he was just trying to help.

“I hurt…everywhere,” she told him. “What were Kirei and Cinder doing on the tower? Who was that Gilgamesh guy?”

“That’s…something that involves your friend Arc,” Qrow informed her. “I’d rather not tell the story twice. But the basic idea is that he’s a different kind of being. More than a human. Like Arturia was.”

Mrs. Arc wasn’t human? That…made a disturbing amount of sense. It explained her overwhelming power and her looking so young. Wait…

“What do you mean ‘was’?”

Qrow closed his eyes, thinking about what he should say. In the end, he settled on, “The night you met Ozpin, what was the first thing he said to you?”

And so, he told of the silver-eyed warriors. Beings older than the kingdoms who could Grimm with a look. How she and her mother were both among their ranks.

It made sense. It explained how she took down the Griffon at Amity Coliseum, and how she’d unintentionally unleashed that power to drive off Gilgamesh.

Which didn’t explain everything.

“If silver eyes only affect Grimm, why did Gilgamesh run away?” she inquired.

“For reasons Oz never told me, the silver eyes are almost as effective against Servants, the kind of beings that Gilgamesh and Arturia are, as they are against Grimm,” Qrow explained. He chuckled. “Your mom did quite a bit with them the last time we encountered the suckers.”

“Okay,” Ruby followed. “So, Gilgamesh got hit by my silver eye blast and he ran away. That’s good, right? It means he didn’t kill Jaune or Weiss or…”

She realized what Uncle Qrow had meant when he’d Arturia ‘was’ a Servant.

“No.”

Tears fell down her eyes.

It didn’t help.

Arturia, Mrs. Arc had saved her life. She had protected her when Gilgamesh tried to impale her for looking like her mother. She’d laughed at parties with her.

And Ruby had killed her.

There was no other way to look at it. She had killed her first friend’s mother.

Jaune…he was going to hate her. And she deserved it.

She hadn’t saved anyone.

She was a monster.

Qrow took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “Gilgamesh would have killed all of us. Besides, you didn’t even know you could do that.”

“But I still did it!” she yelled.

Her vision tinted silver for a moment.

Uncle Qrow backed up warily.

Ruby realized what she was doing and calmed down. She slumped back into her bed.

To think a few days ago she would have thought scaring Uncle Qrow to be her greatest accomplishment. Now it just filled her with remorse.

He came back however, and held onto to her. He brought her right hand up for her to see. On the back of it were three red marks in the shape of a cross. When did those get there?

“It wasn’t your fault,” Qrow assured her. “And if Arturia were here she’d say the same thing. She’d tell you to get back down to business and do what you need to do.”

“Did you really know her that well?”

“Um…no, actually,” he admitted. “But Oz did. I think. He said he trusted her more than anyone else on Remnant. But now they’re both gone. And Remnant is in bigger danger than ever.”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked.

Qrow glanced at the marks on her hand and then ruffled her hair. He stood up from his chair and started to walk away. “Later. Have some down time first. Go see your sister and the emo girl. What you’re about to head into isn’t exactly light stuff.”

Ruby looked down at her marks. What good could she be? What could a monster who kills her friends possibly do?

She could try, maybe.

“Uncle Qrow,” she called. The drunk turned to face her. “I want to help. I want to save everyone.”

He smiled at her. “You will, pipsqueak. Now get some rest.”

 

* * *

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****

Emerald trembled with fear as she entered the dark palace.

She had wanted to run as soon as the landscape had changed to charred volcanic hills and the sky had turned red. Pools of black liquid bubbled constantly in the valleys, broken only as Grimm rose from their murky depths. Spires of crystal shot out of the ground at jagged angles, illuminating everything in a ghastly purple glow.

It was like stepping into another world. And if Hazel hadn’t been by her side the entire time, Emerald would have booked it back to her own.

As it was, the hulking man brought her to a massive black castle. The doors were grand and Beowolves and Creepers freely roamed the halls. Strangely, the beasts didn’t try to attack them. In fact, they all seemed to cower before Hazel.

As if he needed to be scarier.

Candles melted into the walls lit the way to a large room with a single chair of black stone. From what Emerald knew of architecture (Admittedly little, but it paid to know how the places you stole from were designed) it seemed like an atrium where one would receive guests. Or prisoners.

“Hazel.” A man just inside the room called. He was tall, well dressed, and had an elaborate mustache. “Good to see you back. Where is Cinder?”

“Dead,” Hazel responded bluntly. “The King of Heroes and his lapdog got her.”

The other man didn’t seem very torn up about that. He actually smirked.

Emerald was learning to hate smirking men.

“Oh well, so sad. I’ll try not let Tyrian laugh too much when he gets back,” the man said. He turned to Emerald. “And who is this child? Cinder’s replacement? I suppose she could hardly be worse.”

Emerald hands curled into fists. How dare he…

“Enough, Watts,” a powerful voice echoed throughout the room. The mustache man, Watts apparently, instantly stood up straight, his eyes wide with a healthy fear.

From behind Emerald and Hazel, a woman entered the atrium. Or at least she looked like a woman. Her skin was pale white, as was her hair done in a large bun. The whites of her eyes on the other hand… weren’t, instead stained a pure black, with her pupils a piercing red. She didn’t seem to walk, more like she glided across the floor.

The room became colder with the woman’s presence. Under her dark dress, something churned relentlessly. Emerald didn’t think her sanity would survive if she knew what it was.

Watts bowed his head. “My deepest apologies, my lady. I simply do not like having unknown variables in our base of operations.”

“Oh, but Emerald here is not an unknown, are you my dear?” the white woman asked her in a grandmotherly tone. It was utterly terrifying but somehow still soothing. “Cinder spoke of you often in her reports. She had nothing but praise for you.”

Emerald perked up considerably. She knew she should have been on guard around this woman who couldn’t be anyone but the queen Hazel had mentioned, but she couldn’t help herself. “Cinder spoke highly of me?”

Watts broke out laughing. “Oh, hoh hoh hoh, the poor thing seems enamored with our late compatriot.”

The Queen sighed. “She did indeed, in her own way. Cinder was not one to reveal her love in what she said, only what she didn’t say.”

Oh.

That sounded more like Cinder.

Emerald went back to shivering in terror.

The Queen merely chuckled at her fear. “Oh, you must relax dear Emerald. I’m not going to kill you. You are one of the most important people on Remnant. Those Command Seals on your hand are proof of that.”

Emerald looked at her the back of her hand, where the three red marks had formed in a simplified version of her gem emblem. “Your grace, with all due respect, I don’t know what a Command Seal is.”

“I didn’t expect you too, my dear. It’s a legend older than the kingdoms,” the Queen assured her. “But, nonetheless, you have a choice before you. You can claim Cinder’s seat in my inner circle and avenge her death, or you can—”

“I’m in,” Emerald said instantly. She could already imagine stabbing out Kirei’s eyes and then ripping out his brain through his sockets. Then, she’d smirk at the bastard and he wouldn’t he even be able to see it!

Of course, as soon as she came out of her murder fantasy, she realized that she’d interrupted the scary Grimm lady. Watts’ eyes were wide with terror and even Hazel had taken a step back.

She dove down on her knees and groveled at the Queen’s feet. “I’m sorry for interrupting you, my lady. I only wished to—”

“It is fine, my dear,” she informed. “Just make sure you don’t do it again. I speak from experience when I tell you that you should make sure you know all your options. But since you are so eager…”

Emerald could feel the air split as she smiled.

“Let me tell you of the Holy Grail War.”

 

* * *

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****

Ruby smiled as she held Yang’s hand. The medics on the evac shuttle had done a fantastic job keeping her stable and then setting up her room here at the house. Even with the bustle from Mercury’s attack, the worst she had was a broken arm, which was now completely covered in wrappings and a cast. Ruby could have kissed them. At least one of Kirei’s victims would recover.

Though, Ruby wished Yang would recover a lot faster. So much had happened, and her mind didn’t know what to think. She needed her big sister.

“Hey,” Ruby turned to see Sun standing in the doorway, his hand awkwardly raised as if he was afraid to knock and disturb her. Which given that Blake had been the one in her position for the past few days, was fairly likely. “Your Uncle is calling everyone into the living room. Says it’s time to let us in on what’s going on.”

“Right.” Ruby kissed her sister on the forehead. “I love you, Yang.”

She rose and walked out into the hall with Sun. “Thanks for taking care of her, Sun.”

The monkey faunus looked shocked. “Me? I didn’t really do much. Blake was the one who took care of her. She wouldn’t leave the room.”

“And who took care of Blake, when she wouldn’t leave the room to eat or sleep?”

“I just brought the stuff in. Anybody would have done that. Your dad and Ren were the ones who actually made the food.”

Ruby chuckled, her first genuine laugh since she woke up. “You’re a good friend, Sun. Don’t worry, Blake knows you care.”

“What do I know?” Blake asked from her seat on a couch.

They had arrived in the living room. Two couches and a recliner chair surrounded a tv, which was useless until the local network could be brought back online. Her dad was in the recliner with Uncle Qrow standing next to him. Jaune, Ren, and Nora had claimed one of the couches while Blake sat alone on the other.

Ruby averted her eyes when she spotted Jaune, unable to face him after what she’d done. “Nothing.”

She and Sun sat down next to Blake, with her squeezing the two of them together in order to be farther away from Jaune.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” Taiyang said.

“Tai, you sure about this? Only Ruby and Arc need to know.” Qrow reminded him.

“We’re telling them all, Qrow,” Tai insisted. “I know what it’s like to be on the outside of this thing. They need to know.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment until Qrow finally sighed. “Alright.”

Nora raised her hand. “Sooooo, are you guys going to start making out now?”

Everyone did a spit take at that. Tai fell out of his chair and knocked Qrow to the ground. Ruby’s eyebrow started twitching in horror. Blake tried to hide her blush.

Ren facepalmed. “Nora, that’s not what this is about.”

“What? It sounded like they were going to come out about their secret relationship and they wanted to start with just Ruby. You know, because she’s family.”

“And Jaune?”

“I thought they were going to invite to have a threesome to help with…eh…you know. What happ—”

“It’s fine, Nora,” Jaune assured her, clearly lying. “I’m okay.”

Nora cast her eyes downward. She didn’t believe him, but didn’t know how to help.

Qrow and Tai stood back up, both taking a very large step away from the other.

“Right. So, anyway.” Qrow began. “What’s you kids’ favorite fairy tale?”

And so, he told them everything Ozpin had told him. About the maidens and the relics. And Salem.

“We know it’s a lot to take in,” Tai said using his best comforting father voice. “We’ll answer any questions you have.”

“The maidens, was that what Ozpin was trying to do to Pyrrha in that vault? Make her one of them?” Jaune accused.

“We went to her for help,” Qrow replied. “In the end, it didn’t matter. Cinder got to Amber first and took the rest of the power.”

“You said these maidens are nearly unstoppable,” Blake pointed out. “But Ruby told us that Kirei and this Gilgamesh guy defeated her easily. What are they?”

“Kirei is…he’s a mage. A human capable of using magic,” Qrow explained. “Oz told us about them during the last Grail War, but he made it sound like they were all extinct. As for Gilgamesh, he’s something else entirely.”

“A Servant, right?” Ruby asked. “Like Mrs. Arc.”

“Wait, what?” Jaune said. “What do you mean my mom was…a what?”

“A Servant,” Qrow told them. “The spirit of a legendary hero brought forth in the modern day to serve a master in the fight for the Holy Grail.”

“You keep saying that. What the hell is this Holy Grail thing we’re all supposed to be fighting over?” Blake shouted.

“An omnipotent wish granting device.”

…

…

…

…

…

“Bullshit!” Sun declared. “No way something like that exists. If it did, people would go crazy over it.”

“They would,” Qrow conceded. “But the grail doesn’t just let anyone fight for it. For millennia it was dormant, reclusive after the first four wars surrounding it had ended with no true winner. But then, nineteen years ago, someone, probably Gilgamesh and Kirei, killed the Summer Maiden and burnt out her power to jumpstart the thing.”

“And they helped Cinder get the Fall Maiden’s so that they could do the same to her” Ren concluded.

“Now you’re catching on.” Qrow complimented. “For each war, the grail chooses seven masters to compete for it, and grants each of them three Command Seals to control the Servant they summon.” He snorted. “Sometimes that still isn’t enough.”

Ruby and Jaune stared at the red marks on their hands. Could they really bind a hero?

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Blake noted.

Qrow nodded. “In the Fifth War, the one nineteen years ago, me, Summer, and Raven, Ruby and Yang’s moms, were chosen as masters. Ozpin saw the Command Seals and called us up to his office to explain everything.”

“And you guys didn’t tell me about any of it until that Saber nearly killed us,” Tai reminded him.

“I said I was sorry, and we’re telling the kids. What more do you want?”

“Saber,” Ruby muttered. “That was what Gilgamesh called Arturia. Did she—”

“No,” Taiyang said immediately, spotting Jaune about to jump up in fury. “She wasn’t there.”

“Saber is one of the classes of Servant,” Qrow explained. “There’s one for each master, and since a hero’s name reveals their identity, and weaknesses, most masters just refer to them that way. Mrs. Arc was the Saber of the Fourth War, just like good old goldie was the Archer.”

“I thought you said the first four wars happened a really long time ago” Nora pointed out.

Qrow looked away from them, lost in thought. “They did. Oz never mentioned how those two were here now.”

“Sounds like Ozpin didn’t mention a lot of things,” Jaune sneered. He stood up. “How do you expect us to even believe all of this?”

“Did you have those tattoos before the Fall?”

“No, but _this_ ,” he gestured wildly around him. “All of this is insane. You’re saying that Ruby and I have to summon the spirits of legendary heroes, one of whom you’re claiming was my mom, so we can fight five other people to the death for some cup that supposedly grants wishes.”

“You’re not wrong,” Qrow conceded. “It is insane. It just also happens to be true.”

“How would they even summon these Servants anyway,” Blake asked, the literary fanatic in her trying to figure out the rules. “Aside from the maidens and Kirei, no one on Remnant can use magic anymore.”

“The grail does most of the work,” Tai explained. “A catalyst connected to a Servant can draw them out specifically, but for the most part we just set up the summoning circles, Ruby and Jaune do a chant and then, poof. Heroic Spirit.”

“Not to judge or anything,” Nora said carefully. “You have been feeding us for the last few days and everything, but doesn’t sending your daughter off into a battle royale to the death sound just a bit like bad parenting?”

Tai sighed and buried his head in his hands. Ruby hadn’t seen him like that since one of his worse episodes after mom died.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But regular people, even huntsmen, can’t really do anything against Servants. If I keep her here, I’ll just get in the way when her enemies show up looking for her.”

“Glad to see you’ve come around to my argument,” Qrow nudged him.

Tai didn’t smile.

“I still don’t believe this,” Jaune declared.

“Our enemies don’t care if you believe it, kid,” Qrow told him bluntly. “You’re a master, which means you’re a prime target until you summon a Servant to protect you. So how about you do the damn ritual, and then if you’re still not satisfied, you can tell us how we’re a bunch of poopy heads.”

“Qrow,” Taiyang stated. “That’s enough.” He turned to Jaune, his face softer, more reconciling. “I know firsthand how hard all of this can be to believe, even with what you’ve seen. But you can’t say that your mother never seemed mysterious, more powerful than she should have been. Servants are souls stuffed into mystical vessels, so they can’t have aura since the power’s already out. Could she have done the things you’ve seen without it?”

Jaune didn’t have an answer and looked down at his feet. Ruby got up to comfort him but stopped when she remembered why he couldn’t ask Arturia himself.

Tai sighed. He stood up and put a fatherly hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “Just say the words. What’s coming isn’t going to be easy, but neither you or Ruby are going to be in it alone.”

Jaune looked the older blonde in the eye. He held his stare for a few moments and then nodded.

Ruby could only think about what was said. She and Jaune were going to summon heroes. Real heroes from the stories and legends she grew up with. Part of her wanted to squee like she had just gotten Crescent Rose a new paint job.

The other part remembered the exhibition match against Arturia. It remembered Gilgamesh on the tower. They were giants, capable of swatting her like a fly. And even if she and Jaune had a pair of their own to help, two against five was not great odds.

But the prize. This Holy Grail. If it really could do anything, then maybe it could bring back the dead.

She could save Pyrrha and Arturia and Penny and…

Everyone.

She looked over to Jaune, her friend who had lost so much because of her failures.

_‘I’m going to make it up to you, Jaune. I’m going to save everyone.’_

* * *

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****

Raven eyed the circle of blood warily as Vernal finished making the modifications she’d requested.

“Okay,” the young maiden exclaimed. “Now that that’s done with mind explaining why you just had me do that?”

“To maintain a Servant in this world requires a substantial amount of _prana_ , or in our case aura. The Berserker I have already is taxing enough. If I were to get another excessively draining one, it could leave me incapacitated for the duration of the war.”

“Making you easy pickings for the others.”

Raven nodded. “Aura is a finite resource for anyone. But a maiden’s power, on the other hand, is near limitless, and would hardly notice the strain of a Heroic Spirit. Unfortunately, I obtained my powers after I summoned mine.”

“So, these changes to the summoning will make it so your magic will foot the bill for the new guy, instead of your aura,” Vernal smiled.

“And our black armored friend if we’re lucky,” Raven told her. She’d been studying the grail system for years, despite her desire to forget. Her efforts to remain hidden from Gilgamesh required that she know something however and once she got into it the whole thing was simply too fascinating to stop.

There was so much power in it. She couldn’t not try to learn how to wield it.

She couldn’t be caught off guard like last time.

The bandit leader shook her head. Such memories were better left in the past. She looked to her hand and then to Vernal. “Well. Shall we?”

 

* * *

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****

Adam stood proud as the Bullhead flew into his camp. A lone, lithe figure jumped out while the craft was still in the air.

“I trust you had a pleasant trip,” he called out to the girl.

Ilia smiled and removed her mask. Her skin was dark brown with white spots today. “Eh. I was hoping for an inflight movie, but I guess they couldn’t get one on the short notice.”

Adam grinned happily, a rare sight in this day. He walked over and embraced his old friend. “It’s been too long, Ilia.”

“You’re the one who shipped me off to help the Fox twins,” she reminded him jokingly.

He cringed at that. Sending Ilia to Menagerie had been a favor to Blake, who’d been worried that Ilia was getting too reckless. Adam hadn’t seen the problem, but in hindsight, it seemed clear that Blake had wanted their friend closer to her parents. Perhaps she’d hoped they would infect her with their foolish philosophy.

He curled his fist at the thought of another betrayal. How could she have been doing this to him even back then? It made his blood boil.

He took a deep breath. There would be time for anger later. For now, he needed to acquire his proof so that he could get Blake back.

Ilia noticed his discomfort. She pouted softly. “I’m sorry to hear about Blake. I never thought she would betray us.”

Adam sighed. “She had her reasons. She doesn’t realize her dream is impossible.”

“Exactly,” Ilia concurred. “The humans will never see us as equals.”

“Oh, they will.” Ilia raised an eyebrow in confusion. Adam smirked. “Come with me.”

He led her through the crimson forest of Forever Fall to a large clearing. In the center was an elaborate sigil of blood.

“Okay, I know what the humans call us, but you do remember we’re not a cult, right?”

Adam shook his head and walked towards the circle. “Blake’s dream is impossible. She abandoned us because we could understand that while she couldn’t. But now, things have changed. And the impossible is possible.”

_‘And I can get everything that I want.’_

“You’re not making any sense,” Ilia told him.

Adam raised his right hand and removed his glove. “Just watch.”

 

* * *

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****

Jaune followed Qrow down the rotting wooden stairs to the cabin’s basement, Nora and Ren right behind him.

Qrow flicked a switch, and the few lights in the room came on, dimly illuminating several shelves filled with forgotten cardboard boxes. Each one had a name like ‘Photo Albums’, ‘Summer’s Stuff’, or ‘Raven’s Weapons, Touch and I will Castrate you, Qrow!’

Jaune blanched when saw what was on the floor. For a moment, he saw Pyrrha. Bloody and broken on the courtyard pavement.

Then reality came back to him and it was just some sigil.

“Is that blood?” Ren inquired warily.

“Chicken,” Qrow replied. “I picked it up from the butchers after Ruby woke up.”

“Awesome!” Nora screeched. She ran over to the boxes, rapidly opening each one. “Is the extra in one of these?”

“NO!” Qrow shouted, frantically dragging Nora away from ‘Summer’s Stuff’. “There is no extra. Especially not in there. All of it went into making this thing, and the one Ruby’s using out in the forest.”

“Why couldn’t they just use the same one?” Ren asked.

“Wear out the juju, kid,” Qrow told him. He tilted his head to the side. “Maybe. Probably. This stuff is weird, and things can go from very good to very bad very quickly. It’s best not to take chances.”

Nora huffed. “Magic. So overrated.”

Jaune took another look at his Command Seals. They seemed too simple to be as powerful as Qrow described.

Yet, so had his mom. And apparently, she had secretly been some ancient hero, which made all her speeches when she’d told him not to be a hero make way more sense. It’s just that her definition of a hero was someone who got summoned back from the dead to fight over a beer mug. Which just made it make even more sense.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he believed everything Qrow and Taiyang had said. He didn’t even know why, but when they had explained it, something within him had just said, _‘yup, that’s how it works. Time to kill for the cup.’_

It was really disconcerting.

But, it also gave him hope.

He turned to Qrow. “You mentioned using a catalyst can call a specific Servant. What does that mean?”

Qrow scratched his head. “Nothing much really. Oz said that you could improve your odds of getting a certain hero if you include a relic that’s connected to them or their legend. Obviously, most of these stories are so ancient that finding one is nearly impossible.”

“Could a person be a catalyst?”

Qrow stared at Jaune. For once, his eyes were soft on the boy. “I know what you’re thinking kid, and I wish I could tell you one way or the other. But I’ve never seen _anyone_ use a catalyst. I have no idea if you’ll be able to use yourself as an anchor to haul out your mom.”

Jaune frowned. That was not the answer he was hoping for.

He had to summon his mother. He’d gotten her killed. He couldn’t face his family again. They would hate him, and he would deserve it.

But if he could bring her back, everything would be fine. They could fight the war together, they could win, and then…

And then he could bring back Pyrrha.

If this grail could do anything, then surely it could save his partner.

But if he didn’t get his mother, then he didn’t know what he’d do.

He felt something on his shoulder. He turned to see Ren grasping him with a smile on his face. Nora swooped in with a calm smile and gave him a soft hug.

Jaune smiled. He did know what he’d do. He’d win. He was Jaune Arc. He was the leader of Team JNPR.

Like Ruby said that night in the hallway, he wasn’t allowed to fail.

He’d find a way.

“So, how’s that chant go?”

****

* * *

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****

Kirei didn’t know why, but the summoning ritual always made him feel so elated.

It was an important moment, one of the most crucial in any grail war, but there were others that exceeded it in value. Yet, it was this one that compelled him to put on his best combat robe and store all his best weapons, including Kiritsugu’s Contender, on his person.

Perhaps the fear of calling forth a being who could easily kill him, proving so paradoxically appetizing that he relished it even from himself.

How quaint.

Gilgamesh was resting in his room, still recovering from his injuries, so Kirei was alone for the rite.

That was fine. He didn’t want whatever Servant he summoned feeling inadequate next to the King of Heroes. Inferiority complexes were fun to play with, but not the best qualities to have in a pawn you planned to send into battle.

The priest grinned and raised his hand over the sigil. “ **Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Repeat five times, but when each is filled, destroy it.”**

* * *

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****

**“For the elements silver and iron, the foundation of stone and the archduke of pacts, and for my great master Schweinorg.”**

_‘I really hope I pronounced that right,’_ Emerald thought. She briefly looked to Salem, but the Queen merely smiled and nodded her head for Emerald to continue.

She took a deep breath and did just that, her hand over the sigil of human blood closing into a fist.

**“Raise a wall against the wind and close the gate of four directions. Come forth from the crown and follow the forked road leading to the kingdom.”**

* * *

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****

**“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.”**

The sigil before Adam began to glow with a white light. He heard Ilia take a step back in shock. He smiled.

_‘Now it begins.”_

**“If you heed the grail’s call, and obey _my_ will and reason, then answer my summoning!”**

* * *

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****

**“I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.”**

Storm winds bombarded the forests of Patch as Ruby spoke the words with unrivaled conviction. She would be a hero that would save everyone.

Blake and Sun hid in the trees from the gales, but their eyes were glued to the wonder before them.

Taiyang could only look on in grim anticipation.

**“And I shall defeat, all evil in the world!”**

* * *

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****

**“And let thine eyes be clouded with the fog of turmoil and chaos. Thou, you art trapped in a cage of madness.”**

Raven howled against the storm as Vernal desperately tried to maintain the special link to the ritual.

Next to them both, an armored figure obscured in black fog roared in agony.

**“And I the summoner, who holds thy chains!”**

* * *

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****

**“Seventh Heaven clad in the great words of power, come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!”**

Jaune shouted the final words and the ritual reached its climax.

 

* * *

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****

Across Remnant, six masters were engulfed in light. When it faded, they beheld their destiny.

 

* * *

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****

Raven fell to her knees. Something had changed.

She looked around. Vernal had backed up behind her, her lieutenant’s eyes wide at the sigil. But that was not surprising.

What was, was that her black armored Berserker was also cowering before the new summon.

_‘So that’s what it is, I can hear myself think.’_

Living with her Servant’s Mad Enchantment constantly affecting her mind had forced her to make some difficult decisions over the years. She’d have to thank her new familiar for shutting her great pain up, at least for a little while.

_‘Still, what could make the great Sir Lancelot cower in fear through his madness.’_

She looked up upon her new Berserker and quickly realized that she’d failed miserably. She could never look _upon_ this Servant. He was too huge.

He stood eight feet tall and probably four feet wide. His body roiled with rippling, powerful muscle. His brown hair fell back in a long greasy matt. His hands were large enough to pick Raven up in one go and throw her like a discus.

The bandit leader smirked. She’d probably regret this once the behemoth’s own Mad Enchantment kicked in, but for now.

Raven Branwen was pleased.

 

* * *

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****

Adam Taurus was not.

He hadn’t been expecting much from the Servant he summoned and for the most part, he was not disappointed.

The man kneeling before him was strong. Just by looking at him, Adam knew he would be fast. He wore dark green leather armor without sleeves. His arms were covered in long black fingerless gloves. In his right hand was a long red spear, while in his left he held a shorter golden one.

He had a mole beneath his right eye.

Ilia came up to Adam. “What is this?”

_‘A mistake.’_

The man in the circle rose to his feet. He was shorter than Adam, but not by much. The man bowed deeply. “Greetings, my noble master. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First of the Knights of Fianna has answered your summons.”

Adam gnashed his teeth in rage. His Servant seemed fine. In fact, if the comprehension of his abilities given to Adam as his master was true, then he was a good deal greater than fine. There was just one problem.

He was human.

_‘The next time I see that priest, I’m going to kill him.’_

* * *

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****

Kirei staggered backward. His face was wide with shock.

His Servant knelt before him. He hadn’t even revealed the face that was hidden underneath his red cloak and hood.

But Kirei knew. His semblance gave him understanding, and he understood who he had summoned the moment he laid eyes upon him.

“How?” he whispered breathily. “How can it be you?”

 

* * *

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****

Emerald was expecting more.

With the big speech and the light show, she’d expected to have summoned some ancient horrible monster or otherworldly demon like her new mistress.

Instead, she got a small lady in a purple cloak.

Nonetheless, Salem smiled.

“A Caster. Well done, Emerald. She will do nicely.”

Emerald’s chest puffed with pride at the Queen’s praise, but it also made her look at her new Servant more carefully.

After all, what kind of witch had the approval of the Mother of Grimm?

 

* * *

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****

Ruby gazed up at the man before her.

He was tall, with white hair and tan skin. He wore black body armor covered by a combination of a red jacket and skirt.

He opened his eyes and she saw they were silver like hers.

_‘Is he a silver-eyed warrior of the past? Does that mean…he can teach me?’_

The man looked at her and for a moment, she was sure he was confused. But immediately after, it was gone and in its place, was a charming smile.

Ruby had learned the hard way that every smile was not the same, but she could forgive this guy’s reaction. Really, it wasn’t like coming back from the dead was a walk in the park for anyone.

_‘I wonder how Jaune’s went.’_

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****

Jaune stared at the knight in awe.

That was all he could think to describe the figure before him as, a knight. Their armor was gleaming, pristine red and grey steel. They stood tall and proud, their face hidden by a helmet with two outgoing spikes. In their hands, a mighty longsword was planted point down in the ground.

_‘Did I do it?’_

He dared to hope. Gilgamesh had called his mother the King of Knights. And this person certainly fit the bill.

Nora was drooling over the knight’s sword. “I want that” she whimpered.

“You cannot have it, knave” the figure declared in a familiar voice.

Jaune’s hopes skyrocketed. He’d done it! He’d saved her!

The figure’s helmet collapsed into the rest of their armor and Jaune saw the face he longed to see.

“Well, I’ll be damned” Qrow whispered.

The knight smirked cockily in a way that part of Jaune’s mind told him wasn’t right, but he wasn’t listening.

“So, tell me, boy, are you worthy to be my master!”

A single tear fell down Jaune’s eye.

“Mommy?”

The face of his mother suddenly scowled and Jaune knew that he had failed.

His heart broke. His spirit crumpled.

And then he got punched in the face.

“You dare call me a woman!”


	15. Greetings

Weiss sighed as she exited her father’s office.

Things had been distressing since she’d returned from Beacon. Though Whitley’s disposition seemed to have improved since she’d last seen him and Klein was as wonderful as ever, her father was even more prone to rages. He rambled on about how he had warned against going to Beacon and that she was lucky he’d come to get her when he did.

Never mind that she hadn’t wanted to leave Vale when he’d arrived. She and the others had secured themselves at Ruby and Yang’s house on Patch, but both girls were still asleep when Weiss had left. She didn’t even know if Ruby had survived the aftermath of…

Well, whatever had happened at the tower.

Suffice to say, she did not appreciate her father dragging her back home when half her team was still unconscious.

Still, she was home now and at home, father’s word was law. General Ironwood was the only one she’d ever seen talk back to him in the Schnee Mansion and he was the most powerful man in Atlas.

Her conversation with father following their argument was not as unpleasant as she’d feared. He’d informed her of the charity gala he was throwing to support the survivors of the Fall of Beacon (which wasn’t at all a PR stunt) and _suggested_ that she perform at the event.

She told him she’d start practicing in order to avoid any unpleasantness.

Klein met her outside with a smile on his face and a tray in his hand. “Hot coffee, Ms. Schnee? I find he keeps his study dreadfully cold.”

Weiss smiled lightly and drank the offered beverage. “Thank you, Klein.”

The loyal butler gave her a warm grin that honestly helped more than the coffee. It was good to know she hadn’t left all her friends behind in Vale.

“As much as I would love to suggest you rest up for the day Ms. Schnee…” Klein said “…your mother has requested to speak with you in the gardens. Should I tell her you are feeling under the weather?”

Weiss raised an eyebrow. Mother wanted to speak with her? Mother wanted to interact with another human being?

“No, that’s unnecessary Klein,” she replied. “I haven’t seen her since I returned. It would be impolite to keep her waiting.”

Plus, she probably wouldn’t get another invitation.

Klein nodded and the two made their way down to the gardens.

The greenery was beautiful and diverse, despite Atlas’ frigid climate. Dust powered temperature regulators ensured that Mistralian Cherry Trees bloomed right next to Vacuo Cacti.

Weiss would have considered it an inspiring sight had it not been for what the forest harbored.

In the center of the foliage was a small silver sun table surrounded by three chairs. In one of those chairs sat a middle-aged woman in a white bathrobe. She had a half-full bottle of Menagerie White on her lips.

General Ironwood stood before, his face contorted in irritation at the woman. “Crystal, I don’t think you understand the urgent need for this project. You are the only one who can give P-2 the power she needs to protect us all.”

Crystal dropped the bottle from her mouth and slumped back in her seat. “She? Getting a little too attached to your newest tin can, aren’t you Jimmy darling? Not your wisest decision, given how the last one went.”

Weiss lowered her head at her mother’s cruelty.

The General tightened his fists. “You felt what happened during the Fall of Beacon. We’ve lost another relic to her and to make matters worse the war has begun anew. We need—”

“To sit back and let the masters kill each other? I couldn’t agree more, darling. Unless you’ve gotten lucky and one of your little soldiers has shown dear father’s Command Seals,” Crystal interjected. Ironwood did not respond. “No. Then, your little project won’t do a damn thing. The grail is not something to be trifled with. Let the fools who try to claim it die for their stupidity.”

She took another slog from her bottle until the drink ran empty. She kept it in her mouth for a few seconds but then shrugged and flung it at the general, who offhandedly caught it and gently placed it on the ground.

Crystal swayed her head and noticed Weiss. She smiled. “Weiss darling, perfect timing. The general was just leaving.”

The general’s furrowed eyebrows betrayed that he was not at all finished, but he, in the end, he just sighed. “We’ll talk about this another time, Crystal.” He nodded to Weiss. “Ms. Schnee.”

The goodbye didn’t need to be extended from their exchange in her father’s office, so Weiss simply returned his courtesy and the general took his leave.

She pitied the poor man. She had a hard enough time dealing with one of her parents alone and he had had to speak with them both in the same day. Of course, she saved some of that pity for herself as she was about to replicate his feat.

Her mother motioned her over to have a seat. “Yes, yes, lovely to see you, my darling little snowflake. Klein darling, could you be a dear and please fetch me a Mistralian Red from the cellar?”

Klein bowed and picked up the empty bottle on the ground before reluctantly heading off. Weiss couldn’t blame him. Though she vastly preferred her mother over her father, her drinking was easily her greatest flaw.

Her mother looked like she expected Winter would in a decade or two. Her beauty was still magnificent despite a few wrinkles here and there, and her hair, despite being clearly ill kept, was still the shade of snow. But Weiss found that her eyes, while icy blue like all their family, simply could not focus as they used to. She had glared so much at her husband that the ice beneath them finally gave out and resigned themselves to melt in alcohol.

Weiss forced a smile onto her face and took the seat opposite Crystal. “How have you been, mother? I do apologize that we’ve not had the chance to speak since—”

“Weiss darling, please. I get enough false curtsy from your father and dear Jimmy, I’d prefer if I didn’t have to hear it from you.”

“My apologies—”

“What did I just say?” her mother shouted. Weiss held herself stiff. Her mother’s outbursts were less common than her father’s and never as malicious but there were often unpredictable when they occurred. One time she had shattered the family’s entire supply of silverware. Another she had ordered the front gate dismantled and then immediately rebuilt. Once, Weiss even saw literal storm clouds gather the moment her rage began.

Fortunately, that did not happen this time and her mother sank back into her seat. “Please don’t speak formally, darling. Your father does it because he doesn’t care, and Ironwood can’t seem to reconcile that I’m not mine’s second coming. Men have failed me, Weiss. I cannot survive if my happy little snowflake follows them into disappointment.”

Weiss nodded glumly. “Of course.”

“Good.” Her mother leaned forward across the table. “Now then darling, how was your time at school? Did you make any new friends? Any nice boys?”

“Well,” Weiss stuttered. “My team was fantastic. It was me, Yang, Blake, and Ruby. Yang was bombastic but there was no one better to have your back. Blake could be withdrawn at times, but she cared about others more than anyone I’ve ever met. And Ruby…”

A soft smile graced her lips. At home, she’d had to deal with her mother and father. As their relationship had deteriorated and each one had gotten worse, she had turned to Winter for protection. But in time, Winter had had to follow her own path and she was left with only Klein, who despite his best efforts could only do so much.

At Beacon though, despite the early hiccups, she had never felt unwanted. Team RWBY was never cruel or cold even when they mocked her. They always wanted to be having as much fun as possible and they were unwilling to let her sit out when they did. Ruby in particular, with her unrelenting efforts of friendship, had made the world seem so much brighter. “She was a dolt, but I don’t think I could have wished for a better partner.”

“Hmm,” Weiss looked to see her mother wiggling her eyebrows. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be asking if you met any nice boys?”

Weiss tilted her head in confusion. What in the world was that about? “I met plenty of boys at Beacon. There was Neptune, Ren, Sun, Jaune—”

She stopped at the last name.

Images of Pyrrha flooded her mind. She couldn’t forget the sickening _thud_ that had sounded when the Invincible Girl had hit the ground.

Then, Arturia. Frozen like a silver statue, before fading to dust, as if she was never even there. Weiss still didn’t understand how that had even happened.

Finally, the boy who had once tried so desperately to woo her crying over his mother and partner. And she had made him abandon them. It was the only choice at the time. They were in the middle of a battlefield, Ruby was unconscious, and she and Qrow were almost out of aura.

It had been the only choice. But Weiss was still trying to convince herself it had been the right one.

Tears welled in her eyes.

A slight hand wiped them away.

Weiss looked up to see her mother with a sullen look on her face. “You received your first taste of true war, my darling. It is not a thing anyone is ever truly ready for. Though I doubt we have seen the last of it for the foreseeable future.”

“What do you mean?” Weiss asked.

Crystal leaned back in her chair and flashed a morose grin. “You felt the shockwave? During the Fall?”

Weiss’ eyes widened. She had been floored by a massive burst of…something that shot through her during the battle. It had been right before everything at the tower had gone so wrong, and she had been too discombobulated by the blast to notice Pyrrha falling until it was too late.

“Yes,” she confirmed hesitantly.

Her mother nodded. “I did as well. Indeed, I believe everyone on Remnant felt that pulse, though there are few who will recognize its true significance.”

“Which is?”

Crystal’s eyes fell below Weiss’ face. She narrowed them as if attempting to see through her wine haze. “It means be grateful that your hands remain unblemished, my darling. Your grandfather wasn’t nearly so lucky.”

She leaned her head over the back of her seat. “Where is Klein with that damn red?”

Weiss wasn’t paying attention to the outburst. Her mother never talked about her grandfather. Everything Weiss knew about the man had come from history books or Winter’s few memories of him. They all painted a kind portrait.

How had the shockwave led to his death?

For that matter, how had her mother felt the blast from Atlas?

Klein soon returned with the wine and Crystal was deep in the drink, but Weiss was too worried to care. Home was treacherous enough as it was, but now she thought that something was seriously wrong.

****

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Archer knew something was wrong the moment he accepted the summoning.

It started with the knowledge the Grail gave him. Huntsmen? Aura? Grimm? What the hell was he getting dropped into?

When he materialized, he knew this was not his Grail War. For one, he hadn’t crashed into Rin’s furniture. The other was the soft breeze he felt across his skin, carrying the smell of a forest. He wasn’t in Tohsaka Manor.

Perhaps he had been summoned to the Fourth War. During one of his visits to the Clocktower, Lord El-Melloi II had told him of how he’d called upon his liege Rider in one of Fuyuki’s many forests. If he had replaced the King of Conquerors, Archer couldn’t say he would mind working with Waver Velvet.

He opened his eyes and saw a girl who looked very much like Little Red Riding Hood. Her silver eyes stared up at him in awe.

_‘Okay, not Waver and definitely not Rin. Who the hell is this kid and where am I?’_

The fact that he had to question that was highly disturbing. Whenever he was summoned as a Counter Guardian, he could feel Alaya’s presence in the air, feeding him power and directing him towards the best people to kill. He didn’t know if it would be the same when he was summoned as a Heroic Spirit, but there should still be something.

Instead, there was nothing. Not even a breath of the Beast of Humanity.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Still, his master was proof enough that humanity wasn’t extinct, so the situation wasn’t completely hopeless.

He smirked. Time to meet the new _prana_ battery.

“Woah,” Little Red whispered. “Are you a hero?”

That question was at once childishly simple and unendingly aggravating to Archer. Any mage who knew to ask the question should also know that the only possible answer was yes. The only thing that could be called upon with the grail’s ritual was a hero, even if some of them were so brutal they didn’t deserve the title.

He counted himself among that number.

He glanced at the area around him. The summoning circle seemed to have been made properly.  So, if the girl was capable of that, why was she unsure of her success? Did she think so poorly of herself that she believed that she could mess up a ritual that really only required a short aria and a bit of _prana_.

 _Hmph_. If she had that much self-doubt, Archer would enjoy pushing her buttons as he had planned for Rin.

“Really? That’s the first words out of your mouth?” he chuckled. “Well, well, well, looks like I was summoned by quite the master.”

Surprisingly, the little girl’s smile grew twice as large. “You really mean that?”

Archer raised an eyebrow. Was his sarcasm not clear enough? “Indeed. It takes a special kind of fool—”

The girl suddenly disappeared in a cloud of rose petals. Archer’s enhanced vision was able to see her rush into the nearby trees and grab another girl with long black hair. The troubling part was that during that burst, the girl moved as fast as a low ranked servant. Very few had the magecraft to accomplish such a feat, especially at a moment’s notice. Perhaps he had judged this girl too quickly.

A moment later she had returned with her friend. “Blake, he says I’m quite the master! An ancient hero called me ‘quite’!”

The other girl, Blake, looked him over with wide amber eyes. She blushed. He still didn’t understand why women always seemed to do that around him. “That’s really nice, Ruby.”

Ruby. So that was his master’s name. He’d known her for less than a minute and he knew that she was excitable, childish, and most importantly, sarcasm-blind.

She would either be the most fun he’d had in eons or she’d be the death of him.

Archer gave the girls a formal bow. “Servant Archer, master.”

Ruby blushed and grabbed the hem of her skirt. “Oh, stop it, you don’t have to call me master. I’m just plain old Ruby.”

Archer rose and smirked. “As you wish, master.”

“That’s not…oh, nevermind.” Ruby rubbed the back of her head. She waved at something behind him. “Dad! Sun! Come meet Archer! That’s one of the classes, right?”

This kid didn’t even know the classes. Was he stuck with some alternate universe version of his old self? That would suck. He’d have to deal with all the naïve idealism and wouldn’t even be able to erase himself from existence by killing her.

Two men came over, both blondes, one of them much older than the other. The younger had an open shirt and… a monkey tail?

…

Right, faunus. That would take some getting used to.

The older blonde, according to the shouts, the girl’s father, scratched his chin as he examined Archer. “That’s one of them, alright. Only an Archer could be that pretty.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “Robin Hood?”

The man nodded.

“Makes sense,” Archer conceded. “The Prince of Thieves loves his charm.”

“Prince of Thieves?” Blake inquired. “How can a thief be a hero?”

“Hey,” The monkey boy said. “We thieves can be a very heroic bunch.”

Archer couldn’t really argue with that. In a way, his Reality Marble was one big way to steal the legends of others.

His master started bursting around him, examining every inch of his body. She lifted up his cape and then leapt onto his shoulders. “So, who are you? Are you somebody with a famous weapon? Where is it? Ooohh, is it invisible?”

On the outside, Archer did not react. On the inside, he was missing Rin.

Ruby down from him and grabbed something off her belt. That something, extended into a huge crimson scythe.

_Crescent Rose. Combination scythe and high impact sniper rifle. Built by Ruby *%#$@. Wielded by Ruby %$@%%._

Archer shook his head to get rid of the static. The structural analysis went near perfectly. While he wouldn’t be able to create the gun component of the weapon due to it being incompatible with his Origin, he could trace the scythe just fine. It was only when he got to Ruby’s experience that things became fuzzy.

_‘Strange. Perhaps there’s more to my new master than meets the eye.’_

Not that he could meet her eye. Every time he tried, his instincts screamed for him to run away. Said instincts were usually right but with the Command Seals on her hand, he didn’t have that option. He would have to learn more as he went along.

“Don’t overwhelm the guy, Ruby,” her father advised. “Let’s get back to the house and meet up with Qrow and the others. See how Jaune’s summoning went.”

 Ruby nodded and the group departed for a nearby cottage.

They arrived and the large blonde man opened a door that Ruby zipped down, her feet barely even touching the decaying stairwell.

“Jaune! I got the Archer—”

Ruby’s voice died in her throat. Archer came to the middle of the stairs.

In the cluttered basement was a scruffy looking man with a giant sword on his back.

_Harbinger. Combination greatsword, shotgun, and scythe. Built by Qrow Branwen. Wielded by Qrow Branwen._

Who the hell named their kid Qrow?

A muscular girl with orange hair and a boy with pink eyes stood to the side. Ruby was next to them.

They were all staring at a blonde boy in a sweater rubbing his face while a woman in armor menacingly stood over him.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that was the Servant.

Archer silently traced Kanshou and Bakuya. The Servant was distracted. If he could remove as powerful a threat as this one seemed to be this early in the war, it would make his life so much easier. He gathered his strength in his legs to make a mighty leap…

And subsequently plummeted to the floor as the rotting stairs gave out from under him.

He landed face first and his projections cluttered to the floor. All eyes in the room turned to him.

The woman in armor glared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. She smacked the boy she had terrorizing on the back. “Look at that idiot, master! I didn’t know this grail war had a Jester class!”

The boy was too busy trying not to join Archer on the floor to comment.

“What’d you do to get into the throne, jester?” the woman taunted. “Were you some court fool who slipped on the battlements onto an assassin? Hahaha!”

“Ha!” the orange-haired girl joined in the laughter. “Slipped on the battlements. Jaune got the best Servant.”

“She punched him the face, Nora.”

“Details, Ren. Details.”

Archer trudged up to his knees when he heard a gasp. He saw his master hovering over Kanshou and Bakuya with stars in her eyes. “Are these your weapons? They’re so beautiful! Can I have them? Please, please, please!”

Archer sighed and smacked his face into his hand. This was not how he had planned this day. For centuries, he had been precisely mapping out in his head exactly what he would do once Rin called upon him and how he would ensure his victory in the Fifth Holy Grail War. And all his plans were out the window.

The man with the greatsword, Qrow Branwen, came over and patted him on the back. “E Rank Luck?”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Experience,” he explained without really explaining. “I’ll be getting out of your hair now. Bring the kiddies upstairs when they’ve calmed down.”

He jumped up the now stairless stairwell and disappeared back to the upper level.

Archer looked around the basement. The pink-eyed boy was helping the blonde master to his feet. The Servant, Archer noted, looked exactly like his Saber, but given Jeanne D’Arc, Nero, and the dozens of other Servants he had encountered who for some reason were practically clones of the King of Knights, this didn’t really surprise him. She herself was now leaning on the Nora girl as they both tried to recover from their laughter.

And his master was asking him if she could summon the person who made Kanshou and Bakuya, because obviously, the person who made such awesome swords was a hero, to make modifications to Crescent Rose.

Archer wanted to hit the floor again.

 

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****

Mordred was excited.

Her first Holy Grail War! She would be able to battle heroes from across history, best them all as she obviously would, and claim her wish from the grail. And as the cherry on top, she would go on to the sword of selection and finally prove to her father that she was meant to be king.

The only thing better would be if he had been summoned to the war as well. Then she could prove her superiority once and for all. Camlann was a fluke!

Of course, then her idiot of a master had to go insinuate her weakness by calling her his mother. Her! How dare he refer to her as a woman!

He had been lucky she’d held back or else she would have shattered his skull. She doubted this mysterious ‘aura’ could stop a blow from _her_.

The boy had trembled on the ground as Mordred had towered over him. Then that fool of an Archer had arrived and tripped over his feet or something. That alleviated her fury for the time being, especially since the orange haired girl had been wise enough to see the mirth in her jest.

Maybe she could get her to take the blonde boy’s command seals and be her new master.

She recollected herself as a pink-eyed boy helped her master to his feet. She gave him a stern, kingly, look as the other blonde cleared his throat.

“So,” he began. “Sorry about that. You just look a lot like…you know never mind. I’m Jaune, this is Ren and Ruby, Nora is right next to you. No idea who that silver-haired guy is. Who are you?”

The knight stood up straight. She must look proper as she announced herself. “You may call me Mordred. In this war for the Holy Grail, I am of the Saber class. Be honored boy, for you stand before the one true heir of Arthur Pendragon!”

The Archer on the floor chuckled.

Mordred let it pass. His opinion wasn’t important. She could execute him later.

“Hey, that’s a coincidence,” Nora remarked. “Jaune’s mom was named Arturia Pendragon.”

Mordred sneered. “It takes more than a name, sparky. My father is the King of Knights.”

Ruby suddenly stopped where she was chatting away at Archer. Something about plotting to summon additional Servants for the war. Like it would matter. She’d destroy anyone who got in her way.

The red cloaked girl turned to Jaune, a haunted look in her eye. “King of Knights. That’s what Gilgamesh called your mom on at the tower. Could that mean…”

“Maybe,” Jaune conceded. “When I was little, mom used to tell me stories about this righteous band of warriors, The Knights of the Round Table. I think she mentioned the name Mordred once or twice. If she was a Heroic Spirit, and those stories were from her past…”

Mordred ceased this foolishness by grabbing Jaune by the throat and slamming him into the wall. She gave him a hard glare as he struggled to breathe.

“Listen well, boy,” she hissed. “I am the King of Knights’ only son. I will not have some lying pretender soiling his name by pretending to be some long-lost bastard.”

“He’s not lying,” Ruby protested. “Let him go!”

“Hold on, master,” Archer cautioned. The jester probably thought she’d kill the boy for his farce. Give up her chance at the grail and all that came with it, just to protect her and her father’s honor.

He wasn’t wrong.

She felt Nora try to tear her off, but the girl’s strength was nothing compared to her own. Jaune’s eyes began to become bloodshot.

“Look at this,” Ren demanded. Mordred rolled her eyes but decided to indulge the boy.

She was so shocked by what she saw that Nora was able to break her grip.

In Ren’s hand was a scroll, one of the magic like communicators of this time. And on the scroll, was a picture of Jaune hugging Ren, Nora, a tall red-headed girl in spartan like armor…

And father.

Mordred would know her father’s face anywhere. It was the same as her own after all. But on it was something Mordred couldn’t recall ever seeing before.

Father was smiling.

He was smiling as he embraced this blonde fool.

Embraced him like a son.

Mordred’s hand twitched, wanting to form a fist but too stunned to maintain the motion. “Wha—what sorcery is this?”

Ren stood before her stoically. “Qrow said the grail gives you knowledge of our time. You know this isn’t a trick.”

“It has to be!” she roared. “Father doesn’t smile! He doesn’t hug!”

_‘He never hugged me.’_

She whirled back on Jaune. Nora and Ruby stepped in front of him protectively.

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I don’t know how you’ve done this, pretender. But I am father’s one true heir. I am the only knight to ever surpass him!”

Jaune held his hands before him placatingly. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. You’re the heir. Crystal clear.”

Mordred lowered her hand, but not her glare. “Good,” she spat. “Now where is father? I would have words with him.”

Jaune’s face lowered. His gaze became morose. “She’s dead.”

Mordred lowered her head for a moment. How could he be dead before the war even started?

No matter. She wasn’t here for him.

“I will fight for you, master,” she sneered. “I will win you the Holy Grail. But I will not be constrained by the asinine tactics of a pretender. Find some safe hole to crawl into. I’ll go claim victory.”

She strode away before he could respond and jumped up the stairwell, the stone floor cracking under the power of her leap. Once at the top she followed her course past the scruffy man from earlier, a black-haired girl with a bow, and two blonde men (one had a monkey’s tail, neat) and headed out of the house.

She got six miles before she realized she had no idea where she was.

Reluctantly, she trudged back to the cottage and plopped down in one of the pillowed chairs of the living room.

Everyone, who had gotten out of the basement, gave her a look.

“This means nothing,” she declared.

Nora ran over and hugged her. “You came back!”

Jaune looked at her more unsure, nervously scratching the back of his head.

Mordred glared at the pretender.

She would win the war. She would prove she was father’s most worthy son.

 

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Far away in the Mistral countryside, a young farm boy named Oscar Pine looked in the mirror.

_“Hello,” a voice greeted inside his head._

Oscar promptly fell over.


	16. Onward to War

Emerald had met some strange characters in her time. Heck, back in Vale she had been teamed up with the disabled son of an assassin who still managed to be one of the best fighters she had ever seen (not that she would have ever told him that), an effeminate thief with a huge ego, a psychotic faunus supremacist, and a mute girl who had probably been more dangerous than the rest of them put together.

Yet, sitting next to Tyrian Callows at Salem’s grand table, she found herself missing all of them.

Even Mercury.

The scorpion faunus hadn’t stopped cackling like a madman since he’d returned. At this point, Watts looked like he was ready to stop fiddling with his scroll and strangle the bastard. Even Hazel was crinkling his eyebrow in annoyance.

“So, let me get this straight,” Tyrian giggled. “Cinder put all that effort into her little quest for power. Recruiting you kiddies, having Watts make that booboo for the Atlesian clankers, and even facing off with Ozpin. And in the end, she gets turned into a cup! Hahahahaha!”

Emerald curled her fist. No one disrespected Cinder’s memory like that.

“Your indecent jabbering is upsetting my master, vermin. I suggest you hold your tongue before I tear it out.”

Emerald turned to her left. Where she might have stood if Cinder remained in her seat now stood a slight woman in a dark purple cloak. Light blue hair cascaded down her face, obscuring her eyes from view. Her servant. Caster.

Tyrian just laughed harder. “Ah yes, and of course there’s you, isn’t there? All the power of her grace behind her and poor little urchin could only summon a mere witch.”

Caster’s hand shot up. A purple sigil blazed in front of Tyrian and smashed him into his chair. He was still smiling as he rolled around on the floor.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Caster hissed. “Your tongue is insufficient. I’ll take your whole head as recompense.”

No sooner had she finished than the chamber’s doors slammed open. A huge black tentacle lashed out and wrapped around Caster. With a mighty heave, the Servant of the Spell was slammed into the floor. The black obsidian was shattered.

The tentacle retracted, and Salem glided through the door a moment later. She circled the other side and sat herself down at the head of the table.

Emerald kneeled down and helped Caster to her feet. She fearfully looked to Salem, but the Queen merely gave her a soft smile. As if she hadn’t just smashed a heroic spirit into the ground in a single stroke.

“Caster, I will not tolerate the threatening of my subjects,” Salem warned. “Do so again at your own peril.”

Caster growled, but nodded her acknowledgment.

Tyrian leapt back into his chair and increased his laughter.

“And you,” Salem turned to him and the psychopath’s cackling died. “Tyrian, Caster is an ally. You are not to antagonize her for _fun_.”

Tyrian pouted glumly.

Watts raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, your grace, how much of an ally is she really? She is known as the Witch of Betrayal for a reason.”

Emerald felt more than heard Caster seethe at the doctor’s words.

Salem on the other hand calmly addressed the doctor’s concerns. “A hero is not their legend, Arthur. Hazel is proof enough of that. Caster is Emerald’s Servant and Emerald has my full confidence.”

Emerald preened at the Queen’s words. She was amazed at how the woman could go from a horrifying abomination one moment to a fair motherly figure the next. It was obvious who Cinder had copied her leadership style from. It made Emerald want to do her best for the woman while keeping the heavy price of failure in the back of her mind.

“Thank you, my Queen.” Emerald bowed and retook her seat. Caster recovered enough to stand by her side, glaring daggers at Watts and Tyrian from under the hood.

“Be that as it may,” Watts spoke cautiously. “The girl is inexperienced in the matters of sorcery, and Caster is not the most imposing warrior to begin with.”

“I am capable enough to claim the grail, especially with my master by my side,” Caster declared.

“Indeed, you are,” Salem concurred. “In fact, that is the exact reason I did not alter you when Emerald summoned you. Though I have some connection to the grail, it has grown… I suppose the appropriate term would be vaccinated to my direct influence. No Servant I directly power can win the grail. Though, Dr. Watts does raise a good point.”

“Your grace, I assure you, I can handle this,” Emerald protested.

“Cinder thought she could too,” Hazel reminded her bluntly. “The King of Heroes proved her wrong.”

“Indeed,” Salem’s hands closed into fists. “ _Gilgamesh_. Such a troublesome lout. Do you think you can deal with him, Hazel?”

“Incomplete as he is now? Perhaps.”

“But were he to regain the treasure Raven Branwen stole from him, even you would be annihilated,” Salem surmised. “Add in the other Servants and Kotomine, and we do seem to be significantly underpowered.”

“Your orders, my Queen?” Watts inquired.

Salem rubbed her chin for several moments, deep in thought. Or, so Emerald assumed. She wouldn’t put it past the woman to exaggerate her process to make herself seem larger than life. Which, to be fair, it did.

“Watts, you will take Cinder’s place as intermediary between ourselves and Lionheart. The man has proven useful so far and if any masters come into his care, he could prove so again. Hazel, you will take Tyrian, Emerald, and Caster to Atlas.”

“What’s in Atlas?” Emerald inquired.

Salem grinned. “The power we need.” The Queen rose from her throne and they all rose with her. “Thanks to your efforts, Beacon has fallen. Despite our losses and our new adversaries, we now have a chance to win this war in one fell swoop. And we shall.”

Hazel, Watts, and Tyrian all bowed and walked away. Caster dissolved into spirit form.

Emerald hesitated however.

Salem turned to her. “What troubles you, my dear? Speak your mind.”

Emerald curled her lip as she gathered her thoughts. “It’s just…” she stammered, “Cinder said we were at Beacon to get the powers of the Fall Maiden. Now, she’s dead and those powers are gone, but you don’t seem bothered by that, your grace.”

Salem shook her head in bemusement. “Cinder’s objective was to claim the Maiden’s powers for herself. It was her dream to be strong and feared. But they were also necessary to fulfill her mission from me. You see, dear Emerald, the power of the maidens comes from the work of Ozpin using magical energy gifted to him by our enemy. In addition to empowering the host however, they also block my connection to four relics, each hidden deep within the Huntsmen Academies.”

“So, only a maiden can hold these relics?”

“No, but only they can retrieve them from their hiding places,” Salem explained. “As long as their power persists in the world, the chambers they correspond to will serve as a barrier against all others. And as the power normally reincarnates no matter how the previous holder died, this proved quite the exceptional defense.”

“Until Kirei,” Emerald scowled.

Strangely, Salem chuckled at the name. “I did warn Cinder he was a dangerous man. I really should have made sure I could track him when I gave him that black heart.”

Emerald’s eyes widened. “You gave him…what?”

“A small boon,” Salem waved it off. “I was in a good mood at the time. Suffice to say, with the Fall Maiden’s power gone, the relic it shielded was freed and returned naturally to its rightful owner. Just like Summer nineteen years ago.”

The black mass beneath the Queen’s robes churned. A soft golden glow seemed to be struggling to escape.

Emerald had been a thief a long time. It required quite a few survival skills, not the least of which was being able to look at apparently disparate events and draw conclusions that could save your skin. “So, what you’re saying is that you benefited from Cinder’s death,” she accused.

Her courage died at Salem’s glare. “Do not take that tone with me ever again, Emerald. Cinder was a loyal servant and I shall miss her dearly. I do not throw people away so easily.”

Emerald bowed immediately. “You’re right. I apologize, my mistress. Please forgive me.”

Salem’s glare evaporated, and she turned away from Emerald. “It is fine. You’re young. You will learn. Go speak with Caster. It is best that masters be more to their Servants than _prana_ batteries or else I can’t promise that Watts’ prediction of her loyalty will not come true.”

“Of course, your grace,” Emerald responded. She turned to leave, but a nagging thought battled with her terror. In the end, her curiosity won out.

She faced the Queen once more. “Your grace, if it is alright for me to know, what do the relics do, exactly?”

“Oh, I suspect they would grant some mystical boon to any huntsman fortunate enough to possess them,” Salem revealed offhandedly. “But their true value is to me and me alone. You see Emerald, my dear, the relics are but pieces of a far greater device.”

“What device?” Emerald inquired.

Salem grinned, and for the first time, Emerald saw sadism on her ivory face. “A key. A key to the isle of my enemy.”

 

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_‘I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy…’_

_“You’re really not.”_

_‘Says the old man voice in my head!’_

Oscar Pine was having a distressing week. He madly paced around his room in the barn, trying in vain to forget that he was hearing a voice in his head that was most definitely not his own. Add in that voice was trying to get him to leave home and go to Haven?

Perhaps distressing was too light a word.

 _“I do request you not call me that,”_ the voice said _. “I told you before. I am Professor Ozpin of Beacon.”_

_‘Yeah. And I’m the General of Atlas.’_

_“Don’t try to snide, Oscar. It doesn’t suit you. Besides, General Ironwood is a good friend of mine. The comparison between you two is lacking.”_

Oscar seethed. He couldn’t deny the voice was something potent, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d played a trick earlier in the week where he’d had Oscar envision the office of the headmaster of Haven. Oscar had told himself that he’d probably just seen a picture of the office in one of his aunt’s books, but when he’d checked later he’d found no such thing.

But, even if everything the voice said was true. Even if he wasn’t going crazy and he did have one of the most famous huntsmen in all of Remnant inside his head, what the heck did that make him?

If Ozpin was fusing with his soul, where did that leave Oscar Pine?

 _“The same as you always were,”_ Ozpin assured him, reading Oscar’s fears _. “You are a good man, Oscar. I wish I didn’t have to uproot your life, but the world is in more danger than ever before. It needs our help.”_

 _‘What can I do?”_ Oscar challenged _. ‘Even if you’ve unlocked my aura, I’ve got no training or experience or anything. What could I possibly do that actual huntsmen couldn’t do better?’_

Ozpin was quiet for a moment. Oscar actually thought he’d score a point.

 _“I’m putting a symbol in your mind,”_ Ozpin told him _. “Write it on a piece of paper. But keep it away from anything that might catch fire.”_

Oscar envisioned the character a moment later and wrote it on one of his spare papers.

_‘Okay, now what?’_

_“Watch.”_

Blue lines lit up across Oscar’s arms. A moment later, the paper burst into flames.

Oscar staggered back in shock. The paper burnt up to ash.

_“Wha- What was that?”_

_‘That was what you can do,’_ Ozpin informed him _. ‘At the end of our last life, I became aware that it is possible for one to possess both aura and magic circuits. As such, when our souls fused, I utilized the instance of spiritual malleability to not only unlock the former, but also forge you some of the latter. They enable you to perform magecraft, such as the rune magic you just did.’_

Despite himself, Oscar was amazed.

_‘Have you ever had these magic circuit things before?’_

_“Once. In our first life. Before we were even Ozpin.”_

That was disturbing. To think how far back that original man must have lived. And how he was no longer even himself. Just the foundation of Ozpin.

Oscar wondered if one day he would cease to be as well.

 _“No,”_ Ozpin sternly assured him. _“Not one of us has ever disappeared into nothingness. Merlin’s life is as well remembered now as it ever was.”_

Merlin. Cool name.

 _‘Alright,’_ Oscar resigned _. ‘How many of these magic circuits do we have?’_

_“One hundred.”_

_‘Is that a lot?’_

Ozpin chuckled.

_“In Merlin’s time, mages would be unnaturally blessed to have so many.”_

Oscar sighed. It looked like he really did have power no one else defending the world did. If he stayed on the farm and did nothing, while they fought a battle that was hopeless without him, what kind of person did that make him?

_‘Okay. Where do we need to go?’_

Oscar felt Ozpin give him a proud smile.

_“Haven Academy should be our destination. From there we can rely on Professor Lionheart to help us get to where we need to go. But we’ll need to make a stop along the way.”_

_‘Why?’_

_“One of my associates, Qrow Branwen, currently has our cane. While I have no doubt he will return it when prompted, I do not like the idea of us traveling Anima unarmed.”_

_‘So, are we visiting some weapon store? I don’t have the money to buy something like that.’_

_“That won’t be necessary, Oscar. We’re going to a lake.”_

How was it that out of everything that was happening to him, that was what confused Oscar the most?

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Jaune wasn’t sure what shocked him more.

The fact that magic was real and that there was an ancient system of summoning long dead heroes to kill each other for a cup, the fact that his mom had been one, the fact that he had just summoned an eighth older sister he’d never heard of, the fact that said sister tried to strangle him…

Actually, that last one he could believe. His sisters tried to strangle him a lot.

But usually, he knew why they wanted him to pay. Mordred just seemed to want him dead because he existed.

Nevertheless, his Servant was currently trying to pry herself out of Nora’s hug. She didn’t have too much difficulty escaping young huntress’ grip, which alone confirmed to Jaune that she was indeed superhuman, but the problem was that the orange haired valkyrie was persistent. Every time Mordred would force her off, she’d just grab hold of a new limb. His new sister got more and more annoyed with each new hug.

“I said unhand me, knave!”

“Never! Ren, help me hold her down!”

“That may not be the best idea, Nora.”

“You’re right! I can take her!”

“No, you can’t!” Mordred yelled. Crimson electricity sparked across her armor, probably meant to shock Nora off. Of course, Nora being Nora, she absorbed the burst and squeezed even harder. “Impossible!”

“Woooo we!” Nora cheered. “That is the best lightning ever! Do it again! Do it again!”

Mordred stared at Nora in horror. “What are you?”

Jaune sighed. This was getting them nowhere. “Nora, please get off of Mordred.”

Nora pouted at him. “But Jaune, she needs love! Just look at how grumpy she is!”

“Unhand me, foul demon! I need nothing from you!”

“Nora, please,” Taiyang pleaded. “I can’t afford to repair the house and pay Yang’s medical bills.”

Nora frowned and reluctantly left Mordred to got stand by Ren.

The Servant shivered in revulsion. “This world is horrifying.”

“I concur,” Ruby’s Servant, that silver-hair Archer guy, said. “While not likely for the same reasons as Saber over there, the information the grail has given us for this war is most irregular. I for one cannot say I have ever encountered these ‘Grimm’ before.”

“Yeah, the last ones said the same thing,” Qrow told them, plopping down in the recliner.

He explained their current situation to Mordred and Archer.

Archer rubbed his chin in thought. “Hmm, this is strange. To think that the world could fall into such disrepair.”

“Yeah,” Mordred whispered. “You’d think someone would’ve gotten the guts to roast this Salem chick by now.” She pouted and rolled her lips. “Chick. _Chiiick_. Huh, never would have thought of using that word like that. Modern lingo is weird.”

She turned to Ruby. “So, when do we go out and start dropping bodies?”

Ruby’s eyes widened in realization. “Uncle Qrow? We don’t have to kill the masters, right?”

Jaune didn’t react to that as much as he should have. Sure, it wasn’t something he had considered before, and he didn’t necessarily _want_ to kill people but…

If said people were Kirei, Emerald, and Gilgamesh, if they were the people who took his partner and his mother away from him? He wouldn’t say he’d mind getting his hands a little bloody.

Fortunately, Qrow vigorously shook his head. “No. No, Ruby, only the Servants need to die for you to win the war.”

“Though a Servant without a master is much easier to deal with than one with a stable contract,” Archer pointed out.

Qrow narrowed his eyes. “Moving on, we can’t exactly just go out wily-nily. The old wars may have been sequestered in a single city, but now all of Remnant is the battlefield.”

“Ugh!” Mordred cried. “So, you’re telling me we have no idea where any of the other masters are? That’s so boring! How am I supposed to kill them if they won’t show themselves?”

“The other masters aren’t our only problem,” Qrow reminded her. “Cinder may be dead, but Salem isn’t going to let that stop her. She has more than enough forces to focus on the war and her original plans.”

“Which means she’s going after Haven next,” Blake surmised.

Sun stood up, fury on his face. “Uh-uh, no way! That psycho Grimm lady isn’t touching my school!”

Qrow smirked. “Nice attitude, kid. But the shuttles have all left. You sure you’re up for the trip?”

“Duh,” Sun replied immediately.

Blake stood up next to him. “We all are.”

Jaune nodded. Ren, Nora, and Ruby did the same.

Strangely, Taiyang sighed. “I can’t go with you, Qrow. I’ve got to stay here and look after Yang.”

Qrow nodded understandingly. “Of course, Tai.” He turned back to the rest of them. “Now then, you lot. While your spunk is fantastic, we’ve got a serious problem. Just because we have no idea where the other masters are, doesn’t mean they won’t track us down.”

“Meaning if we all travel together; the non-masters will be in danger from the enemy Servants,” Archer translated. “They will attack you in order to put Ruby and Jaune off guard.”

Ruby curled back into the couch. Jaune could understand the impulse. He’d already lost so much. He didn’t want to put his friends in any more danger.

Those friends though, didn’t back down.

“We’re not afraid,” Blake declared for them all.

“Then you’re fools,” Archer responded.

Qrow sighed. “I would have phrased it differently, but essentially yeah. You guys have seen what Arturia can do—

“Actually, I didn’t,” Sun reminded them. “What could she do?”

“—and the other Servants won’t be far behind,” Qrow ignored him. “You guys can still travel to Haven, mostly because you’d follow us if I told you no, but it has to be on a different route than us. You guys can follow the usual town hopping path, while I take Ruby and Jaune through the forest.”

“The safe houses?” Tai asked.

Qrow nodded. “The safe houses.”

The students looked at each other for a moment before Ruby tentatively raised her hand. “What safehouses?”

Both men looked to the silver-eyed girl. Both hesitated, weirdly tongue-tied all of a sudden.

At last Taiyang spoke, “Your grandfather was… a bit paranoid, Ruby. He set up a bunch of safe houses across Vale and Mistral. Really amazing how many he was able to make actually. We used them in the last war to hide in between fights.”

“I have a grandfather?” Ruby asked. “How come I’ve never heard of him?”

“He died right before your mom went to Beacon,” Taiyang explained. “None of the rest of us ever met him and Summer never liked to talk about it. I guess it was too painful.”

Archer hummed. “Building safe houses that can hide a Servant is no small task? That’s no small task. He must have been an impressive man.”

“According to Summer, he was the best,” Qrow told them.

Jaune sighed. He was the best. So, of course, he was long dead, unable to help them at all.

But they had a plan. It was a vague plan, but they were moving forward. That was something.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Qrow asked. Off everyone’s nods, he grinned mirthlessly. “Then, get some sleep, you pipsqueaks. We’ll head out tomorrow.”

 

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_Fire._

_Fire was everywhere._

_He had made a wish. He hadn’t meant to, but he had. And now there were only flames._

_But something was different. The mud had brought him somewhere else. The crumbling buildings were wood, not metal or stone. Among the screams of dying innocents, black creatures with strange white masks roamed and ravaged the village’s remains._

_He searched endlessly over the carnage, desperate to find a survivor. But all he found were corpses._

_He collapsed to his knees. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There was supposed to peace, true peace._

_But it was all a lie. The grail was a lie._

_A pitiful cry pierced his despair._

_He shambled over to a pile of flaming rubble, Trapped underneath was a child. A little girl crying out for someone to save her._

_He had to save her. He had to save someone._

_“Hold on,” he told her. “I’ll get you out.”_

_A hellish roar broke out behind him. He whirled around, raising his weapon to the approaching wolf. He pulled the trigger by instinct alone._

_But the chamber clicked empty. He hadn’t reloaded yet._

_The black beast leaped at him, ready to tear him apart._

_No less than he deserved._

_He had failed._

_A flash of silver erased the charging creature from existence. No longer moving at blindly speed, he saw the flash was a knight with a brilliant sword._

_He knew her. She was his Servant._

_But shouldn’t she be gone? Gone with the grail?_

_Did the cursed cup still exist? Was it still a danger to the world?_

_“Saber,” he whispered._

_The knight turned to face him. Her eyes blazed with a fury hotter than the fire surrounding them._

_If he had anything left to lose, he would be terrified._

_But he didn’t._

_He pointed back to the buried girl._

_“Please help me save her.”_

****

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Kirei shook his head as he woke. He had experienced similar, though far more confusing memory flashes during his tenure as the fourth Assassin’s master. These dreams were far more enjoyable however.

He opened his eyes and stared down the barrel of a Thompson Contender identical to his own. On the other end, his Servant scowled as he struggled to pull the trigger.

Kirei smirked. “Have you been at that all night? Really, you must learn to relax, Kiritsugu Emiya.”

Assassin, his face identical to Kirei’s greatest enemy and dearest friend save for tan skin and silver eyes and hair, sneered but maintained his position.

Kirei chuckled and rose from his bed. After he had learned who he had summoned, the priest had despaired. To have his perfect opponent brought back into this world, only to be tied to him as an ally. It was a such a torturous punishment he was convinced it was the word of God himself, finally moving to smite Kirei for his transgressions.

But when Assassin had moved to execute him, he had rapidly activated a Command Seal to prevent him from continuing his attack.

It didn’t stop him from trying to overcome that order literally every moment afterwards, but it did provide Kirei with the alternative joy of watching his foe struggle with the same restrictions that chaffed at him.

Even in the Lord’s punishments, he hid blessings.

Kirei pulled on his robe and strapped the Contender to his side. He smiled at Kiritsugu’s responding growl.

He didn’t know how any version of the Mage Killer proved worthy of the Throne, but to his understanding, Heroic Spirits were an amalgam of the consciousness of their identities in every timeline, with the one or ones that proved worthy taking precedent. But with the memories of all.

This Kiritsugu knew how he had acquired the Contender, so he at least knew of the events of this timeline.

Still, he did not feel like a regular Heroic Spirit.

Oh well, it would be more interesting to find out as he went along. Though…

Kirei glanced at his Contender. With Kritsugu likely to work only reluctantly and Gilgamesh still healing, it may be best to increase his arsenal sans Heroic Spirits.

And thanks to his experience at Beacon, he knew exactly where to go.

 

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_He pulled the remaining rubble off the girl. The sacred sheath was inside her now._

_Saber left soon after, declaring they were done. He supposed that was fair._

_He had destroyed her ideals, and it had led to nothing._

_He picked up the little red-headed girl. She was barely awake in the smoke._

_“Hey, stay with me,” he demanded of her. “You’re alive. You’re alive.”_

_The girl’s silver eyes peaked open._

_He smiled, elated that, at last, he was truly able to save someone._

_It wasn’t for nothing._

_“I’m Kiritsugu Emiya. I will protect you.”_

_The girl smiled at that. Perhaps he gave her the same hope she gave him._

_“Summer,” she whispered. “My name is Summer Rose.”_

 

 


	17. A Wish That Might Be

_A golden sunset gleamed on a burnt horizon._

_A lone man staggered up a hill filled with swords, his own body a pincushion of blades._

**_‘I am the bone of my sword’._ **

_The man reached the crest of the hill and sank to his knees._

**_‘Steel is my body, and fire is my blood’._ **

_A noose, waiting for a hangman, flashed across the sky._

**_‘I have created over a thousand blades._ **

**_Unknown to Death,_ **

**_nor known to Life’._ **

_The man on the hill, his hair and eyes a matching silver, smiled._

**_‘Withstood pain to create many weapons._ **

**_Yet, these hands will never hold anything. Thus, I pray…’_ **

_Tears flooded down the man’s face._

**_‘Unlimited Bladeworks!’_ **

_He screamed._

 

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Ruby shot up in bed, panting heavily. Sweat clung to her pajamas.

She whirled around the room, searching for the bronze field littered with weapons. Realizing it was just a dream, she didn’t know what to think. Part of her longed to see those beautiful swords again while the other desperately tried to forget the sound of the man’s scream.

She furrowed her eyebrows. White hair, tan skin, red cape…

The man in her dream was Archer.

Ruby glanced at her hand. Even in the relative dark of the early morning, the Commands Seals glared back at Ruby. It felt like they were challenging her, seeing if she had the resolve to do what she needed to do, to be a hero.

She thought she did. She’d have Jaune and Uncle Qrow with her while Blake and the others dealt with Salem’s attack. And she only needed to kill the Servants, who were already dead, so…that made it better?

She really wished that wasn’t a question.

Ruby sank back into her pillows. She didn’t know what to do in this war. She’d never wanted to go to war, just save people. And she needed to save everyone, she knew that but with the weird Archer dream, she was starting to wonder if she really knew what she was getting herself into.

She wished she could talk to Yang. She could use some sisterly advice.

There was light leaking in from the bottom of Ruby’s door. The silver-eyed girl raised an eyebrow. The only other room on her floor was Yang’s, so that meant…

Ruby jumped out of bed and dashed out the door.

She tore open the entrance to her sister’s room, her grin wider than ever before.

And saw Yang still lying in bed. Still unconscious.

“What?” Ruby muttered. The light was on, so who was in the –

A jacket to the face cut off Ruby’s line of thought.

“Nope,” a voice declared. “Nope, nope, definitely not. Ugh! None of these are fit for a king!”

Ruby disentangled herself from the black and white jacket in her face and saw Mordred coming out of the closet, a pile of Yang’s clothes on her arm.

The Saber Servant ungracefully plopped them all on the ground.

“Hey!” Ruby whined. “What are you doing?”

Mordred looked up and smiled. “Ah, Ruby. Perfect timing. I need clothes for wearing outside. So, tell me, do you prefer the tan long coat or the brown duster?”

“Those are Yang’s clothes!” Off Mordred’s lack of reaction, “Yang. My sister. The girl in the bed right there!” Ruby pointed.

Mordred took a glance at Yang’s sleeping form. She turned back to Ruby and shrugged. “She snoozes, she loses.”

“She’s in a coma!”

“Oh,” Mordred had the decency to look slightly abashed. “Just the brown duster then.”

“Ugh!” Ruby threw up her arms and banged her head against the wall. How was this Arturia’s first kid?

After a minute of deep, calming breathes, Ruby turned back to the knight.

Mordred had neatly folded the pile of clothes and put them back in the closet. Then, she made her armor disappear in a flash of light, leaving only a very skimpy red dancer’s outfit. Her entire midriff was bare, and her bust was only hidden by a tight crimson wrapping. There was a decent length skirt though so Ruby thanked the gods for small miracles. And then, cursed them for the tolls demanded for them as Mordred threw on the brown duster that Yang had favored since before they’d even gotten into Beacon.

Ruby was now a little grateful she probably wouldn’t be around when her sister woke. Sure, she’d miss Yang and she really wished she’d be able to say goodbye, but the world needed to be saved. If they didn’t do it, there wouldn’t be a world for her to wake up to.

Also, she didn’t want to be around when Yang realized her favorite jacket was missing. She was bound to notice something was off with her closet. Yang didn’t fold clothes. Which was actually really strange considering she had technically been the ‘mother’ figure in the house since she was four, but hey, everyone’s got blind spots.

Ruby sighed. “Why don’t you just ask Jaune to buy you some clothes?”

Mordred scowled. “Why would I want anything from the pretender?”

“I thought we proved to you that he really is your brother?” Ruby whined. “We showed you the picture and everything.”

“All that image proved was that father gave him a hug,” Mordred growled. “Besides, father is dead, isn’t he? Are you going to stand there and tell me that it’s not that fool’s fault?”

Ruby lowered her head. It wasn’t Jaune’s fault.

_‘It’s mine.’_

Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at Mordred. “You know, Jaune may not be the best fighter in the world, but Arturia thought he was a fantastic leader. A king even! So, you might want to stop being mean and give him a chance.”

She didn’t notice Mordred’s eyes narrow in fury at the word ‘king’.

“Give him a chance, huh?” she queried, her voice unnervingly even. “You sure you want me to do that, little girl? After all, if I start getting along with him, then the odds of you getting the Grail become none.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ruby declared. “Jaune and I want the same thing.”

Or at least, she was pretty sure they did. What else would he wish for another than bringing everyone back to life?

Mordred snorted. “Doesn’t matter? Ha! Even if you and the idiot really do have the same wish, I can tell for sure that me and the jester don’t.”

“Jester?”

“Your Archer.” Mordred rolled her eyes. “You do know that both the winning master _and_ Servant get a wish, right? Are you going to sacrifice whatever it is that guy wants because you’re too weak to fight your little friend?”

Ruby opened her mouth to respond but…she just charged out of the room in a huff. She could feel Mordred smirking behind her.

She really didn’t like smirking people.

Except for Yang. And Uncle Qrow. And Nora whenever she was in one of her moods.

Okay, so it was really just Kirei and Mordred, but she really didn’t like them.

Ruby headed down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe she could whip up some eggs for everyone to clear her head. She’d make Mordred’s really dry. Perfect revenge.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t the first one there.

“So, the paprika brings out the flavor?”

“Indeed, but only in moderation. You have to measure it carefully or the entire dish will be ruined.”

“Extraordinary,” Ren muttered, scribbling down what Archer had told him faster than Ruby had ever seen him move. “How did you learn all this?”

“Through much trial and error,” Archer explained with a smile. He summoned that cool white short sword from yesterday and diced up a cucumber faster than Ruby could even see. He poured the vegetable into a large wooden bowl and set it to the side while he brought out some lettuce.

To the side, Ren studiously took down the steps in one of his old Beacon notebooks.

Ruby cleared her throat. Both men looked up and smiled at her.

“Morning, Ruby,” Ren greeted.

“Master,” Archer nodded. “Do not worry. Breakfast will be ready quite soon.”

“Great,” Ruby said. She wasn’t sure how convincing she sounded. When she looked at Archer, all she could see was him screaming on the hill of swords.

Ren raised an eyebrow and came over to her. “Are you alright, Ruby?”

“Fine,” Ruby responded quickly. “I’m fine, great really. Except, well, Mordred’s going through Yang’s clothes and then we got into a fight about Jaune. She didn’t try to choke me at least, so I suppose there’s that.”

“Mordred is temperamental at the best of times. It’s best not to concern yourself too much with her words, Master,” Archer advised.

“How do you know that?” Ren asked. “Did you know her in your life?”

“No, I spent five minutes with her.”

That shouldn’t have been as convincing as it was.

Still, Ren’s question combined with Ruby’s dream to raise her own curiosity. “Archer, who were you in life? What was your name?”

Archer stopped chopping lettuce. He didn’t respond, but he seemed like he was considering how to.

At last, he looked up at Ruby. “Master, my legend was virtually unknown in my own time. It is highly unlikely that even if I told you my name, you would have any idea who I was. Telling you would have no tactical advantage to us and would in fact only prove a danger should our enemies pry my identity from your mind. To that end, I request that you allow me to keep it to myself.”

“Oh,” Ruby muttered. “That makes sense I suppose. Can you at least tell me what your wish for the grail is?”

Archer shrugged. “I would if I had one. As of now, there is nothing that I want from the grail.”

“Really?” Ren said disbelievingly. “You want nothing from a device that can grant any wish?”

“It is quite sad, I know,” Archer remarked. “But to have endless possibilities opened before you does not do any favors to the process choosing any single one.”

“But there’s got to be something you want!” Ruby protested. She should be relieved that her willingness to sacrifice the grail to Jaune wasn’t going to trample on Archer’s desires, but it so sad. How could anyone not want anything?”

Archer’s expression darkened, and he stared at his sword.

“There is something I want,” he admitted. “But it’s not something that I can achieve in this time, even with the Grail.”

“Well, maybe I can help you get it,” Ruby proposed. “If we’re going to be partners, we should help each other out. I can help you get whatever it is you want, and you can teach me more about being a silver-eyed warrior.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “A what?”

Ruby quivered. “A silver-eyed warrior. You know, silver eyes, deadly to Grimm and Servants? I just thought that with yours and your being a hero and all…”

“The color of my eyes is a side effect of my fighting style,” he revealed. “I have never heard the term ‘silver-eyed warrior’ before in my life.”

“Oh.” Ruby’s shoulders fell. Ren put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Archer finished dicing the lettuce and threw it into the same bowl as the cucumbers before mixing everything together. “Regardless, the exchange would have been pointless. If the Grail cannot give me what I want, you certainly cannot either.”

“I still would have tried,” Ruby insisted.

“And that would be unwise,” Archer stated. “This is a war, master. Your aura maintains me in this world as a normal mage’s _prana_ would, and so I am your Servant. For now, Saber and her master are your friends. But the time may come when you will need to seek other allies, perhaps those you prefer not to. In the end, every team wants the Grail and only one can have it.”

“Jaune and I have the same wish though,” Ruby told him. “So, it doesn’t matter which one of us wins.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “Really? He wants to wipe the Grimm off the face of Remnant?”

Ruby’s heart skipped a beat. Ren’s eyes widened.

“What?” she muttered.

Archer set the salad bowl to the side and leaned on the back of the counter. “Well, I assumed that was your wish. You seemed like one of those grand hero types. If I overstepped myself, I apologize, master.”

He didn’t look sorry at all. His smirk was almost as wide as Kirei’s.

Ruby gazed at her Command Seals. They just kept becoming a heavier burden to bear. “Can the Grail really do that?”

“The Grail can do anything in this timeline.”

“REN!” a joyous shout sounded.

Nora dashed in from the living room where the not family members had slept. She gave Ren a bone crushing hug. “Blake’s off brooding in the forest and Sun went with her, while Jaune’s writing some letter! Isn’t it a great morning?”

“The best, Nora,” Ren replied evenly. The hug was painful, but it was better than the tears she had poured out during the days after Pyrrha’s death.

“I know,” she said, her eyes and smile wide. She caught sight of the salad bowl. “Food!”

She zipped over to it and reached out a hand, but it was slapped away by the flat of a white blade.

Archer glared at her, the room seeming to get darker with his fury. “You will wait until everything is ready” he snarled.

“Yes sir! Yes sir!” Nora frantically nodded. Backing away from the salad.

Ren gazed up at Archer in awe.

Meanwhile, Ruby was too lost in thought to enjoy her friend’s cowing.

Wiping out the Grimm? It was a pipe dream. No one knew how many Grimm there were in the world and no one knew how they reproduced. Not even the most brazen huntsman dared to dream that they could destroy the creatures of darkness forever.

But if it could be done, if the grail could really do it, then the benefit to humanity would be uncalculatable. The kingdoms could expand past the capital’s rigid borders and the frontier settlements wouldn’t disappear like they were never there. There would never be another tragedy like Mountain Glenn or the Fall of Beacon. People would be safe.

Everyone would be saved.

Except for the ones she’d already failed.

Pyrrha, Penny, Arturia, the others lost in the Fall, they would stay dead. Without the grail, there was no way to save them.

Could Ruby give up those she’d lost to save those she’d never know?

What would a hero do?

…

They’d make the right choice.

…

…

…

What was the right choice?

 

* * *

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Blake stood over the summoning seal Ruby had used. She couldn’t take her eyes off the circle of blood. Just the day before she had seen it conjure a man out of thin air. It was impossible.

_“Very soon, the impossible will become very possible.”_

Adam had known this was going to happen. He knew about the Holy Grail War.

Did that mean he was a master?

“Blake?” a timid voice asked. She turned and saw Sun walking up next to her. “Are you okay? You’ve been out here longer than your usual brooding time.”

Blake scowled. “I do not have a usual brooding time.”

Sun smirked. “Yeah, you kind of do. Yang and I measured it.”

Blake opened her mouth to argue but ended up chuckling. That sounded like something Yang would do.

Sun smiled, the world seemed a bit brighter.

Still though, Blake’s eyes furrowed at the seal. “It seems so unbelievable.”

“We don’t have much choice but to believe,” Sun pointed out. “We saw Archer get summoned and I don’t think Mordred was hiding in the basement.”

“Saber,” Blake told him. “Her real name gives away her identity and that gives away her weaknesses. We should get used to calling her Saber.”

“Right,” Sun nodded, shamefully rubbing the back of his head.

Blake sighed. “I know the war is real, but the idea that this Holy Grail can really do anything? That it can make your greatest wish come true in an instant? It seems ridiculous. Like, how does it alter the minds of people if the master wants others to be kind forever? If someone wishes to be immortal, can’t others study their body to learn how to do the same? If it brings someone back from the dead, is it really that person or just an artificial copy that acts the same—”

“Woah,” Sun calmed her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Slow down, Blake. You’re giving Nora a run for her money.”

Blake took a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s just, thinking about what it could do.”

“I know,” Sun said. “If we got that thing we could wake up Yang easy.”

“Not just that,” Blake pointed out. “Yang is strong. She is going to wake up in her own time. I know she’s going to pull through.” Weiss had reminded her of that.

“But the Grail,” she continued, “it can do the impossible. It could make true equality between humans and faunus in an instance. No more White Fang, no more hate, just peace.”

She smiled morosely. “It’s tempting. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. To have the chance to change the world on that scale.”

“Do you want to talk to Ruby or Jaune about it?”

Blake shook her head. “No. I trust them both. Whatever they wish for, I’m sure it will be worth it. Besides, I think my wish might have one more supporter than it should.”

Sun raised an eyebrow warily. “What do you mean?”

“During the Fall, when I was getting Yang, I was confronted by Adam.”

“Your old partner?”

Blake nodded. “I thought he was there to kill me. But he actually saved Yang and I from Mercury. And then he let us go. No tricks, no backstabs, he just let us go.”

“Okay, maybe he decided you did what you had to do and to let bygones be bygones?” Sun proposed.

“Adam doesn’t do bygones.” Blake declared. “He asked me to come back to him, rejoin the White Fang. He said that after that night, a miracle would be within reach and he wanted me by his side to claim it. I thought he had finally gone completely insane but—”

“If he was talking about the Holy Grail War…” Sun’s eyes widened. “Do you think he’s a master?”

“Maybe,” Blake admitted. “He mentioned something about Kirei and Gilgamesh giving him an opportunity, but I don’t want to distract Ruby and Jaune until I know for sure. I don’t think he’s allied with Salem, but the White Fang seem to have a habit of following the action.”

“You think we’ll see him on the way to Haven?”

“I hope not.” Adam was one of the strongest fighters she’d ever known. If he had a Servant at his command know, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

“BLAKE! SUN!” Nora yelled from the house. “Archer and Ren made breakfast! Get back here so I can eat!”

Blake and Sun looked to the house and then looked back to each other. They broke out laughing and heading towards the food.

Adam would wait. Yang would wait. Even the Grail would wait. They had food to eat.

 

* * *

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****

_Dear Dad,_

Jaune stopped writing. He knew he needed to let his dad know what had happened at the Fall and what he was doing now but, he wasn’t sure what to say. How could he possibly explain what was happening?

He sighed.

Breakfast was over, and Archer had proven himself quite the cook. Even Nora had been forced to admit he was better than Ren, a fact the quiet boy was in complete agreement with. Mordred had told him not to eat what he was given, saying the Jester was likely to poison him. Ruby had frantically denied ordering her Servant to do that, but Mordred had insisted that the danger of the white-haired man’s food was too great and confiscated his meal.

Which she then proceeded to eat.

Jaune chuckled at the memory. Everyone else was getting packed to go, with Ruby standing guard outside Yang’s room for some reason. She was probably just worried about leaving her sister.

Jaune had gotten ready after waking up, so he was left to wait. With only his blank paper and pen for company. With the CCT down, this was the only way to get his family the message.

He picked up his pen.

_Dear Dad,_

_Hi. It’s been a while. I know you’re probably worried sick after what you saw of the Vytal Festival, but I’m okay. Unfortunately, that’s where the good news stops._

_Mom is dead._

_There were two guys from her past there. Kirei Kotomine and Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes. I don’t know if she ever told you anything about them or Heroic Spirits, but they killed her and did something very bad._

_The Holy Grail War has begun on Remnant, and I’m a master._

_I’ve summoned my Servant, Saber, and she’s apparently mom’s first kid, Mordred. Again, I don’t know if she ever told you anything about all this but, honestly, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes._

_I’m not alone. My friend Ruby is also a master and her uncle is going to help us survive this thing._

_We’re headed to Haven, so don’t worry. I’m going to win. I’m going to wish mom back._

_Tell the girls I’ll be fine._

_Love,_

_Jaune_

Tears splattered on the page and Jaune rubbed his eyes and sniffled.

“Hey,” a voice called him.

Jaune turned around to see Taiyang in the doorway with a plate of grilled cheese.

“Thought you might be hungry after Saber stole your breakfast to ‘protect’ you,” he said, holding out the plate.

“Thanks,” Jaune replied, eagerly taking the plate.

Taiyang gave him a pitying look and sat down beside him. He scanned the letter and shook his head. “You realize you didn’t actually explain what the war is in this, right?”

Jaune gobbled down the sandwich and gulped at the older huntsman. “I was kind of hoping he’d already know. They were married for twenty-five years after all.”

“I wouldn’t hold out on that. Raven wouldn’t have told me anything if she didn’t have to,” Taiyang mused. “Don’t know if she was trying to keep me safe or just being secretive, but it hurt finding out either way.”

“Was that when she ran off?”

“Nah. That was after Yang was born, nine months later. Didn’t get an explanation for that either,” Taiyang sighed. “I was never the worst huntsman in the world, but when you’re on a team with the Branwen Twins and Summer Rose, you can’t help but feel like the weak link.”

“I know how that feels,” Jaune muttered. He knew he wasn’t going to be the strongest when he’d snuck into Beacon, but he’d been stupid enough to think he wouldn’t be completely useless. Oh, how wrong he was. If it hadn’t been for Pyrrha, he wouldn’t even have survived initiation. He had been a burden to his team.

Useless whenever they needed him.

Like Pyrrha did at the tower.

“How do you handle it?” Jaune asked. “They’re all so amazing, and I’m pathetic. I can’t help them when they really need it. Even now, I’m just the guy with the leash. And Mordred isn’t exactly thrilled with that situation.”

Taiyang sighed. “You never stop trying. You keep moving forward. You may fail, again and again, but you might not. You might save them. Letting them go it alone just leaves them vulnerable. Hell, if I had only gone with Summer then…”

He trailed off and looked to the side. He stood up and snatched up the letter. “Ansel, right? I’ll send this over the carrier pigeons. It should get there in a few days.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jaune said, standing as well. “And thank you for everything. I know Qrow wouldn’t have told us everything if you hadn’t made him.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tai waved off. “And don’t be too hard on Qrow either. He has good reasons a lot of the time and he’s not wrong about needing to keep this stuff secret. If word of Salem got out, the panic would make the Grimm unstoppable.”

“Yeah,” Jaune sneered.

_‘But why didn’t he want to tell us?’_

“Jaune! We’re ready to go!” Ruby called from outside.

“Come on, you idiot!” came Mordred’s holler. “The other Servants won’t slaughter themselves!”

Jaune sighed. He smirked at Taiyang. “Any advice on that?”

“Don’t sleep with your sister and really don’t sleep with my daughter.”

 

* * *

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Weiss cried into her bed sheets.

She’d thought she could handle it. She thought she could push everything aside for the concert. That she could just get Vale some money, help rebuild her friends’ home.

But those…those _people_. They didn’t care about others. They didn’t care that innocents died like dogs. They just wanted to be above them. To be apart from the masses. To be gods in their ivory towers.

It was too much. She’d lashed out. If General Ironwood hadn’t agreed with her, she’d be sitting in a jail cell.

She wasn’t sure if she would have preferred that.

Her father had locked her in her room, lectured her, as if he’d had any ground to stand on, and then…

He’d struck her.

And she’d realized how many times he must have struck Winter. And her mother.

He disowned her. Left her with nothing. Whitley had gloated.

They deserved each other. A monster and his son.

But she would not be his daughter.

Her eyes hardened.

Weiss dived under her bed and retrieved a case she hadn’t touched since Beacon. Inside was Myrtenaster.

She drew her saber and stabbed the floor. Her summoning glyph flared to life in front of her. It felt slightly different than when she’d done it at Beacon, but it wasn’t too strange.

Light blazed across the room, then flickered and died.

Weiss growled. She would master summoning. She would become stronger.

She would eclipse her father in every way.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Emerald shivered in the airship’s hold.

“You know, I’ve been all over the world. Stolen from almost everywhere. Always avoided Solitas. You know why?”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s fucking cold,” Emerald spat.

The spit froze as soon as it left her mouth. Solitas, the continent Atlas was on, was famous for its inhospitable climate. The rampant blizzards and icy tundra were too much for even Grimm to bother with it. Which ironically enough, had made the place very attractive to the original founders of Mantle. They broke through the landscape’s dangers with sheer guts and ingenuity.

Then, Mantle had become Atlas and those same attributes created the most powerful kingdom in the world.

She sat in the cargo hold across from Hazel, his thick arms crossed across his chest. He didn’t even flinch in the frigid cabin. His eyes were calmly closed, but Emerald knew better than to think he was asleep.

Tyrian, for some reason beyond her comprehension, was the pilot.

And he was good at it! At least when he wasn’t trying to ram Nevermores for fun.

Caster materialized next to her. “If you would like, I can assist you in that matter, master.”

Emerald snorted. “No offense Caster, but I don’t think a fireball is going to do much if the ship’s heating systems aren’t helping.”

Caster frowned. She lazily waved her hand.

Bright green lines lit up across Emerald’s body. She screeched and then pawed at herself rapidly. “What’re you doing? What is…this?”

The lines faded, and Emerald felt warmer. Not only that, but her skin, her muscles, everything was thicker. Stronger.

“Pitiful technology,” Caster sneered. “I have used reinforcement magic to strengthen your body. Your skin shall hold tighter, allowing you to retain more body heat. You are satisfied, master?”

Emerald stared at her hand in awe. “Yeah. This is incredible.”

Caster smirked, but it wasn’t infuriating like Mercury or Kirei’s was. It just seemed…pleased. “Of course it is, my master. I am the finest mage since the King of Magic himself. My power will bring you the Holy Grail, I swear it.”

Emerald smiled. “Thank you. I promise that I will be worthy of your loyalty.”

Caster blushed and turned away.

Emerald’s smile grew. Salem was right. Getting Caster to care for her was going to be useful.

The hold’s speaker crackled.

“Good evening, ladies and abominations!” Tyrian’s voice cackled. “Despite weather concerns, we should be landing at Wattsie’s secret airfield in a few moments. And then, our glorious assignment from her Grace begins! MUHAHAHAHAHA!!! Try not to mess it up, newbie.”

The speaker died.

Emerald sighed at put her face in her palm. At first, she’d found Tyrian sort of terrifying, but now she wondered how Cinder went five minutes without incinerating the psycho. He was annoying!

Caster growled. “Who does that insolent bug think he is?”

“I don’t think he’s got enough marbles to think,” Emerald remarked.

The craft landed a few moments later as promised. Tyrian came down from the cockpit and the hatch opened up.

A harsh wind blew through the ship. Thanks to Caster’s enchantment, Emerald barely felt it.

Not that Tyrian and Hazel looked like they did either. Tyrian chuckled at the storm while Hazel left the safety of the shuttle as soon as he could.

“According to Watts’ intelligence, our primary target should be stationary, while our secondary targets follow a schedule that sees them enter the city every few days,” Hazel announced. “It will be easier to take them when they’re apart. I’ll secure the secondary targets while Emerald will deal with the primary. Tyrian will wait and observe.”

“Aww, but that’s boring! Why does the newbie get to cause all the carnage?”

Hazel’s glare silenced Tyrian. “No one needs to die today. Besides, Atlas is on high alert after what happened at Beacon. We need to do this quietly. Emerald and Caster will be more easily able to get in and out without being noticed. Speaking of, Caster…” he turned to the Heroic Spirit, “…we will need you to verify Watts’ information by infiltrating the enemy’s stronghold in spirit form.”

Caster’s fists closed. “I do not take orders from you.”

Hazel stared at her blankly for a moment, and then bowed his head. “My apologies.” He turned to Emerald. “Emerald, Caster’s spirit form is completely undetectable by any modern means. She will be able to confirm what we need and get out again without incident. It is my suggestion that we take such a course of action.”

Emerald’s eyes widened. He was actually asking her?

He was. His suggestion was really just that.

Emerald looked at Caster. Being her master had gotten her more respect than serving Cinder ever had.

It was strange, but also, invigorating.

“It’s a sound strategy,” she told Caster.

The Servant of the Spell nodded her assent and the group moved out toward their goal.

A street urchin, a psychotic scorpion faunus, an ancient hero, and whatever the hell Hazel was against the most powerful kingdom on Remnant.

Emerald knew that despite the plan, there was no way what happened next would not be bloody.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Oscar dropped his backpack and collapsed down on the lake front.

“Okay. I’m here. Now what?”

_“Now, we get what we need?” Ozpin told him._

Oscar picked his head and scanned the water. He’d been to this lake dozens of times over the course of his fourteen summers. His aunt had taught him how to swim here.

The farm boy raised an eyebrow. What could Ozpin possibly be looking for at Lake Vivian?

_“Put your hands in the water,” Ozpin ordered him._

Oscar did so. “So, is there some sea monster that’s going to jump out and eat me now?”

_“That’s Loch Ness, Oscar. And that poor beast unfortunately passed a few centuries ago. A true shame. Now focus. What we’re looking for will only come to the worthy.”_

“I’m fourteen,” Oscar pointed out. “How in the world can I be worthy?”

_“Hopeful your innocence combined with our past lives prestige will convince the sword to overlook your youth.”_

“Sword?”

Oscar didn’t have time to inquire further as he was struck in the stomach by a hilt flying out of the water.

The farm boy fell to the ground.

“Ow! Was that supposed to happened?”

_“Not exactly,” Ozpin conceded. “But I guess even a blade of its caliber gets a bit over eager after an eon of disuse.”_

“Eon? What?”

_“Look beside you.”_

Oscar curled over and his eyes widened in awe.

Lying on the sand was a magnificent silver long sword. The pommel and cross guard were solid gold while the grip was royal blue leather. Every inch of the blade seemed to shine like the sun.

Oscar hesitantly reached out and took the sword. He felt cleaner, more fulfilled, more sure in his new mission, just by holding the glorious weapon.

_“It is not truly ours, my boy. We will have to return it to its rightful owner, but for now it will protect us well,” Ozpin assured._

Oscar didn’t even feel bothered. It was an unequitable honor just to behold the blade’s ethereal beauty. To wield it even for an instant would be a dream beyond the hopes of dreams.

“What is this thing?” he whispered in awe.

_“The greatest of all holy swords, my boy.”_

Oscar didn’t know if the name came to him from Ozpin’s memories or if it was sent by some god, but he uttered it with the boundless reverence it deserved.

“Excalibur.”

 

 


	18. Creeping Shadows

Emerald peered through her binoculars, observing the guard station with a critical eye. It was perhaps the most fortified building she'd ever seen. Its parapets stood at least a dozen feet tall and were at least a foot thick of solid steel, topped with barbed wire. As snow fell atop the wire, it sparked and fizzled. It appeared that, whoever was in charge of security, they took their job seriously.

She could only see one way in or out of the complex: the front gate, a checkpoint manned by half a dozen armed men. The guards' uniforms were all neat and sterling white – not much of a surprise, given who their employer was.

She ducked behind her snowdrift and was met by Tyrian's grinning face.

"You sure your pet witch is right about this, newbie?" he asked licking his lips. "Because if she's not, that's going to be bad news for you."

Emerald fixed him with a sharp glare. "Caster has confirmed Watts’ intel. Hazel is in position to get the ones in the car. All that’s left is for me to sneak in and grab the girl, while you sit here like a good psycho and watch my back.”

"Yeah, yeah." Tyrian waved his hand dismissively. "Just make sure you don't take too long. This place is so white, so bland. It bores me."

Emerald turned away from him in a huff and darted to the walls.

_“You spoke well, master” Caster complimented in her mind. “I would have torn him limb from limb for his words.”_

Emerald shook off the creepiness factor she got whenever her Servant used their telepathic link. The magic wielder was probably right next to Emerald in her astral form and the young thief would never even know it.

"Thanks," she whispered, knowing her Servant would hear. "I've been dealing with dicks like him all my life. If you can't kill them, then you just let them know they can't walk all over you."

_"We could kill him, my master," Caster suggested. Though invisible, her voice gave the impression that she was smiling encouragingly. "No one would have to know."_

The idea was not without appeal. Tyrian never stopped insulting her or laughing like a lunatic. She was pretty sure he would have tried to kill her by now if Salem hadn’t ordered otherwise. He was probably still deciding if maiming went against that order. It was more stressful than Mercury’s quips ever were. Still…

  
Emerald shook her head.  _‘If Salem found out, she'd kill us both. It's not worth the risk.’_

Emerald expected a retort about how her Servant could make short work of the Grimm woman, but received only silence. Pausing at the base of the wall, she stopped to catch her breath.

_‘Caster? You okay?’_

_"Be careful of that woman, master," Caster warned her. "There is a darkness in her that's more terrifying than anything I have ever encountered."_

_'You're not exactly a model citizen either, are you Medea?' Emerald pointed out._

The constant dreams she'd been having since the summoning made her sympathetic to her Servant's past, but they didn't exactly hide the horrible things she'd done either.

Yes, that goddess on the clamshell had cursed her with love for that Jason guy, but that love didn’t make her kill her own brother to protect him. If she really was one of the most powerful mages of all time, surely there was a cleaner way to avoid his pursuit.

_"Master, you don't understand," Caster protested. "I will not pretend I have ever shied away from bloodshed, but this Queen…her very essence feels of darkness. Of evil. How did you even end up serving such a demon.?"_

_'She found me,’ Emerald stated simply. 'The benefits were good enough to stay.'_

Love, affection, respect. It wasn't like she was getting those anywhere else.

_"I fear that may not always be the case."_

Emerald kept that in her mind. She had known Cinder was using her from the beginning but her fake love was better than nothing and it wasn't as if she could say no. With Salem, the Queen was…different. She kept everyone in line and Emerald wasn't stupid enough to think her end goal would be anything good for Remnant as a whole, but when she had accused her of plotting Cinder's downfall, the Grimm woman had reacted furiously. And not defensive furiously, legitimately affronted that Emerald would even think her capable of betraying her own.

Heck, it was thanks to her that Emerald was even talking to Caster.

_'For now, we stick with her,' Emerald declared. 'I know you're just looking out for me Caster, but I wouldn't even have you if it weren't for Salem. If nothing else, she's earned the benefit of the doubt.'_

_‘She’s having us kidnap children!'_

_'Yeah, well, I'm technically a kid, so that makes it okay.'_

_“That does not erase your sins in the eyes of the fates. If you should fall today, your damnation in Tartarus will still be certain.”_

_‘Then I won’t die,’ Emerald defended, even though she had no idea what the hell Tartarus was. ‘Look, not all of us are invisible right now, so can we please save this conversation for after we’ve snuck into the mansion that thinks it’s a fortress?’_

Emerald waited a moment. Then two.

Finally, Caster sighed.

_"As you wish, master.”_

Emerald smirked and leapt over the building's wall, slicing the barbed wire with a flick of her kama.

Unbeknownst to her, a hunched figure stalked through the snow towards the main gate.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

Inside his command tent, Adam knelt before the projector. Behind him were the half a dozen faunus who ranked as lieutenants in the Vale White Fang. All of them bowed their heads.

The machine flared and a larger than life hologram of a tiger faunus blazed to life.

"High Leader Khan, you honor us," Adam declared.

Sienna Khan frowned. “I am not contacting you for honor’s sake, Adam. I want to know why you led an assault on Beacon Academy.”

That was a trickier question than it should have been.

Adam had two choices. Spin the tale as a triumphant victory for the White Fang and the glorious downfall of humanity. Or tell the truth that he'd been press-ganged into committing his forces to attack a huntsman academy by a group of abnormally powerful humans only to betray that group to another faction operating within their own ranks all so that he could summon a legendary hero and kill six other people to acquire a mystical cup that could grant any wish.

…

Damn it all.

"High Leader Khan, it would be best if that information was not disclosed over an unsecured line."

"Oh," Sienna raised an eyebrow. "Is your explanation so dreadful that you wish to save me the trip for tearing you apart for your stupidity?"

"More that it's something best shown," Adam explained cryptically. "Please, High Leader. Have all my years of loyalty not earned me this?"

Sienna thought for a moment, a cress forming on her forehead to join her stripes. In the end, she scowled.

"Come to Mistral, Adam," she ordered. "You can show me your explanation at headquarters. And it had better be good. For your sake."

"Thank you, High Leader," Adam replied. "I assure you, you shall not be disappointed."

Sienna Khan scowled, and the hologram faded.

The tent was returned to darkness without the light of the hologram.

Adam rose and shook his head. He wished he'd had better options than to sound like a fanatic or a madman.

"Sir," one of the lieutenants spoke. Adam faced them all. "If the High Leader is displeased, we will stand with you."

The underlying message was clear. If he gave the word, he would be High Leader. Part of Adam wondered if he should give it.

That part was promptly butchered by the rest of him.

Sienna was his mentor, the one who showed him that strength was the path to salvation. When he and the rest of the White Fang were floundering under Ghira Belladonna’s foolish pacifism, it was she who took the initiative and rebuilt the organization as the bastion of strength it was now. Without her, he would not exist as he was now. He did not want to kill her.

And he would have everything he wanted.

Speaking of which…

"I thank you all for your loyalty," he announced. "Each of you needs to select what men you will bring with you to Mistral. We move out tomorrow morning!"

The men gave a mighty cheer and then trickled out of the room.

"That was well spoken, my master," Lancer complimented as he materialized from spirit form.

Adam sneered to the side. "I did not ask for your opinion."

Lancer bowed his head. "Apologies, my lord. It won't happen again."

"Good."

Adam seethed. His Servant, his human, aggravated him just by existing. The fact that he was so damn polite made it even worse. He hated him, and he was just so…noble about, as if the constant degradation meant nothing to him. Nothing seemed to phase him; he accepted every disrespect, every insult, with the same blank look of obedient apathy.

He couldn’t decide if that was how all humans should act before their betters or if such a sniveling dog reminded him too much of the old Fang.

"Adam," a female voice called from the tent opening.

Lancer's eyes widened, and he dissipated back into spirit form.

"What is it?" he inquired to Ilia, calming himself with his old friend.

The chameleon faunus hesitantly walked into the tent, her eyes carefully scanning the inside. "Is... is Lancer here?"

"He's here," Adam grunted. "He's just in spirit form."

"Oh," Ilia noted. She frowned. "Good. That's good. Less of a chance the men will see him."

Was Adam imagining things, or did she look disappointed?

Ilia shook her head. "Never mind, look at this. Our contacts at Patch Harbor just sent it."

She handed Adam a scroll. On it was a picture of a diverse party of huntsmen. With a very familiar black bow among them.

"Blake," he whispered. "What ship did they board?"

"That's the thing, they split up and boarded two," Ilia informed him. "Blake, the monkey faunus, the pink-eyed boy and the orange-haired girl took the _Cerulean_ heading to the north of the Mistral frontier while the rest boarded the _Celeste_ bound for the south. It makes no sense."

Adam concurred. He walked over to the table that had held the projector and investigated a tactical map he had on it. “With the CCT down, they couldn’t be answering a distress call from the frontier. And if they were after Kotomine or Cinder’s master, then surely, they would seek strength in numbers. Splitting up makes no sense.”

In his mind however, he heard Lancer gasp.

_“Master, please forgive me,' Lancer's voice interrupted, 'but the blonde woman in this image... I recognize her. That is the King of Knights.”_

"What?" Adam exclaimed.

"I said they split up and—"

"No, not you Ilia," he protested. "Lancer, materialize and explain yourself."

_“With all due respect, my lord, I can inform you of our enemy from my current state—"_

"Now Lancer!" Adam shouted. "Don't make me waste a Command Seal on something so trivial."

Reluctantly, Lancer appeared, his head bowed in shame – as he should.

Ilia's eyes locked on to him as soon as he appeared. Adam supposed the materialization trick was a wonder to behold, but they had little time for gawking.

Lancer raised his head, making a noticeable attempt to focus only on Adam. "My lord, as I was saying, I know the blonde woman in this image. She is the King of Knights, Arturia Pendragon, a Saber class Servant."

Adam gazed at the picture again, this time focusing on the hands of those in view. Sure enough, the right hands of both the small girl in the red hood and the blonde boy in ill-fitting armor both had pinprick red smudges on them. They were both masters.

And both were on the ship headed south.

Everything clicked into place.

Blake had trusted the humans and the humans had taken advantage of that trust. They were sending his love out as a decoy to draw off enemy Servants while they snuck their way to Anima. How gutless.

Ilia noted the two masters and looked up at him. "Do we go after them?"

Adam rubbed his chin in thought. "No" he stated firmly. "If it were only one Servant, then we could deal with them easily, but two? I doubt anyone who's earned the title King of Knights is a novice in combat."

"That is true," Lancer concurred. "I have faced few foes of her caliber. Even if our last encounter had concluded properly, I don't know if I would have emerged victorious."

"You've fought her before? What do you mean, Lancer?" Ilia inquired.

Lancer averted his gaze from her, but he did respond. "Her master interfered with our duel by threatening my own lord's wife. Under that influence, he used a Command Seal to force me to end my own life."

Ilia's eyes widened in shock, her hands shooting up to cover her gaping mouth. Adam felt his own fist close. His heart hammered in his chest. The Saber's master was clever, ruthless. Looking at the battle objectively, the move had been brilliant. He himself was no stranger to using a person's loved one as leverage.

But still, to force the Servant to commit suicide…

"This King of Knights, did she know of this plot?" Adam inquired.

Lancer's eyes narrowed. His grip on his spears tightened until his knuckles were white. "I do not know," he confessed. "But she did nothing to stop it. She merely... watched. "

That settled it. If the Servant had collaborated with such a diabolical master, then it stood to reason that the one she served now was no less cunning.

Or uncaring of collateral damage. Either way, that was an opponent not to be underestimated.

"Ilia, gather the men," Adam commanded. "We're heading north. We'll shadow Blake as long as we can on the way to headquarters. With any luck, we can convince her to join us before they reach Haven."

Ilia's eyes hardened, and she nodded. "By your command."

Her gaze drifted back to Lancer, and once more she looked as if she was on the verge of tears. "Lancer, what happened to you before, it wasn't your fault. The people who did this – they'll pay."

Lancer sighed. He still did not look Ilia in the eyes. "Thank you for your kind words, Mistress Ilia."

The chameleon girl gave him a soft smile and then exited the tent.

Lancer turned to Adam. "Master, would it be too much trouble for me to remain in spirit form when Mistress Ilia is present?"

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Why? You always seem uncomfortable in her presence, but are fine in mine. Does her similarities to your kind disgust you so? Is it more difficult to see her as an animal?"

"No, master," Lancer protested. "I have nothing against Mistress Ilia. However, I fear that consistent exposure to me may prove dangerous to both you and her."

"I'm sure," Adam sneered. If the human wanted to make vague excuses, then the issue was better left unexplored. He didn't have time to deal with his prejudice. "This King of Knights, you mentioned that you didn't know if you could beat her in your last encounter. Has that changed at all?"

Lancer bowed formally. "Possibly, my lord. I do not know why I remember the events of my last summoning, but if she does not, I will have foreknowledge of her Noble Phantasm that shall leave her at a distinct disadvantage."

"And if she does remember you?"

"Then I would request that you allow us to conclude our duel as knights should," Lancer replied. He looked to the side, his gaze far away. "As she swore we would."

Was that a note of resentment in his voice?

Adam chuckled. He had done nothing but scorn Lancer since his summoning and, yet this other great hero was the one to incite rage in his Servant. Perhaps their grand stature of virtue only made it all the more crushing when they failed to live up to those standards.

Or maybe they were only human.

Adam shuddered. What a dreadful thing to be.

 

* * *

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Weiss held Myrtenaster in front of her face. She took in a deep breath, focusing all the power within her, and then let it out with a deep sigh. The air split upon the edge of her blade.

She thrust her saber into the floor. A glyph with four swords on it spun before her.

Something pulled within her. It was the same feeling she'd had when she'd saved Velvet from the paladin at Beacon. She felt a call, riving within her. A voice struggling with all its might to have its whisper be heard.

The glyph on the ground in front of her accelerated as it span. A ghostly hilt slowly rose out of the nothingness.

She could almost hear it.

"Hello, sister."

Oh, for the love of…

Weiss' concentration broke, and the glyph disappeared.

She turned to see Whitley standing at her door. He had a condescending look in his eyes and a disgusting smirk on his face.

She did not have time for this. "Leave," she demanded.

"How hurtful," Whitley declared, though the way he nonchalantly rubbed his fingers said otherwise. "And here I am about to offer you a favor. Father's taking me into town to meet some his business partners. I was going to ask if you wanted me to pick you up anything since you're, you know, stuck here."

Weiss didn't even spare him any emotion. She had faced Grimm, terrorists, and whatever the hell that golden man at the tower was. Her little brother, the backstabbing little brat that he was, barely even rated as an annoyance.

"Are you jealous?" she asked him flatly, deciding she might as well get a reason for his continued interference. "Is that it?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Is that why you hate me? Are you jealous of my abilities? Of Winter's?"

Whitley made a show of standing up straight and humming as if in thought. "No," he decided. "No, not really. Honestly, I find it barbaric. It's beneath people like me. Like father. What could a single huntsman do that an army could not? That's why we have one. Even if it is run by a fool."

Weiss' grip on Myrtenaster tightened. General Ironwood was far from perfect, but he did everything he could to help during and after the Fall of Beacon. He was a better man than her father ever was or would be.

This tiny little speck did not have the right to insult him.

"I said, leave!"

Whitley threw his hands up in a placating gesture and narrowed his eyes in distaste. "Fine, fine. I've got better things to do," he proclaimed, as he backed out of the doorway. Glancing at her over his shoulder, he sneered. "Enjoy your…training. However pointless it is."

He started to walk away – and then paused, mid-step. Turning back, he raised a haughty eyebrow. "What is your plan anyway? What do you hope to accomplish while trapped in your own bedroom?"

A gravity glyph slammed the door in his face as an answer

Weiss sighed and recentered herself, bringing her sword back before her face. She observed its edge with a keen eye. What she hoped to accomplish was beyond her little brother's puny traitorous mind. Even if she had felt he was worthy of a response, he probably wouldn't have understood it.

Her glyph flared to life on the floor once more. The power inside her returned, its echo striving to be heard but always falling just too far past silence.

Weiss readied all her focus, all her aura and struck Myrtenaster into the ground.

She remembered Winter's words from their talk at Beacon. She thought of her past enemies, the ones that truly challenged her.

That was… surprisingly difficult. Not that she'd lacked for powerful foes or even to say that she'd been superior to them all, but none had really challenged her.

She'd never doubted for a moment that she would win. Even as she'd felt claws, and bullets, and talons, and even a chainsaw on her aura, she'd never doubted she'd win.

Because she'd known that no matter how badly she'd bleed, no matter how badly she'd hurt, she wasn't alone anymore. She'd had her team. Ruby, Yang, and Blake had always been there to help her when she fell.

She was free.

Which led her to the one foe she'd vanquished before then. When she was still her father's prisoner, his pristine doll of a daughter that he was desperate to keep under his thumb.

To a suit of knight's armor, haunted by a Geist Grimm. The Arma Gigas.

Her father's final test to make her quit her dreams of Beacon. He hadn't expected her to pass.

She'd suffered. She'd scarred. She’d nearly lost an eye.

But she'd persevered, rising above the challenge. And that feeling – that feeling of triumph – filled her, setting her pulse racing, clearing her thoughts, straightening her back.

The glyph before her grew in size, its light flaring in a blinding pulse. Wind sheared through her bedroom like a gale force storm. Books and tables were sent tumbling to the ground. Many minutes passed but to Weiss it was only a moment.

Screams echoed in from outside the room.

The force, the whisper, finally reached its breaking point. The wall blocking it finally crumbled, and a single phrase shot through Weiss' mind like a thunderbolt.

_'My will creates your body.'_

The sigil flashed and for a moment, the wind was a typhoon. The grand windows of her room shattered to pieces.

Weiss stood and gazed upon what she had summoned. Before her was the armor that had nearly taken her eye and her freedom.

Before it had been hard grey steel. Now, it was an ethereal white.

Before it had stood against her. Now, it knelt.

Her father wasn't its master anymore. Just like he was no longer hers.

At that thought, Weiss smiled.

Klein broke through the door. "Ms. Schnee, you have to run—"

He choked on whatever he was going to say next. The Arma Gigas was truly a sight to behold.

Weiss turned to her loyal butler. "Klein, I need a favor."

With her training complete, she had no reason to stay in Atlas. She would sneak out in the middle of the night, find some way out of the kingdom, and head to Mistral to be with Winter.

Other than perhaps her mother, she was the only family she had left.

The Arma Gigas stood up and stomped towards the door. Weiss raised an eyebrow. She didn't give it any orders.

Then the armor raised its massive sword.

Her eyes went wide. "Klein, move!"

It was too late. The familiar brought down its blade and the entire wall came crumbling down. Klein didn't move.

"NO!" Weiss yelled, her hand outstretched.

Yet, as the debris fell on what was once the doorway to her bedroom, Klein's form shimmered out of existence.

Weiss shook her head in shock before taking another look at the scene.

It was horrifying.

In the hallway, lit by the windows to the garden and surrounded by rumble, was Emerald, her friend from Beacon, and a scorpion faunus with an insane grin on his face.

And on the end of his stinger tail, was Klein, his face frozen in agony as he breathed his last breath.

Emerald gaped in shock at her companion. "You were supposed to wait outside! What happened to stealth?"

The faunus shrugged and tossed Klein's corpse out the window behind him. The glass shattered, along with Weiss' heart, as his body was cast into the garden below. "Eh, I got bored."

Weiss' fist tightened around Myrtenaster. Klein had always been there for her. Even when mother and father were at their worst, she could always count on her butler of many faces to put a smile on his happy little snowflake's.

And these two had murdered him and then thrown him away like trash.

"Attack," she growled to her new familiar. The knight raised his sword high above his head and then brought down in a heavy slash. Both Emerald and the scorpion proved agile enough to dodge the blow, but the blade broke the marble floor where it struck.

The scorpion laughed like a madman. "Oh, the Ice Queen thinks she can pass judgment upon us. If only she knew we knelt to only one sovereign!"

"Why couldn't you have just left this to me and Caster?" Emerald roared. She drew her revolvers from her belt and fired off a few shots to keep the ghostly knight at bay.

The scorpion frowned. He leapt over another of the knight's sword swings like it was nothing. "Oh, stop whining, newbie. It's just one little girl."

Weiss gritted her teeth and raised her saber, rage boiling up within her. She'd show them what one little girl could do.

Suddenly, a blizzard blasted through the shattered windows to the garden. The icy winds forced everyone to their knees, even the Arma Gigas.

"What the hell?" Emerald shouted.

Weiss concurred with the sentiment. It was now colder in the mansion then it was outside. What had they done to cause this?

She got her answer when Crystal floated up through the window and into the hall on the wind. Little patches of frost crawled over her skin as her fists curled. Her eyes glowed a frozen, paralyzing blue.

Weiss couldn't remember seeing her mother so furious, even with her father.

The scorpion licked his lips. "Hoo, hoo, hoo, unexpected. But not unwelcome."

Emerald was not nearly as excited. "Ma- Mai- Maiden." She stammered out.

Weiss had no idea what a maiden was. Then again, she didn't know her mother could summon a blizzard. Or, you know... fly.

Crystal glared at Emerald and the scorpion. "Which one of you killed my friend?"

The faunus raised his hand like a hyperactive school child. "Me, that was me, completely me. I got him right in the back. Ha, ha, ha, he never even saw it coming."

A longsword of ice materialized in Crystal's hand, joined swiftly by a shorter blade in the other. A tornado of snow began to swirl around the Schnee matriarch.

"Weiss, darling, can you take care of our other uninvited guest?" she asked, politely. "I should like to deal with this intruder... personally.”

Weiss nodded hesitantly.

“Good,” Crystal snarled. She thrust out her hand, and a blast of winter wrath threw the scorpion faunus out into the gardens where he’d tossed Klein. He’d probably interrupted mother’s drinking.

Either way, she jumped down after him, leaving Weiss alone with Emerald.

Well, not alone. She did have a twelve-foot spectral knight at her command.

She raised her sword at Emerald. "What are you doing here? Why did you kill Klein?" she demanded of her former friend.

The green haired girl shrugged. "Not part of the plan, princess. Tyrian's just a prick. This was supposed to be a simple kidnapping, not a bloodbath." She looked remorseful for a moment. "Not like Beacon."

Weiss' eyebrows shot up. She stalked towards her enemy, her heart pumping so loudly she could hardly hear. "You, you were part of the Fall?"

“Wasn’t the brains of the operation, but I did my part,” Emerald admitted. “Didn’t really understand what I was in for before it was too late.”

Weiss glared at her. "For the sake of the friendship I thought we had, I am going to give you one chance. Surrender, now."

Emerald cocked her head back, grinning like she didn't have a care in the world. "And why would I do that?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, you're just a bit outnumbered."

Emerald chuckled. "Oh, am I?"

A massive purple beam erupted out of nowhere and exploded right in front of Weiss. The blast sent her flying through the air, thankfully being caught by her Arma Gigas.

Still, she stared up at Emerald in absolute shock. How had she fired off an attack that powerful?

Suddenly, the air right next to Emerald shimmered and a slight woman in a purple cloak emerged out of nothingness. Floating five feet in the air!

Emerald smirked. "Caster, meet our resident Ice Queen. Ice Queen, meet the end of the line.”


	19. Duels Amidst the Snow

Whitley sighed contentedly as the limo drove past the mansion's guard post.

Here he was, warm, dressed in a freshly-pressed, fitted suit, being taken by his father to be instructed in the ways of the elite. He would be given everything he would ever need, every tool to ensure his rise to greatness.

It was truly a shame about Weiss. Once upon a time, she had been his favorite sister. True, that was not difficult given that her competition was Winter, who abandoned them both to join the military, but Weiss had shielded him from father's outbursts and mother's stupors. If she had remained as father wished, Whitley thought he would have been fine serving under her at the company.

But then she'd left. Just like Winter.

And all of a sudden, he was alone. Alone with father and mother.

He had had no defender. He bore the brunt of each of their rage, forced to take every shout, every slap. His so-called sisters had run off and left him to his fate. He couldn't follow them. He hadn't been blessed with the family semblance, and even with an unlocked aura, he was mediocre in combat, clumsy with his fists and worse still with a blade.

He had had two choices: suffer, like a common mutt, or... adapt. Survive.

Whitley chose to survive.

So, when father screamed and condemned the terrorist actions of the White Fang, Whitley had screamed with him. When father had been disenchanted by a backstabbing business rival, Whitley had offered himself as a sounding board for ideas of vengeance. Where father chose to rage, Whitley raged. Where father chose to pity, Whitley pitied.

Where Weiss and Winter had run, Whitley adapted.

And soon, father rewarded his efforts.

Being called to the office soon was not a trial by fire, but a lesson in decorum – in grit. Father did not shout or demean him, but put a firm hand on his shoulder and carefully taught him how to survive the world they lived in. All his rage had been an initiation test, a ruse, one crafted to see if he had been worthy of his father's wisdom... of the legacy of the Schnee family.

It delighted Whitley to no end that he was the only one of his siblings to pass.

He would be the one to take the family name to new heights. His time would come. And once Weiss was home, he only needed to wait until her own stupidity gave father an excuse to throw her away like the roadblock she was.

Really, he was impressed she lasted as long as she did. He expected her to lose her temper far sooner; regardless, she had given him everything he wanted, and now, everything was as it should be. His sisters were disinherited, his father praised him, and he had gotten everything he deserved.

He had won.

"Keep your wits about you, my boy," father ordered. "These men are crucial business partners for when you take over the company, but they are not to be trusted. Give them any sign of weakness and they'll tear you apart like a pack of Beowolves. So, get that damned look off your face!"

"Yes, father," Whitley replied, immediately schooling his face into an impassive expression. After all, Jacques Schnee only asked nicely once.

The patriarch gave a stern nod of approval – but his frown deepened as the car began to slow.

"What are you doing?" father inquired hotly, sparing an irritated glance at the driver.

"There's - there's someone in the road, sir," the man stammered.

"Well, his stupidity isn't an excuse if we're late to the meeting. Keep going!"

The driver, nodding reluctantly, eased off the brake. Snow crunched beneath the limousine's tires as it accelerated.

Curious, Whitley peered out the window. Up ahead, shadowed heavily by the limo's headlights, was a tall, bulky brute of a man. He stood perfectly still in the middle of the snowing road.

Whitley shook his head, his brow furrowed with disdain. What sort of person would stand in the middle of the road like that? Probably some imbecile lumberjack had a bit too much to drink on the job. Oh well, he should have known better.

"Mr. Schnee, he's not moving," the driver added, his voice strained. "We really should—"

"I don't pay you to tell me what I should do!" father yelled. "I am not responsible for some fool of a man who—"  
  
Bang!

Suddenly, the entire car jerked forward, as if tugged by a giant; Whitley's head snapped forward before it crashed back into the authentic leather headrest. Stars swam behind his eyes, and he brought a hand to his head, wincing.

"What the hell?" Father exclaimed. "What's going on!?"

"Sir, something's wrong!"

The whole limo rose into the air. Whitley began to float above his seat, his entire body feeling lighter than he could ever remember. He flailed wildly, desperate for some form of control. He managed to make his way to the window, where he once more gazed upon the bulky man, now several feet below them.

He was looking at them.

That was it. There was no malice in his stare, but no sorrow or dread either. There was no fury, no emotion. He simply stood in the road with his hand outstretched, and looked at them.

For Whitley, who had lived in the emotional powder keg of the Schnee household all his life, there was nothing more terrifying.

The man's hand fell to his side - and the limo plummeted back to the ground.  
  
Crash!

Bulletproof windows, a luxury of the rich, shattered like fine china. The roof, made of reinforced metal, crumpled like a tin can. Father let out a pained curse, gripping at his seat like a lifeline.

The new Schnee heir saw only darkness.

 

* * *

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Tyrian leaped off some dumb looking plant just in time to avoid an icicle to the brain. All around him, wind howled and snow soared, raking across his limbs like the talons of an angry god.

"Stay still, you bastard!" Crystal Schnee roared, as her frozen swords passed by, inches from his throat.

Tyrian rolled away from the strike. In her blind rage, all the mad woman had managed to do was give her cactus a preening.

The servant of Salem couldn't help laughing. This was a maiden, a symbol of power, something he was supposed to fear? No – this was nothing more than a sluggish drunk! Unlike the Fall child that Cinder went after, this old crone was sloppy, slow. He could run rings around her easily. Hell, the only reason he hadn't gone in for the kill already was that he couldn't get past the damn blizzard she'd conjured around herself.

Tyrian licked his lips. If he couldn't get past her guard, he'd just need to get her to drop it. Which meant mind games! Oh, he preferred the stabby, stabby type of pain immensely, but he couldn't deny that the mistress' specialty had a certain charm to it. He just wasn't very good at it.

That's why he practiced so much on everyone else!

And with how the witch and the newbie had been responding, he seemed to have improved quite a bit.

"So, the Winter Maiden has been Crystal Schnee all along," he taunted, ducking another sheet of ice. He repelled back up with a psychotic grin on his face. "That's quite impressive, really. Laughing while you hide in plain sight, taunting the Queen as you hid in your dear daddy's shadow. Hell, you even put up a flashing neon sign when you named your eldest daughter!"

"Stop talking and die!" Crystal shouted. She threw out her hands and a dozen daggers of ice formed in the air. With a flick of her wrist, they all went flying towards her foe.

Tyrian rolled his eyes and nonchalantly extended his pincers, exposing their submachine gun form. He flung his arms out and shattered the incoming volley with a barrage of bullets.

"The audacity is truly enthralling! And to think we'd find you by accident in the end!" Tyrian laughed.

Crystal stopped. The blizzard surrounding her slowed. Her eyes were wide in confusion. "You're not here for me?" she muttered.

"Nope!" Tyrian chortled. He seized the Schnee woman's moment of distraction and leapt towards her like a rocket. She barely had the sense to raise her swords to parry his strike.

By that point, though, he was inside her guard - and he intended to stay that way. She could strike him at a distance with her powers, but he was much more effective in close-quarters; relentlessly, he thrust forward again and again with his pincers, each blow getting closer and closer to breaking her defenses.  
  
Then, it happened. Drunk as she was, she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings; she'd been so focused on fending off Tyrion's attacks that she'd let him back her into a corner. Her back struck a drooping palm tree, and she let out a surprised gasp, and the sound made him shiver with delight. Racing forward, he lunged for her throat, his blades gleaming in the starlight.  
  
Crystal's eyes widened, and she stumbled sideways, the blades missing her by a hair's breadth. Rolling over the ground, she struck the hard-packed snow with an open palm; spikes of ice emerged from the earth, lashing out at Tyrion like a pair of viper's fangs. The scorpion faunus was forced to disengage, leaping away as the ice crashed at his feet.

Tyrian rose to his full height. In a fit of madness, he laughed.

Crystal panted heavily, before staggering to her feet. Despite her obvious fatigue, the glare in her eyes was undiminished. Slowly, she steadied herself, and reached out with a hand; the blizzard entered her control, before swirling around her like a protective cloak.

That just made Tyrian laugh harder.

"Ah! So, so close. I enjoy the show, maiden, I truly do, but how long can you keep this up?"

Crystal let out a slow breath, and her anger cooled; straightening her back, she gave him a glare as cold as her namesake. As she did, the wind picked up, whipping her hair about her head like a halo; it began to howl, like an ever-distant train, beating his eardrums into submission. He grimaced as the wind buffeted him back, sending him sliding across the ice.

Reaching down with a hand, he pawed at the earth – and found purchase on a glowing metal grate, winding his hand through the bars. Holding himself in place, he raised his gun, and fired a shot.  
  
Crystal batted it away with the back of her blades.

"You assume," she spat, shouting over the wind, "that just because you've tangled with a few of Ozpin’s new recruits, you can beat me. I've been a maiden for over twenty-five years, you bug... and while a great deal of that time was spent trying to drink myself into an early grave, not all of it was."

Tyrian grunted, his tail twitching in agitation. "And your point is?".  
  
"In becoming the Winter Maiden, I gave up a lot of things. I gave up my company, to stay out of the public eye. I gave up my children." Crystal snarled, stalking forward. "And in return, I picked up on a few... extracurriculars, to pass the time. These gardens, for example, are my crowning achievement.”

The clouds above crackled with electricity.

Glaring at Tyrion, she lowered her blades; they disappeared in motes of frost. "Do you know how much fire dust is needed to grow Vacuoan Palm trees here?"  
  
Crystal pointed at Tyrion's feet – and at the grate, the heating duct, with the blazing orange glow beneath it, gripped within his hand.  
  
She snapped her fingers.

A lightning bolt came down beside him.  
  
There was an explosion, a blinding flash of light that seared Tyrion's eyes and wiped his mind of all rational thought. Distantly, he heard a pained scream – and realized it was his own. He lost all sense of direction as he tumbled through the storm, suffering from the aftereffects of being at the center of a man-made thunderstorm. His aura had long since shattered, disappearing with an anticlimactic pop.   
  
His back struck the earth. Something snapped, and pain lanced through his shoulder.

  
Grimacing, Tyrion pushed himself to his knees – when, suddenly, his arms and legs were encased in solid shackles of ice. Hesitantly, he raised his gaze – only to see a pair of piercing, glowing, eyes glaring down at him, and a pair of ice-forged swords resting at his throat.

"You should not have killed my friend," she said.

It was strange. Even then -bound, beaten, and about to die, having accomplished little to nothing for his goddess - Tyrian Callows could not help but laugh.

 

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Emerald didn't intend to laugh. Really, she didn't.

But watching the Ice Queen go from cocky bitch to deer in the headlights as soon as Caster showed up? It was just too funny.

A glowing purple ring rose above Caster. "Should I finish this, master?"

Emerald chuckled, giving her kama a quick spin. The motion was smooth, familiar – and with it came a feeling of anticipation. "That reinforcement you used on me, is it still on?"

"Yes," Caster replied.

"Hmm... in that case, why don't we have some fun before we go?"

Caster frowned. "Master, Tyrian can only hold off that mage for so long. Should we drag this out, he may fail."

Emerald shrugged. "Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Either way, I've had one hell of a week. I need this."

She really did. Between Cinder's death, having Salem and the war dropped on her, and Tyrian himself, she was going to break down if she didn't get some kind of release. And what was a better release that cutting a rich bitch down to size?

"Hey, Ice Queen," she called to Weiss, whose giant spectral knight was now setting her on the floor. "Now that I think about, you and I never had a one on one fight at Beacon. Care to see how you stack up against the best?"

Behind her, she heard Caster sigh. "Really, master? Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?"

Weiss herself glared. She raised her sword and pointed at Emerald. "Get her."

The knight spirit charged forward, faster than before. Emerald probably wouldn't have been able to dodge it like she had before.

Lucky, she wasn't planning to.

Emerald crossed her kama and held them above her head. The knight's massive sword came down and struck her defenses with the force of an Ursa Major. The marble floor cracked beneath her feet.

The turquoise lines of Caster's reinforcement flashed across her entire body. Her muscles screamed in agony as they strained to hold back the attack. Her crimson eyes narrowed in absolute concentration.

But she didn't break. A smirk split Emerald's lips, one she savored.

Eventually, the ghostly warrior had to retract its blade. Emerald took the opportunity to switch her weapons to revolver mode and fired a barrage that forced the knight a few steps back.

_'Caster, if you will?'_

The knight raised its sword for another strike when a massive purple beam tore right through it. Instantly, the once imposing specter faded into nothing. The being that had torn down the wall beside them, strewing its rubble across the floor, gone in a moment.  
  
Caster nonchalantly dissipated the mystical ring that had fired the blast. "Do try to control your bravado, master. Reinforcement is hardly a trump card, and we have more opponents than just the one in front of us."

"Yeah, I may have been channeling Mercury a bit there," Emerald admitted, shaking her head. She had gotten so caught up in the power boost her Servant gave her that she'd forgotten what she'd learned a long time ago. A thief that basked in their work was a thief that was still around to get caught.

"Still, it was your magic, so it wasn't like I had anything to worry about," she confided in the purple cloaked woman.

Caster cleared her throat, glancing away. "Y-yes. Thank you for your confidence, master. Nevertheless, I recommend we conclude this business as soon as possible."

"Probably a good idea," Emerald decided. She turned back to Weiss. "Hey, Ice Queen! You sure you don't want to come quietly?"

Weiss didn't appear to have heard her. Her ice blue eyes were frozen to the spot her knight had once occupied. They were wide with disbelief. Her saber hand shook with dread. Slowly, the heiress turned to Caster, an expression of horror on her face.

"Wh-... What are you?" she muttered.

Emerald chuckled. "Like I said, Ice Queen, she's the end of the line – for you, anyway. Nothing you pull out can stop her. So, I'm going to ask nicely one more time, are you going to come quietly?"

The heiress' body stopped shaking. Her eyes glanced around the rubble littering the floor from when her knight had smashed through the wall. Then, they narrowed into slits focused solely on Emerald.

She spun the dust cartilage on her saber's hilt, and with an elegant flourish, she drew her sword. Settling into a ready stance, she fixed Emerald with a heated glare. "Not on your life, brigand!"

Emerald rolled her eyes; for all of Weiss' bravado, the fear beneath was plain to see.   
  
"Really? Brigand?" She asked, sighing. "Yang would be so disappointed in you. You know, if she was conscious."

In response, Weiss summoned a line of glyphs, lashing out at her opponent with spikes of ice. They hurtled through the air like cannonballs, whistling as they spliced the air.

Emerald sneered, dashing forward.  
  
Defeating Weiss would be simple. After all, one of the first things she'd learned from Cinder was the art of deception. All she had to do was maintain the Schnee heiress in her line of sight; activating her semblance, she painted the illusion that she was approaching from a position two meters to her left. Every time Weiss fired an ice shard, the illusory copy moved in turn, dipping and dodging like a ballet dancer; little did Weiss know that the real danger was far from harm, moving ever-closer, unabated and uncontested.  
  
As Emerald's illusory copy closed the distance between them, Weiss changed tactics. Stabbing into the tile with her rapier, she summoned a black glyph before replacing it with yet another white one. Ice crackled to life, spreading out from the point of impact, covering the entire floor in a thin sheet.  
  
Still, Emerald was not deterred. Her footing might have been lost, but her head wasn't. As the Schnee heiress continued to fire at her, she leapt into the air, leaping between the ice shards and the rubble of the wall, using them to propel her forward. Such feats of dexterity would normally be beyond even her, but Caster's reinforcement had made them possible, allowing her to dance between the moving objects. The feeling of power, of invincibility, brought a sultry grin to her face.  Weiss was already beaten – she just didn't know it.

Finally, she reached the end of the hall and dived down at the heiress, her kama ready to strike. Weiss must have sensed something at the last moment, a movement in the air maybe, because she hastily raised her sword, deflecting Emerald's strike with a slapdash parry. Emerald streaked past, but not without biting sharply into Weiss' aura; the girl grimaced as she was spun by the force of the blow.

In a desperate attempt to get some breathing room from her opponent's merciless strength, Weiss threw up a wind glyph in front of herself, throwing Emerald back several feet. Still, Emerald refused to let up; her weapons switched to their pistol variant, and she let loose a quick burst of gunshots at the heiress.

A line of glyphs flared along the wall, and Weiss rode them up and away from the gunfire. She flipped as she jumped off the structure and once more put Emerald between her and the field of ice. Another wind glyph sent Emerald skidding on her back along the smooth rink.

Grimacing, Emerald dropped to her knees – and then, she noticed something: a shadow, beneath the ice.  
  
"Master! Above you!" Caster called.  
  
She glanced up, and her eyes widened in shock. Above her, the entirety of Weiss’ ice barrage and the stone remnants of the wall floated high up in the air. She smashed the ice beneath her feet and saw what the shadow really was.

A black gravity glyph.  


Weiss let out a victorious shout, and made a swiping motion with her rapier.  
  
And as she did, the dots connected.   
  
Weiss knew she wouldn't be able to strike Emerald, not conventionally; she’d seen Emerald's strength against her knight, and so she'd improvised, planning around it. Those initial shots she'd made were little more than decoys, throwaway shots that gave her more ammunition to work with while she hid her gravity glyph under the rink. In the end, she'd managed to forge a literal rain of ice and stone, relying on the element of surprise to overwhelm and crush her opponent.

Emerald gazed up at the Weiss, who wore a proud smirk on her face. "You clever bitch."

“I know.”

A bolt of lightning crashed down in the gardens.

Weiss stabbed her rapier into the ground, point first. The black glyph, floating beneath the ice, disappeared. In its absence, her collection of ice shards and rubble found itself without any support and the plummeted to the ground.  


Letting out a frustrated grunt, Emerald moved. Ducking forward, she crouched, throwing her kama up into the air.  
  
She had to admit, Weiss was more than a stuck up rich kid. She had grit. She had smarts and she had flair. But Emerald had that too – and unlike this Schnee princess, who was born with a silver spoon, she had to work for what she'd had. She'd earned her stripes the hard way, and yet, she still had leagues to go before she would be satisfied. In order to get there, she had to finish her mission - to please Salem, to win the grail.

Emerald would have her wish, and no heiress would stand in her way.  
  
She'd make sure of it.

 

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Weiss lowered her rapier, forcing her shaking limbs to relax. Ice fell away from her in large chunks, shattering to powder as it struck the tile floor. Her improvised barrier had shielded her from the attack’s impact, but it didn't save her lungs; she panted hard as the dust of her attack settled. She choked on the debris in the air, bursting out into a fit of coughing as her chest lit on fire. 

Gods, what she'd just done was something out of Ruby's playbook. Maybe the girl's insanity had rubbed off on her.

Still, while her assault hadn't been the most elegant strategy, it had gotten the job done. She had never seen Emerald in combat, so she didn't know if the girl had always been so insanely strong or if the power was a recent development. Without any known limitations, she’d had to go all out. And then there was her companion.

Weiss had seen Winter use summons a dozen times before, and she had never seen anything capable tearing through them like the cloaked woman's beam had. What had that been anyway? Some kind of semblance? But then how had she stayed invisible? Or floated?

Weiss was barely comprehending what was happening. Klein was dead. Mother was fighting some insane faunus. And now a former school acquaintance was trying to kill her with the help of a mysterious woman who could fire laser beams!

Honestly, it put the rest of her time at home in perspective – and she felt ashamed that she very much preferred the current situation.

It was terrible to admit, but even with her beloved butler dead and she and her mother fighting for their lives, Weiss felt alive for the first time since Beacon.

This was what she was good at. Fighting evil, facing impossible odds, it made her feel alive. Not being dressed up like some porcelain doll and abused by foes she couldn’t strike. She was a huntress, and this was her hunting ground.

More than that, she owed this fight to Pyrrha and Ruby. Emerald was the last remaining member of Team CKSM other than Kirei himself. If anyone would know where the bastard was hiding away, it would be her. If she could take her alive, it would be the first step to avenging her friend.

She glanced at the pile, more mountain really, of rubble. Digging Emerald out of that would not be easy. She took a step forward – only to pause.

A shift in the wind put Weiss on edge. She looked up at the top of the pile and raised her sword.

The cloaked woman floated above the peak of the rubble and gazed down at Weiss. Or, at least she seemed to. Her hood hid her eyes from Weiss' view. Lit by the flickering light from the fire in the garden, she looked like an evil witch from one of Ruby's fairy tales.

Still, Weiss couldn't afford to show weakness. Her muscles protested, but she raised her sword at the woman. "Would you like a turn, Ms. End of the Line?"

The robed stranger chuckled at her taunt. "My, my, don't you have… what is the modern term? Spunk? Though your little ploy was amusing, you cannot hope to challenge a true mage like me. Your little sigils are nothing but parlor tricks against one such as I."

Weiss frowned. She had just spent a lot of time around her father and his ilk and she had learned the difference between meaningless bluster and the kind that could be backed up. It frightened her a great deal that this woman was the latter.

"Parlor tricks, huh?" she spat. "Worked well enough on your little friend, didn't they?"

The woman grinned. "My master requested a one on one duel with you. I assure you, if she hadn't, your glyphs would have been even less effective than they already were."

"Even less?" Weiss muttered. That didn't sound good.

"Oh, dear. It seems I've spoiled the surprise," the woman pouted with dramatic exaggeration. "Please forgive me master."

"I’m a little busy right now!" Emerald's voice rang out.

Weiss' eyes went wide, and she feverishly whirled around in a circle. Emerald's voice seemed to echo around from everywhere. She couldn't figure out where she was coming from. Surely, she couldn't have escaped the landfall.

Suddenly, Emerald flashed into existence out of thin air, swinging around in the air by a chain lodged in the roof. On the end of said chain was her kama.

Faster than Weiss could comprehend, the green haired girl threw out her other chained kama, which wrapped around Weiss' waist and shoulder. With a hard yank, Weiss was pulled to the ground while the momentum allowed Emerald to leap over her head.

Weiss struggled to get up but felt a hail of bullets rake the back of her aura. Each hurt like the sting of a belt buckle, and with how much she had been using her semblance for first summoning practice and then the fight, she was lucky she got off that easy.

A brief reprieve in the gunfire allowed her to get to her feet, but by the time she turned around, Emerald had already rushed in close, raining down slash after slash with her blades.

Weiss frantically raised her sword to survive the melee onslaught like before, but her movements were sluggish. She'd burned the last of her energy shielding herself from the falling rubble storm, but Emerald didn't appear any worse for wear. Before long, the heiress had her back to the wall, and a final strike relived her of Myrtenaster.

Weiss sank to her knees, out of breath and out of ideas. She tried to summon one last glyph beneath her feet. Maybe if she could just get some distance—

Emerald kicked her hard in the face and drove her to the ground. The glyph faded into nothingness.

"Ah ah ah," Emerald tutted. "None of that, Ice Queen. Caster, the cuffs if you please?"

"Of course, master."

The woman removed a pair of heavy handcuffs from her robes, the type meant to restrain huntsmen and other people with aura. Emerald took them and slapped them on Weiss, trapping her hands behind her back.

The heiress collapsed as the vitality boost she had been receiving from her aura disappeared. A tear welled in her eye as she realized what this meant.

She had lost. Despite giving it everything she had, she had lost.

"There, no more glyphs for you," Emerald declared. She picked up the discarded Myrtenaster and tossed it to her companion. "You did work your magic on them, right? No chance she's going to slip out?"

The woman caught Weiss' sword and stowed it away in her cloak. "Of course, master. I boosted those restraints as much as I could without destroying them. Though if you would I allow me to construct wholly mystical bonds, I would be able to assure you for certain."

"Eh, maybe later. These'll do for now." Emerald leaned down to Weiss' level and smirked in her face. "Don't get too antsy on the trip, will you Ice Queen. Can't have you anymore damaged than you need to be."

"What do you want with me?" Weiss growled. Defeated and disarmed, she could at least learn why.

Emerald stood up again, enjoying towering over the heiress. Weiss noted the red tattoos on her right hand. Had she had those at Beacon?

"Me, personally? Nothing," she revealed. "But my boss, that's another story."

"Kirei," Weiss snarled. "You're talking about Kirei, aren't you? He's the one pulling the strings, the one who -"

Emerald's face lit up with fury. She wrenched Weiss to her feet with one hand and slapped her in the face with the other. "Say that bastard’s name, one more time! I dare you, rich girl! Say it one more—"

"Master!" Caster shouted.

From the window to the garden, a blizzard crashed into the hall. Hail and snow buffeted Weiss' skin, now far more vulnerable without her aura to shield it. Was winter always this cold?

Caster thrust out her hands and a sudden gust cleared the storm from view.

In the hall, Weiss' mother stood over the scorpion faunus from before. A thick stalactite of ice pierced through his entire chest.

Any other time, the image would be terrifying, but this was the monster who had killed Klein and Weiss needed help badly at the moment.

"Mother!" she called out.

Emerald smacked a hand over her mouth and held a kama to her throat.

Crystal whipped her head to face them and her eyes went wide with absolute rage. A thousand icicle spears materialized in the air around her. "Get away from my daughter, you bitch!"

The barrage of icicles launched.

"Caster!" Emerald screamed.

The purple cloaked woman leapt down from the mound of rubble and sprouted dozens of glowing circles in the air. Each one fired a violet laser that collided with the icicles in midair, canceling the barrage out.

Crystal's wrath didn't die. Instead, her eyes narrowed. Miniature blizzards began to spiral in the palms of her hands. "A Servant? The Queen means to take my daughter with a Servant! She won't. I refuse—"

A dome of purple energy suddenly encased Crystal. She froze in mid-sentence, the storms in her hands unmoving despite their rage.

Weiss didn't understand what had happened. Apparently, neither did Emerald.

"Um, what did you just do?" she asked her companion.

Caster smirked. "Just a little advanced magecraft. Not even a Servant of the three Knight classes can move when space itself is frozen around them." A large circle rose in front of her face and glowed purple. "This 'maiden' is hardly the challenge the Queen warned us of. I suppose we should remove her so the woman won’t complain."

"No!" Weiss yelled. She tried to break away and tackle the cloaked woman, but Emerald's grip was too strong.

The clouds above crackled, however.

Suddenly, a trio of lightning bolts crashed through the hall's few remaining windows, the shockwave sending Weiss, Emerald, and even Caster flying.

With the witch's concentration broken though, the violet dome trapping Crystal shattered. The woman took a deep breath once free.

Her eyes glowed a sparkling blue. "The Queen fears us for a reason, hero. And you're about to learn it."

The mansion began to quake. Bits of the veranda crumbled into the blazing garden below. The tumultuous sky thundered with barely restrained power.

Weiss recalled that some referred to dust as 'nature's wrath'.

If this maiden thing was beyond dust, what did that make Crystal Schnee?

"Caster!" Emerald shouted. "We're leaving! Bury her!"

"No!" Weiss cried, but her green-haired captor dragged her away and over the mound of rubble.

Once more, Caster summoned glowing circles of power, four large ones this time. From them, she fired off four massive pulses of light at the roof and floor of the Schnee mansion. Each pillar of light tore into the architecture and with the maiden's power already destabilizing the area, the entire building started to collapse.

Crystal tried to fly away on the winds, but Caster refocused her fire on her. Protecting herself from the witch's assault prevented her from seeing the threat from above, and the crumbling roof fell on Weiss' mother and dragged her down to join the rubble.

Caster ran back and took Emerald in her arms, and by extension Weiss. She leapt off the ground and soon the three women were flying through the air, streaking away into the raging clouds.

Weiss looked back as they rose into the sky.

There was the Schnee family mansion, the place she had called home for seventeen years. She had seen it from the air once before, on the family bullhead. The multitude of lights in every room, shining off the pristine white walls had made the place look joyous and festive, even if it rarely was.

Now, it was a ruin. The light was the fire in the garden, likely having spread to the wings of the house. The walls, once pristine and white, were black and darkened with soot and smoke. The entire building was slowly crumbling to the ground. In some ways, it was a far more accurate representation of what had happened there.

And yet, for the sake of the little happiness that had lived there, for mother and Klein and Winter and the countless kind servants who had made her prison just a bit brighter, Weiss couldn't help but cry.


	20. The End of the Beginning

Ironwood rubbed a hand down his face.

_‘First Beacon, now this?’_

He sat in a plastic chair in a stainless white hospital room. Atlas Emergency Services had taken too long in responding to the crisis at Schnee Mansion, though in their defense, the estate was farther away from the city than they could get to in any timely manner.

It had only gotten worse when there was a car wreck in the middle of the main road. The only person found at the site was apparently the Schnee’s limo driver. He told the authorities that a large man had used some sort of gravity semblance to destroy the vehicle, then pulled him out and kidnapped Jacques and his son.

The police had put an APB out on the attacker, but Ironwood knew they wouldn’t find anything. The semblance alone told him the assailant’s identity, and Hazel Rainart wasn’t going to be caught by common officers of the law.

In any case, his presence on the road meant that someone else was responsible for the chaos at the mansion. According to the lone survivor, said person was an insane scorpion faunus, thankfully now deceased, and a huntress with green hair and red eyes. All likely working for the Queen if their taking of Weiss Schnee was aligned with Hazel’s kidnapping of the men.

Crystal Schnee finished giving her statement to the police and then laid back in her hospital bed. Her injuries were severe, third-degree burns on her thighs and chest, and a crushed right leg. Without her aura, she would not have survived the ordeal.

When the policeman left the room, Ironwood sighed. “Crystal, I am so—”

“Save your apologies, Jimmy darling, this wasn’t your fault” Crystal spat. “What you need to tell me is where my children are?”

The general gulped. “Winter was on a scouting mission for me in Mistral. Given recent events, I called her back here this morning. She should arrive in a few days. As for Weiss and Whitley, the Queen has taken them. Why, we do not know. Perhaps leverage to coerce you into giving them the relic?”

“No” she replied. “No, they didn’t know I was a maiden. This can’t have been about that, they were after Weiss. They sent a Servant to capture my daughter.”

Ironwood’s eyes widened. “She has a master under her thrall?”

“The green haired girl had Command Seals on her hand and a purple cloaked witch with more magic than I’ve seen in a long time” Crystal informed him. Her fists curled in rage. “I’ll paint the Grimmlands with the bitch’s blood for this.”

Ironwood held out a placating hand. “This still doesn’t make sense. Assuming you’re right, and Jacques and Whitley are just leverage, what is so important about Weiss that the Queen would risk revealing her master to get her?”

Crystal looked down to her blankets, humming in thought. It took several moments, but eventually her eyes widened in realization. “The Servant at the mansion was Caster. Generally, they are considered the weakest class of Heroic Spirit. What if Salem doesn’t think her little pawn can win the war?”

“How would taking Weiss help her do that?”

“Father always theorized our family’s abilities had some connection to the Grail. He and Ruler performed several experiments on the matter before—”

Crystal shook her head to dislodge the memory. She started moving to get out of bed. Ironwood rushed over to hold her down.

“What are you thinking?” he demanded.

“The Queen wants to experiment on my daughter. I won’t let that happen. I’ll storm the Grimmlands myself!” Crystal declared.

“You can’t just charge in. Caster already defeated you once, and she’s not even going to be the greatest danger there” Ironwood reminded her. “With your injuries, it will be months before you can even stand, let alone fight.”

The Schnee matriarch calmed down but glared at the general. “What about your little pet project? Do I need to be able to fight to give it the power it needs?”

Ironwood stood back in shock. He had hoped to gain her assistance when he’d last seen her, but that was under very different circumstances. “The process isn’t an easy one,” he told her. “Transferring the maiden’s power into a mechanical system will put enormous strain on your body. Doing so in your condition would be fatal--”

“James” she spoke solemnly. He listened immediately. She didn’t call him Jimmy or darling.

“Can your girl save my children?”

He nodded.

“Then damn the consequences.”

Ironwood stared at the white-haired woman. The daughter of one of his greatest mentors. One of his dearest childhood friends. A poor soul who gave up everything, her company, her happiness, even her children, to protect a burden she never wanted.

“We’ll wait until you’ve healed enough to walk. That’s not an argument.” He declared when she’d opened her mouth to do just that. “It will take me a few months to rally the support P-2 will need for the assault anyway. It’s not just Caster that will be waiting for her.”

The Grimmlands were not lacking in their namesake by any means. There were more terrifying variants of the monsters there than Ironwood could imagine. Qrow’s reports had not been lacking on that account.

Then of course there was Hazel. And the Queen herself.

“No strike team will be able to sneak into her world. When we do this, it will be an all-out invasion.”

“And do you think my children will survive while you mobilize your toys?” Crystal sneered.

Ironwood couldn’t meet her eyes. “We can only pray.”

 

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****

Weiss was pushed to her knees in the dark castle throne room. The big brute, Hazel, tossed her father and brother beside her, both of them cuffed as she was.

Her father didn’t stay down for long. “Unhand me this instant!” he blustered. “Where are we? Who on Remnant are you people?”

Emerald and Caster walked in from the hall. Both of them seemed tenser than they were at the mansion. Weiss understood somewhat, the place they had been transported to looked a lot like how she imagined hell would be. A land with no sun and a red sky, overflowing with endless hordes of Grimm. Not to mention, the black castle they’d been brought to wasn’t the most welcoming of structures.

But still, this was supposedly their territory, what had them so on edge?

“Whoever you are, you are fools!” Her father declared. “Do you think this crime will go unpunished? I am Jacques Schnee! All of Atlas will come down on your head—”

“Sir.”

With that single word, Weiss’ spine shot up straight. She didn’t know why, but that voice prompted something deep within her to tremble in terror.

As if she needed more proof, her father, her cunning, ruthless, hardheaded bastard of a father stopped his shouting and stared at the massive doors to the throne room, shock and fear written all over his face.

Weiss followed his eyes and saw a tall woman in a black gown glide into the room. Her skin and hair were milk white, her eyes a burning hateful red. Her movement was graceful, elegant to the utmost, but her presence filled Weiss with dread like nothing else she’d ever encountered.

The woman passed her father without a second look and took a seat on the black crystal throne. “I would prefer if you would contain your pointless shouting. There are young ears present.”

The casual request put Jacques off guard and he stuttered for a moment before glaring at the woman. “I take it you are the one in charge of this rabble, madam. If you wished for a meeting, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble. As it stands, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that is satisfactory for all.”

The woman on the throne chuckled. It was a light laugh, like one a carefree school girl should have. Coming from this demon woman, it was the creeping chill of a nightmare.

“A generous offer” she humored him. “However, I have no interest with you, Mr. Schnee. Nor your son. I’m afraid the two of you are here for the influences of your presence more than anything I actually require of you.”

She turned her gaze to Weiss. The heiress’ blood turned to ice under her stare. “Your daughter, on the other hand, her I have business with.”

“Weiss?” Whitley muttered fearfully. She spared him a brief glance.

Gone was the snobbish pomposity and upper-crust arrogance. Whitley’s eyes were wide with terror and his lip quivered fearfully. It reminded Weiss that for all he had done to her, her brother was still just a child. A child that had been dragged into a horror unlike anything he had ever imagined.

Her father, on the other hand, glared at the woman. “That’s preposterous. My daughter has no claim to the family assets—”

“It amuses me that you can see all this and still think I care for something as insignificant as wealth” she growled. “Hazel, take these good men to their cells in the dungeon. If they refuse to be silent, gag them. We can’t have them disturbing the Nevermores during nesting season.”

The big man picked up her father and brother both by their handcuffs and carried them off, her father protesting all the way.

“Caster, please remove our guest’s restraints?”

The woman in the purple cloak waved her hand and Weiss’ handcuffs fell from her wrists.

“Excellent,” the white-skinned woman praised. A wide smile adorned her lips. “Emerald, you and your Servant have done magnificently. Despite Tyrian’s disappointing performance and Crystal’s little surprise, you both completed this task with flying colors.”

“Thank you, your grace” Emerald bowed. Caster’s face remained distrustful, but she folded too after a nudge from Emerald. “What else would you have of us?”

“For now, rest,” the woman told them. “Train, grow closer together. Your next mission may not be for some time and I don’t want you to become idle.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Good. Now, please leave us.”

Emerald bowed again, and she and Caster exited the throne room, shutting the massive doors behind them with a clang.

Now, it was just Weiss and the demon woman.

The heiress hesitantly rose and rubbed her chaffed wrists. “So, I take it you’re the Queen that Emerald mentioned?”

“You may call me Salem for now, my dear” The woman informed her with a smile.

“Of course,” Weiss remarked. Her eyes nervously shifted around the dark room. Its ceiling ran tall, suspending a large chandelier of violet crystal. Outside on the hillside, packs of Beowolves roamed freely and howled at the broken moon. “Well, I can’t say much for your taste in real estate, Salem.”

Maybe if she could unbalance the woman with a few of her usual barbs, then she could figure out what the hell was going on.

“Really?” Salem mused, feigning interest. “I admit it’s rather dreary at times, but I happen to think it suits me well.”

“Yeah, well, I’d hate to deal with all those Grimm outside if someone gets angry.”

“Oh, the Grimm are no problem” Salem assured her. “They know better than to enter their mother’s home without permission.”

Weiss’ heart skipped a beat. “I beg your pardon” she began cautiously, “but what do you mean by mother?”

“I am the one who gave them life” Salem explained. “I am their creator. The creator of all Grimm, since the species was born.”

Weiss’ hands slammed into the floor, a white glyph roaring to life before her, flickering a dim light against the room’s oppressive shadows.

This might be foolish, but if what this woman said was true, and honestly, Weiss hadn’t exactly seen much reason to doubt her, then she was responsible for the greatest plague to ever curse mankind. Every innocent civilian, every unlucky huntsman, every one of her classmates that died at the Fall of Beacon.

It was all her fault.

And Weiss would make her pay.

Her giant white knight sprang to life and immediately raised its sword on the Queen. It was barely a moment before the massive blade was streaking towards her neck.

Salem didn’t move. From within her flowing black gown, a squirming tentacle of some…black mud shot out and caught the knight’s sword before it could reach its mistress.

Then, it… bled into it? Weiss couldn’t think of another way to describe the scene. The tentacle’s riving black mass soaked into her familiar. It corrupted the warrior bit by bit, and soon her mighty phantasm had faded to nothing.

Weiss could only stare in horror. First Caster, now this? What hellish world had she been sucked into?

Salem clapped enthusiastically. “Marvelous, simply marvelous. To think you only spent a year at Ozpin’s little academy. I expected you to be making headway, but actually calling forth a spirit? You are quite impressive, dear Weiss.”

“Wha— What do you want with me?” Weiss stammered. She was alone with this monster. The only people who knew where she was were being locked in a dungeon. And her strongest move was just crushed without her foe breaking a sweat. Again!

Salem rose and began to glide over to her. She wanted to move away, to run, but she was paralyzed by the indomitable aura of dread the woman exuded.

“My dear, I wish to make you an offer” the queen revealed. “You see, events have been put in motion that have left me a bit shorthanded. The King of Heroes, I believe you’ve met him, correct? He has revealed himself to be opposing me, and while I have great trust in my remaining allies, I do not wish to be caught on the back foot again. That’s where you come in…”

She gestured to the floor space where Weiss’ glyph had blazed ever so briefly. “Your family’s semblance has an unusual connection to an object of great interest to me, and utilizing that connection could bolster my forces quite considerably. I would be willing to offer you a place in my ranks and tutor you in unlocking the full strength of your powers.”

“You want…to teach me?” Weiss replied incredulously. “Why would I ever accept such an asinine proposition? You killed my mother, you—”

“Your mother is perfectly fine” Salem cut her off.

“What?”

“I have some relation to the maiden’s power and I know when it transfers to a new host” she continued. “The Winter Maiden’s has not chosen a successor, therefore, your mother must have survived her little encounter with Caster.”

Tears of joy slipped down Weiss’ checks. Her lips spread into the first genuine smile she’d had in this nightmarish place.

Salem’s grin however, disappeared. “As for why you should accept this offer, I can promise you power in this world and the new one I shall forge. And if that is not enough to sway you, then I would like to remind you of my words to your father. He and your brother are only required for their presence.”

“Meaning?” Weiss muttered, her eyes downcast.

Salem smirked. She leaned in right next to Weiss’ ear. “You’re a clever girl, Ms. Schnee. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

It didn’t take a genius to do that.

“So, do we have a deal?” the Queen demanded.

Weiss thought everything out. Her mother was alive. That meant that the authorities were aware that they were kidnapped and not dead. That meant they would be searched for, and her mother seemed to have some knowledge of Salem. Perhaps she could launch a rescue mission. Or maybe she could escape herself.

But then, she thought of her father and brother. She wasn’t even sure if she could call them family. They abused her, manipulated her, tried to turn her into a puppet for their own selfish gain and then locked her away when she refused to bend to their whims. They were destroying the name of the Schnee family.

But, at the end of the day, even if she disowned them, even if she despised them as the horrible human beings they were, they were still human. They didn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of this monster. She had to keep them safe.

Which left only one option.

“We do,” she assented.

Salem pulled away and smiled like a kindly grandmother. “Splendid. For your first lesson, how much has your family told you of the Holy Grail War?”

 

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_The cabin in the forest was well built. The logs that made up the walls were sturdy and thick. The door clearly had a gun hole that could be opened from the inside to give any defender cover. The entire structure was situated on a small hill, granting its holders the crucial advantage of the high ground._

_Honestly, Raven was impressed._

_When her friend had invited her over, she had expected something more flamboyant and jarring, more aligned with the owner’s personality. Instead, she found a seamlessly crafted fortification. There was a story behind this that she’d have to hear._

_She slowly treaded up the hill, her odachi secured in its sheath at her side. She wasn’t expecting any trouble, but only a fool left their own domain unarmed. Even if her friend really did want them to get away and have some fun, it paid to be prepared._

_Raven frowned. Actually, knowing her friend, the fun was what she would have to be prepared for._

_Suddenly, four daggers embedded themselves in a square around Raven. Her hand was instantly on the hilt of her sword._

_Each of the blades glowed brightly for a moment, and when that glow faded, four women in white cloaks stood in their place. Each figure had a belt of black daggers around their waists._

_“Hahahaha!” laughed a familiar voice._

_Raven looked up to see another white cloaked woman standing gallantly atop the roof of the cabin._

_“What are you doing?” Raven asked exasperatedly._

_“What am I doing?” the woman on the roof dramatically mocked with an exaggerated hand to the chest. “You have trespassed upon my sacred land, Raven Branwen. And for that, you shall be punished!”_

_Raven sighed. It definitely paid to be prepared._

_The gatling mechanism in her sheath rotated new dust onto her blade._

_“Get her!” yelled the woman._

_“Yeah!” echoed the four copies. They each drew daggers and rushed in at the huntress._

_Raven shook her head amused._

_In a single motion, she drew forth her odachi, now alight with fire dust, and whirled around in a great sweeping arc. Two of the cloaked figures managed to barely parry her strike. The other pair were not so lucky, disoriented by the flames and then sliced in two by the huntress’ sword._

_The defeated warriors glowed again with a brilliant shine, and then fell to the grass, daggers once more._

_Raven pressed the attack. She charged one of the fighters and unleashed a flurry of blisteringly fast slashes. The woman reacted quickly, keeping her knives close to the chest, deflecting each strike a fraction of an inch to the side._

_It was almost as impressive as the original’s skills._

_Raven activated her semblance and when her foe next moved to meet her slice, she instead found her hand thrusting through a small portal of darkness._

_Idly, Raven heard the woman on the roof yelp in surprise. Probably having barely dodged a knife that came out of nowhere._

_With her immediate opponent down a weapon, Raven unleashed another barrage of strikes, overwhelming the woman’s crippled defenses and transforming her back into a dagger herself._

_Whipping around instantly, the huntress met the advancing form of the last copy, her odachi swinging wildly to claim more blood._

_The two engaged in a more even back and forth than the others had, both combatants trading blows and struggling for an ideal position. Raven had to keep the fight at range to make use of her sword’s extraordinary length, while the other woman struggled to get close to turn that same attribute into a disadvantage._

_Realizing that their current battle was dragging on more than she would like, Raven swung around and kicked at the woman. She blocked with the flat of both her knives, but the force behind the blow still sent her flying back a few yards._

_That was all the time Raven needed._

_In a flash, her odachi was back in its sheath. The mechanism inside rotated the power yet again, this time installing wind dust._

_The woman turned the same color as her cloak._

_Raven charged forward, her blade lancing out as she advanced. The sword unleashed a billowing gust overhead, knocking its target to the ground even as she dodged its steel._

_Calming chuckling, Raven lowered the tip of her odachi to the warrior’s throat._

_Red eyes gloated over defeated silver ones. “Guess this means I win?”_

_The woman on the ground grinned widely. “Nope!”_

_Raven heard the distinctive sound of a gun cocking behind her head. She could guess who was holding it._

_The original white cloaked woman waved her large pistol at the huntress’ back. A fluttering laugh escaped her lips._

_Raven should have let it go. She should have let her win._

_But what fun would that be?_

_She slashed down at her downed foe, creating a portal even as the figure faded back to a knife. In the same instant, she dived down into her hole in space. When she came out, she was now behind the original woman in white, who whirled around to meet her odachi with her gun._

_The portal closed._

_Both women stood completely still, both their weapons at each other’s throat._

_They stared mercilessly. Their eyes shining with nothing but the harshness of stone._

_Then the woman in the white cloak started to laugh._

_And laugh._

_And laugh._

_Raven returned her sword to its sheath, a small smile dancing on her lips._

_How could it not? Her friend’s laugh was a beauteous thing. Somehow, she doubted even a Deathstalker could frown at the laugh of Summer Rose._

_The silver-eyed warrior finally pulled herself together and collected her fallen daggers. “How about we call that one a draw?” she proposed._

_“Draw, my ass” Raven teased. “You wouldn’t have fired that thing.” Her face became a little more serious. “How many times do I have to tell you not to go for the Contender if you’re not going to use it?”_

_Summer rolled her eyes and put the massive pistol in question on her belt. “As many as I have to tell you that I’m not using it on people. You know what it does to someone with aura. No one deserves that. Besides, it’s not like my bladies did any better.”_

_Raven smacked her hand to her face. She hated Summer’s name for her sword clones, but if she hadn’t changed it since Beacon, she probably never would._

_“What we are we doing here, Summer?” she asked finally. They hadn’t had any plans for a trip and her brother and fiancée couldn’t tell her anything. Still, Raven trusted her team leader and knew that she would only call if it was a true emergency.”_

_Her leader blinked like it should be obvious. “Rae, you and Tai are getting married in TWO days. What do you think this is?”_

_“An intervention?”_

_She was right! Marriage was a mistake! The paranoid whispers in the back of her head were telling the truth!_

_“No silly. It’s your bachelorette party!”_

_Instead of looking excited, Raven raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t those usually require, you know, bachelorettes?”_

_Summer sighed. “Alright, so your number of girlfriends is strictly limited to me, but we can still give you a fantastic last weekend as a single woman. I mean, how much fun was that spar we just had?”_

_“True” Raven conceded. Facing worthy opponents in combat was something she relished, and even after six years together, she could confidently say she counted her team leader among that number._

_Summer dashed over and snagged an arm around her teammate’s shoulders. “Exactly, and we are going to have even more before we’re done. Think of it! Just the two of us, alone in the last cabin my dad ever built! We’ll tell ghost stories. Make popcorn. Hunt Grimm until they beg for their unholy lives!”_

_“I do like those things” Raven muttered, looking away to avoid her leader’s irresistible charisma._

_It was quiet for several seconds and she knew what was happening. She wouldn’t fall for it. She would resist. She wouldn’t look._

_She looked, and she was caught up in the full power of Summer’s adorable pout._

_Raven sighed. “Alright. Let’s do this.”_

_“Yes!” Summer cheered. She squeezed her friend in lung-crushing hug and then dashed off to the cabin doors._

_She turned back and waved. “And maybe this time, you won’t get me killed? Eh Rae?”_

_Raven’s heart stopped. “Wha- What are you talking about?”_

_Summer frowned. Her cuteness was gone, replaced a cold, accusatory glare. “You could have had everything, but instead, you ran off half-cocked and left me to clean up your mess.”_

_A familiar howl of madness echoed from behind Raven. The huntress couldn’t bring herself to move. She would face the horror behind her even at the cost of the nightmare before her._

_“It was hopeless” she defended. “I had to find a way to kill her, or it would never end.”_

_“So, you put your faith in that **thing** over us? Over your team? Your family?” Summer shouted._

_“You wouldn’t listen!” Raven yelled, tears in her eyes. “You and Qrow and Tai chose Ozpin’s cowardice over a chance at victory!”_

_Summer’s face became emotionless, a mask of stone. “And yet I still came when you called. I followed you in your madness. And look how that turned out.”_

_A rippling golden portal opened behind Summer._

_“No!” Raven cried._

_A glittering lance shot out and speared Summer through the chest. The huntress’ silver eyes went wide with agony as she fell to the ground. Her white cloak slowly stained red with her blood._

_Raven couldn’t bear to watch any longer._

_She turned around and saw what she dreaded._

_The land and sky were gone, replaced by a violent wall of purple. Across the canvas writhed a dozen snarling shadows, desperately clawing up her body._

_It all led back to a thrashing black knight._

**_“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”_ **

_She screamed._

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****

Raven woke with a start, panting madly as sweat soaked her clothes.

A larger bead than most dripped down from her eye.

She instantly rubbed that one away. Damn sweat, clouding up her vision.

She let her hands fall into her hands and sighed.

It had been nice at the beginning. It had been over a decade since she had had a pleasant dream. Not since she’d summoned her first Servant and taken on the burden of his madness. After that, his howls would not leave her alone, were she waking or asleep. Truly, the memory of Summer she indulged in was a gift she would treasure for a long time.

Even with how it was corrupted near the end.

She heard shouts of terrified commotion from outside her tent. Familiar screams of terror echoed through the night.

And his roar, like a wild beast on an endless prowl.

Raven collected her robe and went out to deal with him.

Lancelot rampaged through the center of the camp, wrecking cages and flattening tents as he went. Most of the tribe were veterans at avoiding the deranged knight’s path of destruction, knowing that it was safest to get outside the camp’s walls and let Raven handle the matter. The weak fools who wanted to see just what a Heroic Spirit was capable of found themselves suffering the obvious fate.

The strong live and the weak die. That was the rule of life for a reason.

Raven stepped onto the porch of her tent. With Vernal out leading the scouting parties, she really was the only one who could deal with this.

“Lancelot!” she shouted. “Yield. Now.”

The black knight paused in his movement, but his body still strained itself, desperate to continue his rampage. Despite his madness preventing him from understanding Raven’s exact words, the spirit of the order still reached his broken mind.

His oath of chivalric obedience, so deeply ingrained in the noblest of knights, clashed against the fog of chaos that polluted his class. In the end, in all came down to whether his master’s will was strong enough to weather the storm.

Normally, Raven was up to the task, having carried the burden constantly for almost two decades.

But after the dream… after Summer… she slipped just a bit.

**“AAAAAAAAAAA!”**

Lancelot howled again and raced towards his master, ready to crush her.

Raven cursed and raised her right hand before her. She had allowed herself to be weak for a moment and it would cost her. “By the power of my Command Seal—”

A massive shape appeared in front of her before she could finish. Her newest Servant, the giant Berserker, stood fast between her and the other hero.

Lancelot either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and continued his charge, shrieking all the way.

Berserker planted his massive stone sword in the ground. His hands now free, he reached out and plucked the black knight from his charge and then slammed him into the ground. The impact created a sizable crater in the dirt.

Lancelot flailed about madly, his cries of madness never ceasing. Raven heard them twice fold, in the air and in her mind. They ravaged through her skull like a stampede of Beowolves, clawing and scratching at the corners of her sanity. Her knees shook from the effort of maintaining her composure.

Berserker’s grip tightened on his fellow. A low rumble resonated through the air, vibrating the very surface of Remnant.

And then, the Servant roared.

Immediately, Lancelot’s howls ceased. His body still twitched minutely, but he had stopped wildly jerking about.

He wasn’t the only one either. The sounds of the forest’s nightlife had disappeared, from the chirp of the birds and Nevermores, to the baying of hidden insects, nothing dared to be heard lest they draw the attention of the roar’s source.

Inside Raven’s mind there was… not quiet, but less. Less noise than she had known since she first became a master. Lancelot was cowed through his insanity, the basest of emotions, fear, ensuring his temperance at least temporarily.

Berserker released his fellow hero, who rose cautiously and then dissipated into shadows. The giant then turned to face his master.

Raven hadn’t focused on his face after she’d summoned him. She’d been far too concentrated on the enormous power she saw in her master vision. With his lowest stat at a B, who could blame her?

But now… it was strange. His left eye seemed somewhat normal, a deep, if intense brown. His right, however, was a glowing red orb sunken in a sea of black. It reminded her of the terrifying glimpses she’d caught of Salem.

Berserker’s face was not frightening though. Her eventual enemies would likely disagree, but to Raven, his gaze was calm, approachable, even, dare she say it, paternal.

When she’d dared to spy on her family in her bird form, she’d seen the same expression on Tai’s face. He’d been looking over Yang, broken and lying in bed.

Perhaps her new hero’s madness was more common than Lancelot’s. Maybe, in life, he had only been a parent who lost his child, whether by forces outside his control, or the choices he had made. She could certainly sympathize with the latter—

No.

Raven shook her wildly. Leaving Yang and Tai had been for the best. Her only choice really.

She gazed at her Servant. “Thank you for the intervention. Berserker. Return to spirit form until I call upon you again.”

The hulking man did as she commanded and disappeared in a shower of blue dust.

Raven sighed. Perhaps her new Servant’s more controlled madness pushed back the effects of Lancelot’s insanity on her mind. He certainly seemed capable enough at cowing the black knight.

Still, she wasn’t sure if having a bit more of her mind open to dreams was a good thing or not.

After all, her last dream had cost her everything.

 

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****

_An endless grey sea lapped calmly against a pristine white beach. A sky drenched in boundless fog encased the entire setting._

_A young girl with wild blonde hair kneeled on the beach, her body heaving in desperate fright._

_“Help me” she begged the empty air. “Help me! Somebody! Anybody!”_

_She felt the sand vibrate beneath her, like a massive Grimm was marching towards her._

_She looked up and saw three visages in the mist._

_A girl in a white dress with a snowflake on her back, her posture poised and perfect, a rapier held lightly in her right hand._

_A girl with long dark hair, confident and relentless, a large black bow placed squarely on her head._

_And finally, the cruelest blow of all, a small girl in a red hood, her eyes glued towards the unseen horizon._

_None of them faced the blonde girl. And all of them walked even further away._

_“Don’t go!” the blonde screamed, desperately reaching out to the fading images. “Weiss! Blake! Ruby!”_

_None of the trio showed any sign that they heard her. Soon, the fog obscured them all._

_The blonde broke down in the sand, tears streaming down her face. “Please. I don’t want to be alone.”_

_“What else can you be?” a deep voice mocked her from behind._

_The world blurred around the blonde girl. Suddenly, she was on her feet, a brown jacket on her shoulders and a pair of golden gauntlets on her wrists. She stared at them in terror, knowing their use and fearful that she would have need of them._

_Did she always fear battle?_

_A man appeared before her, with dark hair and even darker eyes. A golden cross was tied around his neck on a gleaming chain. He was the one who had mocked her. “If you cannot fight, what good are you to anyone? What other use could one with true ambition have for a sad little girl, desperate for love.”_

_The man started stalking towards her, his glare scathing and without compromise._

_The blonde panicked. She shut her eyes in terror and unleashed a barrage of fire from her gauntlets. Enough to burn the man to ash._

_It passed through him like the kiss of a breeze._

_The man’s right arm glowed with turquoise lines. He pulled it back and slammed his fist into the girl’s gut._

_She went flying, weightless. In the end, she landed with a splash in the beach’s shallow waters._

_She laid there motionless, staring up at the sunless sky, without care and without drive. Perhaps this was where she was meant to lie? Broken and alone, waiting for the tides to smother her dying flame._

_She closed her eyes. Maybe, she would finally know some peace._

_Another shockwave rippled through the world, forcing the girl from her attempted slumber. She shot upright, unable to understand why she wasn’t allowed to just rest._

_The sound that shook the ground beneath her feet was growing closer. It was like a stampede of thunder, charging towards the endless ocean. The blonde girl found herself curious, going from being seated to being on her knees, crawling closer to the torrent of power. It was like a symphony, enticing her in with its magnificent storming melody._

_A single booming shout pierced the cacophony. The girl was certain she’d never heard the voice before, but she could tell instinctively that it belonged to the conductor, the driving force behind the indomitable challenge to the tides._

_The blonde stood and reached out her hand to the horizon. Beyond it, was the conductor, a being that was rising like a new sun._

_She knew at that moment, she needed to see him._

_She could be still no longer._

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****

In a modest cabin on the Isle of Patch, there was a room on the second floor.

And within that room, Yang Xiao- Long opened her eyes.


	21. Moving Forward

A lone figure cloaked in red strolled through a dark forest. She wasn’t supposed to have strayed from the safe house, but her dreams had been haunted by an orange sky clouded with giant gears. She thought perhaps an evening stroll would clear her head. Eventually, she came to a cliff and gazed upon a horrific sight.

A once peaceful village in flames, its inhabitants fleeing in terror under the light of the shattered moon. Even from her perch, the figure could see the creatures of Grimm running rampant through the chaos.

The girl narrowed her eyes in fury. She withdrew a rifle from her cloak and elongated it into a crimson scythe as three Nevermores flew over her head. Firing into the ground, she launched herself onto the back of the lagging member of the flock. And when they were over the village, she sliced the monster wing to tail, falling to the ground through its ashes.

Ruby Rose landed in front of the town church, Crescent Rose gleaming for battle.

The Beowolves in the square took notice of her immediately. They looked stronger than most of the ones Ruby had fought before, bigger and with longer spines. The beasts growled at the huntress’ arrival.

And after traveling the Mistral wilds for four months, she was a huntress now.

Ruby took a deep breath, and charged her foes, losing herself in the relief. Fighting had always come naturally to her, like dancing only without the stupid heels.

A slice here. A Beowolf dropped.

A slash there. Three more joined it.

This was simple. The Grimm were evil. They had no souls and could not be reasoned with. They were a plague to be purged and she was the surgeon. There was no reason to doubt killing them was the right thing.

Ruby relished that comfort. She didn’t know how long she’d have it.

She was so lost in her battle frenzy that she barely noticed being hit by a rock from above. Turning towards the brick’s origin, she noted one unusually inventive Beowolf peeling off roof tiles to use as ammunition.

Leaping into the air, Ruby split herself into three separate streams of roses, deftly evading the next projectile. When she came together behind the creature, she finished it with a single shot.

The recoil sent her flying into the air, straight into a Nevermore. Fortunately, she activated her semblance again, slashing the beast to pieces and jetting back down to the ground. The cobblestone crumbled where she landed.

Her vision obscured by the resulting dust, Ruby warily scanned her surroundings for more foes.

Unfortunately, not warily enough to avoid getting punched in the face.

She smashed through the door to the church. Standing as well as she could, she gasped in shock when she saw her assailant.

A Beringel, a rarer Grimm that looked like a huge gorilla and hit like one as well. According to Weiss, these things weren’t supposed to be studied at Beacon until third year. Of course, the heiress had read ahead and made sure to inform her team, but all that really did was let Ruby know how much trouble she was in.

She should run. She should dash back to the safe house and get Uncle Qrow and Jaune, and then they could kill this thing.

But in the time she was gone, the Beringel would turn its attention to the townsfolk. They were defenseless. It would slaughter them in droves.

Ruby grit her teeth and readied her scythe. She wouldn’t allow that.

She would save everyone.

The Beringel pounded its chest and roared, before lunging forward in a mad rush. Ruby leapt over the beast and spun around for a charge. Her blade struck the ape’s side but went no farther.

The monster didn’t seem to notice. It grabbed Ruby by the head and then punched her onto a burning building.

Needing a new strategy, Ruby switched her weapon to rifle mode. She jumped off her crumbling foothold and hopped around the roofs of the square, keeping her enemy under a constant stream of fire.

It seemed to be working until a pair of Beowolves rushed into the square. Ruby swiftly put a bullet through one, but the Beringel picked up the other and threw it at her position.

She swiftly returned her weapon to scythe mode and slashed the incoming wolf beast, but she had been distracted for several crucial moments.

The Beringel sprang into the air with all its might. Ruby quickly ran the scenario through her head. If she attempted to switch Crescent Rose back to rifle mode, the precious few seconds it would take would be enough for the monster to land on her roof. If she retreated as her weapon transformed, she could avoid the immediate strike from above, but would be left at a disadvantage at the closer range. Which meant her only option was to keep her baby in scythe mode and hope for the best in a melee battle.

Well, at least it was her only option until a streaking arrow knocked the Beringel out of the sky.

Ruby scanned the skyline as the monster faded into nothingness. She spotted a man in a red coat atop the church’s roof, a bow evaporating from his hands.

“Archer!” she called out, waving wildly.

The man in red jumped over to Ruby’s roof and exasperatedly shook his head. “If I may suggest master, perhaps you should obtain reinforcements before rushing off into battle.”

Ruby pouted at her Servant. “I wanted some time alone to think. I wasn’t expecting this.” She gestured at the flaming town around them. “Besides, I had everything under control.”

“Really? I was unaware that getting thrown into two buildings was a symptom of control in this world.”

Ruby embarrassedly scratched the back of her head. “Okay, so not everything went as planned, but I could have won that fight.” She noticed a massive horde of Grimm charging into the square. She smiled and readied Crescent Rose. “And we’re going to win this one.”

“Perhaps” Archer conceded. “However, the surer path to success is one that eliminates your opponent before they can utilize their strength. As such, I decided it would be preferable if I intervened against that Beringel and had our allies handle the rest of these creatures.”

“Allies?”

A storm of crimson lightning struck the mass of Grimm. A figure in grey and scarlet armor charged in screaming like a madman and began tearing the monsters apart.

“Oh,” Ruby remarked.

“She’s been getting insolent about the lack of combat over the last few months” Archer reminded her. “I thought she could use the release.”

A Nevermore was incinerated by a lightning strike. A Beowolf was beaten to death with another Beowolf. All the while, Mordred cackled with joyous laughter.

“It seems to be working.”

“I guess” Ruby conceded. “But if she’s here, where’s Jaune? And Uncle Qrow?”

“Your uncle was doing a perimeter sweep when I left” Archer explained. “As for Saber’s master…”

Jaune stumbled into the square, panting and with his hands on his knees.

“His Servant’s pace seems to be a tad beyond his abilities.”

“Jaune!” Ruby called, leaning over the roof. “We’re up here!”

Jaune glanced up at her and flashed his dorky smile. “Ruby… next time…wake me up… before you charge in like this.”

Ruby cringed. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting—Behind you!”

Jaune rolled to the ground, barely dodging the Beowolf that had clawed at him from behind. He stumbled across the broken cobblestones as the beast roared in fury.

Ruby activated her semblance and blasted off the roof to help. She had failed Pyrrha. She had failed Arturia. She couldn’t fail Jaune.

She needn’t have worried.

Jaune drew his sword as he came up to his feet. For just a moment, his aura glowed gold. A slash of air lashed out from his sword and cut the hapless Grimm in two.

Ruby could only blink in shock as she walked next to her friend. He himself stared at his blade in befuddlement. “What just—”

A crack of crimson lightning interrupted any thoughts the two might have had. Before them was Saber, who lowered her helmet and casually hoisted her sword over her shoulder. “Well, that was disappointing. Seriously, how have these things nearly wiped out humanity? They’re pathetic.”

Jaune sighed and looked to Ruby. “You okay? Archer didn’t say much beyond, ‘follow me’.”

“Was anymore necessary?” Archer pointed out as he joined the rest.

“Yes,” Jaune protested. “I don’t know what I’m walking into if you don’t tell me. What if I hadn’t brought my sword?”

Archer smirked. “What kind of huntsmen discards his weapon in Grimm invested territory?”

Jaune scowled. It wasn’t as if he could argue the point.

Ruby decided that now would be the best time to jump in before the relationship between her friend and her Servant deteriorated even further. “It’s alright, Jaune, I’m fine. You guys showed up just in time.”

“Of course, we did” Mordred boasted, shoving herself between the two huntsmen. “Punctuality is the mark of a true knight and **I** am the only knight that far surpasses my father!”

Ruby wasn’t sure how true that declaration was, but since both Jaune and Archer raised their eyebrows in doubt, she figured it was just Mordred being Mordred. Though how Archer was able to have an opinion on Arturia’s abilities, she didn’t know.

“So,” Mordred swept around to face Jaune, “how did I look? What do you think of my skills as a warrior?”

“Ugh, well” Jaune stammered. “I’m sure it was impressive and—”

Mordred frowned. “You weren’t even watching, were you?”

“I was going to” Jaune assured her. “But I had to find Ruby, and then the Beowolf attacked…”

Red sparks cascaded off of Mordred. Her fists clenched in fury.

“Aaanyway,” Ruby said quickly. “Jaune and I should gather the townspeople. You know, let them know the Grimm are dead and help put out the fires. You two should run back and tell Uncle Qrow what’s going on.”

“I do not take orders from you!” Mordred shouted.

Jaune sighed. “Saber, it’s the best plan—”

Mordred punched him into a wall. “Or you, pretender!”

Ruby sighed. Even when she knew which of Mordred’s buttons she’d pushed, she had no idea how to diffuse her. She was like Weiss only you couldn’t just start nodding to get her to lay off.

…

Oh great! Now she was missing Weiss!

Archer shook his head ruefully. “It’s alright, master. I will reach Qrow much faster without such a tortoise slowing me down.”

Mordred reeled on him. “Are you calling me slow, jester?”

“Not at all” Archer snarked. “Just that your armor’s bulk is similar to a shell, by extension weighing you down so much that an actual tortoise could easily outrace you.”

“Screw you, jester! I’ll go get the drunkard myself!”

Mordred dashed out of the square, crimson electricity trailing behind her.

Ruby rushed over to Jaune and gave him a hand up, letting him drape across her shoulders for balance.

Archer hummed and rubbed his chin in thought. “Your aura is truly impressive. To enable a normal human to survive a serious blow from a Servant. It’s simply astounding.”

Jaune groaned in response.

Ruby cringed. “Look on the bright side. She saved the town faster than we ever could. And I think I saw a forge when I was flying over. If the blacksmith survived the attack, maybe he can make the upgrades to Crocea Mors we’ve been talking about?”

“Great” Jaune muttered. “Just great. And maybe he can tell me how to get Mordred to stop punching me in the face.”

Archer sighed. “Saber. Refer to her as Saber at all times. You never know when you’re being watched.”

“Not in the mood, Archer” Jaune shot back.

Ruby frowned. Things were not going well. Their trek to Mistral had been uninterrupted, and to the best of their knowledge, Blake’s group was safe. But the calm was presenting its own host of issues.

The Servants were, for better or for worse, weapons, though neither Ruby or Jaune would ever treat them that way. But the Holy Grail War they were expecting was supposed to be confined to a single city and would have ended in a matter of weeks. Spending so long in the world with only Grimm to fight was making them antsy. Mordred’s mood had only worsened since they left Patch and, while Archer hid it better, Ruby could tell he was unsettled as well. The only person he didn’t constantly tease was Uncle Qrow, and Ruby wasn’t sure if that was out of respect or if he just didn’t care enough to antagonize him.

Then, there were the dreams she’d been having. The hill of swords was still the most common, but sometimes there were others. More frightening scenes of swarms of people lying dead with swords in their backs. Cities being obliterated as a single arrow leveled their skyscrapers.

But not even they were the most disturbing.

No, the worst… the worst was the fire.

She didn’t know where she was, there were no stars in the sky. Perhaps there were once buildings around her but now there were only crumbling ruins. A blaze greater than any she’d ever seen, even the flames that had raged at the Fall, rampaged as far as the eye could see. Cries of agony filled the air and she felt herself sinking into a sinister black mud. It was hell.

And she was powerless.

She closed her eyes, accepting the end.

But she’d open them again, woken by a voice that cried of salvation. _“He’s alive. He’s alive!”_

She saw that a man with shaggy hair spoke the words. Tears crashed down his face.

And then, she’d wake up. Always then, not a moment before or after. She could never fully recall the man’s face. Which left her only with the terror of the fire.

It was a new feeling, fearing the fire. Growing up, flames had meant Yang, and when Yang was around, everything would be alright. Nothing could hurt her big sister.

Until Kirei did just that.

A tear welled in Ruby’s eyes. While the intrakingdom network allowed them to keep in contact with Blake’s group, the international CCT still hadn’t recovered, leaving them with no way to know how Yang was doing.

Ruby didn’t even know if her big sister had woken up yet.

Whatever the case, at least things couldn’t have been worse than when she left.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Beneath the shattered moon, Yang sat cross-legged on the grass, her broken right arm and hand wrapped in a thick, bulky cast. Mercury’s parting gift from what dad had told her. She hoped the bastard had felt it when Blake’s ex cut him in half.

As for her, she didn’t feel anything. In the four months since she’d woken up, her whole world had shattered. Beacon had been overrun by Grimm. Pyrrha was dead. And worst of all, her team had left her.

On a mental level, she understood why they did. Weiss in particular probably didn’t have a say in the matter. From what she’d told them of her dad, he’d probably dragged her back to Atlas kicking and screaming. She likely wasn’t in any position to visit.

But Ruby and Blake, they’d run off to save the world. That wasn’t something they could exactly put off, especially if dad’s crazy explanation for what they needed to do was true. The world was more important that one girl in a coma.

She couldn’t help them, so they needed to move forward. She knew they made the right choice.

Didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like a bitch.

Her little sister and her best friend had abandoned her, just like Kirei said they would.

After all, a lonely little girl wasn’t worth a war for a wish.

Yang reached out her left hand and patted the grass where Ruby had summoned her Servant. The sigil still remained, the dried blood securing the ominous marking on the border of the forest. It was all so unbelievable, but her dad wouldn’t have lied to her, not in the condition she was in.

She sighed. The condition she was still in. After she had woken up, it had a taken a week before she could get out of bed, and only in a wheelchair for two months after that. She’d only finally kicked her crutches a few days ago. Supposedly, only her arm was left to heal.

But it didn’t feel like it. Whenever she tried to help around the house, wash dishes, sweep the floor, get back in the swing of her old chores, she always felt so exhausted. The simplest of tasks, the stuff she used to breeze through without even thinking about it, made her more tired than the fighting at The Breach.

And if she had been too weak when she fought Kirei, what use would she be to her friends now?

Yang shook her head and started making her way back to the house. When she walked in, the light was on in the kitchen and she heard laughter reverberating through the halls. Hiding behind the door frame, she saw her dad chatting up with Dr. Oobleck and Professor Port.

Port was telling a story, though for once it wasn’t about himself, and maybe that was why it was far more interesting than his usual fare. “And then, Qrow comes in, wearing a skirt!”

“We told him it was kilt. He’d never worn a uniform before” her dad explained.

“You are terrible” Oobleck joked.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. The girls all said he had nice legs.”

All three men let out another round of rambunctious laughter. It was so infectious that Yang couldn’t help letting a few giggles escape. Her former teachers whirled around to face her.

“M- Ms. Xiao-Long” Port stuttered. “Please, come in.”

“By all means, pull up a chair” Oobleck invited.

Yang smiled and walked over to the counter next to her father. “Here’s fine. Thanks. So, what’s going on? You old dudes having a party?”

“Nothing so extravagant” Oobleck explained. “We’re simply catching up. Teachers do have lives outside of school hours, you know.”

“Yes. We’re just taking a well-deserved break from the rebuilding process. With Professor Goodwitch leading the charge, we’ll likely have the school fixed up in time for the fall semester” Port said.

“Yeah, so as I was saying” Taiyang interjected. “There Qrow was, in a skirt, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, when Oz shows up and tells us we need to work on our landing strategies.”

“Yes. The Branwen twins have always been an odd pair” Oobleck chuckled.

“That didn’t stop young Tai” Port teased.

“Pete, come on” Tai motioned to Yang.

“Nonsense. Miss Xiao-Long is a mature young woman. Surely she can handle a few jabs at her old man.”

“That’s not what I’m saying” Tai argued, frowning. “She’s still a teenager.”

“She is right here, and would appreciate it if you talked straight to her” Yang growled. “And I think I’ve been through enough to be considered an adult.”

Her father sighed. “Whether you’re an adult or not, you still have a lot to learn about the world.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “Do all fathers have the same three condescending phrases?”

“Yeah” Taiyang admitted. “But we only use them when we mean it.”

“Really? Is that so?”

“As a matter of fact, it is so.”

Port tugged at his collar. Oobleck buried his face in his coffee. This was not a conversation they wanted to be present for.

Taiyang smirked. “If you honestly think you’re ready to go out there on your own, then I guess you woke up from that coma a bit too soon.”

Port’s eyes went wide. Oobleck dropped his mug. Yang gasped. All of them stared at the elder Xiao-Long, unable to process his callous remark.

Until Yang smiled and playfully punched her father. “You jerk.”

Both of them started laughing, unsettling the teachers in the room. Oobleck leaned over to them. “Are we finally talking about the Goliath in the room?”

The Xiao-Longs paused for a moment, then laughed even louder. The display assured the teachers that everything was fine, and they joined in with the merriment.

Eventually, the quartet calmed done. “Ms. Xiao…Yang” Port inquired respectfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you think you’ll return to the Beacon come autumn?”

“Ah yes. The entire staff are anxiously awaiting your return to active duty,” Oobleck chimed in.

Yang glanced down at her cast. “I’m… scared, I guess” she admitted to the group and herself. “Everybody keeps saying they want me back to normal, and I’m grateful for that, but… I’m not sure if I should. Go back to that normal, I mean.”

Her old professors raised their eyebrows in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Yang” Oobleck confessed.

“Do you remember what I told you at Mountain Glenn?” she asked the good doctor. “I said that I wanted to be a huntress because I was a thrill-seeker. But I wasn’t ready for what came with those thrills. My normal was…”

Yang scowled, hearing the voice of a boy in black robes even as she said the word, “… childish.”

She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned to see her father smiling at her. “Normal is what you make of it.”

“How can you say that?” Yang shouted. “I was stupid, bullheaded. And because of that, I was useless while my friends fought for their lives. Pyrrha died! And I slept through it!”

The blonde brawler sagged back against the counter, her head in her left hand. “Now… now I’m less than useless.”

“You’re right.”

Yang’s head shot up at her father’s blunt statement. His smile was still there but mixed with a stern expression she saw him use a lot back at Signal.

“You were pretty stupid in your fight with Kirei. And that hasn’t left in the best condition right now. But that shouldn’t stop you from moving forward to who you want to be,” he explained. “You’re Yang Xiao-Long. My Sunny Little Dragon. There’s nothing you can’t do. So, whenever you’re done feeling sorry for yourself and want to get back out there, I’ll be waiting.”

Yang stuttered. She knew he was right, but she was still unsure. “I—"

“Fear is like any other emotion, it comes and goes” Port assured her. “It’s all in how you handle it. Why even I find myself wrestling with that emotion from time to time.”

Yang raised an eyebrow. “Really? You?”

“He’s terrified of mice” Oobleck whispered.

“They bring only disease and famine!”

Yang laughed at Port’s rambunctious outburst. She laughed a lot that night.

Eventually though, it got late, and with a cheerful goodbye, she headed up to bed.

When she arrived at her room, she heard their voices outside her window. Curious, she shuffled over to eavesdrop. Most of it was the casual goodbyes to be expected between old friends, so much so that Yang considered letting it be and turning in, until Port said…

“I hesitate to ask but, is there any word from young Ms. Rose or Ms. Belladonna?”

Taiyang sighed. “No. With the CCT down, they likely won’t be able to get a message home until they get to Mistral.”

“I still find it strange that Qrow would take them on such a journey at a time like this” Oobleck confessed. “I know he can be unorthodox, but this seems pointlessly dangerous. Have you thought about going after them? Bringing them home?”

“Qrow knows what he’s doing” Tai answered somberly. “Besides, I’ve got to…take care of some things here.”

Yang turned back into her room, her mind whirling in thought.

All her life, she had been abandoned. Her mother, Summer, even Qrow with the time he was often away, either by choice or duty, they’d all left her behind. After dad had struggled with Summer’s death, she’d been determined to make sure that Ruby would never experience the pain the world could bring. She would stand by her sister’s side and protect her.

And if by consequence she was never alone again, so much the better.

She would be the best sister, so Ruby would never want to leave, and the best protector, so nothing would ever force her to.

It seemed to be perfect. Her early trials had made her resilient. There was no blow she couldn’t take. Even her semblance was based the idea of getting stronger with punishment. She was invincible.

She was naïve.

Kirei brought that crashing down and at the same time, showed her just how great the gap was between her and her sister.

She may have been the stronger of the two, but Ruby had a fire within her. A drive, lit by her mother, to protect as many people as she could. To be a hero.

Blake and Weiss, they had their own goals, their own dreams, that allowed them to stand beside Ruby as equals.

Yang had no dream. Yes, she wanted to find her mother and have as much fun as she could along the way, but she made that subservient to her momentary whims long ago. She coasted by on the thrill of each encounter.

And so, she was less than the grand ambitions of her team. She was just their brute, their enforcer. Their guard dog.

Oh gods, she was Zwei.

She couldn’t be Zwei.

Yang curled her left fist. She had to help Ruby. She had to make sure that she and Blake knew that she could stand beside. To do that, she needed to find a dream.

And for now, that would be getting strong enough to punch Robes in his smug prick face.

 


	22. Forest Encounter

A bull faunus blacksmith placed Jaune’s new armor on the counter. “There you go, son,” the hardy man exclaimed. “It’s gonna be heavier than you’re used to, but you’ll thank me the next time you go up against a set of claws.”

“Wow,” Jaune whispered in wonder. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t got to say anything. Just put it on” the blacksmith ordered. “I’ll go get the rest.”

The horned man went back into his workshop.

Jaune stared at the magnificent chassis. He and Ruby had been designing it for weeks, expanding the armor plating and reinforcing the steel. After Mordred had slaughtered the horde of Grimm attacking the village and he and Ruby helped put out the fires, the town blacksmith had been more than willing to make the necessary adjustments for them, free of charge.

Now, here before him was the fruits of his labor.

“Well, you gonna put it on or just stare at, you idiot,” Mordred snapped. She leaned against the wall of the shop, vigorously eating popcorn out of a bag in her hand. It reminded him of his mother and her own gluttonous habits, and with her face still identical, Jaune couldn’t help the pang that came to his heart.

Over the four months he’d spent with his Servant… sister… brother… whatever, he’d gained a new appreciation for the siblings he’d grown up with. Sure, they’d braided his hair while he was asleep and forced him into dresses, but they also made him soup when he was sick and helped him with his homework so he could scrap his way to the next grade. Mordred spent all her good days calling him a ‘pretender’ and punching him in the face.

On her bad days, she insulted mom, and then he wanted to punch her in the face.

Jaune shook his head and took off the basic armor he’d bought for Beacon. It had been getting a little small anyway. Maybe Qrow’s brutal pace from safe house to safe house was doing some good after all. He turned around to the others.

Ruby’s hands shot up to her mouth. She stifled a chorus of giggles. Mordred stood up straight from the wall in shock. Even the ever-unflappable Archer raised an eyebrow.

That really got Jaune worried. “What? What is it?”

Ruby pointed at his chest. “What is that?”

Jaune looked down at his official Pumpkin Pete sweater. “What? My hoodie? I’ve always had this.”

Ruby kept chuckling and even snorted. “It’s got a cute little bunny rabbit!” she declared.

“It’s Pumpkin Pete,” Jaune insisted against her laughter. “You know, from the cereal!”

“What did you do? Send in a box top for a prize?” the red reaper inquired, gasping for breath.

“Yeah, fifty.”

Ruby stopped for a moment. Then, she laughed even harder. Eventually, she ran out of air and fell to the floor.

Jaune slumped. It wasn’t his fault. Mom had bought dozens of boxes a week, mostly for her. He figured she’d like the sweater as a birthday present, but the company had sent the wrong size. Mom hadn’t been mad. She said he looked cute in it.

Mordred shook her head. “This world’s insistence on attaching animals to food is ridiculous. If you’re selling grain, why would you choose a rabbit as your symbol?”

Jaune opened his mouth to argue. After all, the cereal’s backstory was clear that Pumpkin Pete fused his pumpkins with marshmallows to ward off the Grimm that wanted to eat his magical pumpkins to destroy humanity.

Then, he realized that that really did make absolutely no sense. Grimm didn’t eat.

The blacksmith returned from the back with Crocea Mors. “Here you go,” he said, slamming the sheathed sword on the counter. “Made all the modifications you asked for. That was some fine metal you brought me. Makes the broadsword combination go smooth as butter. Where’d you get it, anyway?”

Jaune gazed at the twin sunrises in the shield’s center, the proud symbol of the Arc family. Then, his eyes shifted down to the point of the broad shield. Embroidered along the tip was the bronze design of Pyrrha’s headdress.

“From a friend,” he answered ominously.

He hoped his partner would forgive him for using her last iconic article for upgrading his weapon. But he needed every advantage he could get if he was going to get the Grail.

After all, how else was he supposed to bring her back to life? Her and his mom.

He couldn’t fail them again.

The shop’s doorbell chimed. Qrow trudged in. “Just finished talking with the mayor. We’re stocked up until we get to the next safe—”

He paused and stared at Jaune. After a moment, the grown huntsman snorted a chuckle.

Jaune… Jaune just sighed.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Blake Belladonna had been trained as an elite operative by a terrorist organization. She had fought Grimm ten times her size and come out on top. She had survived encounters with some of the most despicable criminals of her time. She had endured horrors few would ever dream to dread and kept moving forward despite her tragedies.

Now, in the face of Nora Valkyrie, she didn’t think she would survive.

“Do you think they’re getting enough sleep? Do Servants even need sleep? Do they need more sleep? Ah! What if Archer and Mor-Mor don’t get enough sleep and they run into another master? They’re all gonna die! We have to call them right—”

“Nora,” Ren interrupted. “Qrow told us before we left that Servants don’t sleep.”

“But what—”

“Or eat.”

Blake sent out a silent thank you to the pink-eyed ninja. She could sympathize with Nora’s worries over the other team, especially with all that had happened at the Fall and everything they’d learned since, but she seriously doubted that Mordred would be incapacitated because she was allergic to silk and Jaune forgot to ask before he bought her underwear.

Ruby and Jaune would be fine. They had a fully trained huntsman, and two ancient heroes protecting them. Nothing could touch them.

At least, she hoped.

“So, which town is up next?” Blake asked, desperate to distract her thoughts.

“Shion Village,” Sun happily informed her, eagerly pointing out its location on the map. Given his experience with the Mistral countryside, he had taken over navigation duties. “Neptune took us all there on our first break for a team vacation. They’ve got an awesome hiking trail over here, a great campsite down by the river here—”

“Guys,” Ren whispered, somehow loud enough for them all to hear.

Blake looked up from the map. Her eyes widened as smoke rose on the horizon.

“Come on,” she yelled. “Let’s search for survivors.”

The four of them ran down the road as fast as they could. When they arrived, all that was left of Shion were soot-covered buildings and decaying corpses.

“Over here!” Ren called.

They found a huntsman lying against the remains of a crumbled wall. His limp hands clutched a badly bleeding wound in his side.

Ren kneeled down to see what he could do to help.

“What happened here?” Blake demanded. “Who killed all these people?”

“Ba- Bandits,” the huntsmen struggled out. “A whole tribe of them. Then, while everyone was panicing—” He broke out into a round of agonized coughs.

“Grimm,” Ren conjected.

“No,” the huntsman denied. “No, a Grimm came but it ran away from… that thing. It was wearing black armor, head to toe, but… its strength… so fast… it couldn’t have been human.”

The man sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.

“We can take him to the next village and find a doctor there,” Blake declared.

Sun nodded. “Ren and I can take turns carrying him.”

“I don’t know guys,” Nora worried. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”

“Come on, sure he will,” Sun insisted.

“No, he won’t,” Ren chimed in.

The man’s eyes were wide open, lifeless. His corpse unmoving. All that remained of the brave defender of humanity.

The kids didn’t even know his name.

“Should we, bury him?” Nora wondered.

Ren stomped off past them. “We should go. It’s not safe here.”

“Ren,” Nora muttered, going after him.

Blake’s hand clenched into a fist. Her eyes narrowed in rage.

A comforting hand came onto her shoulder. She turned to see Sun looking at her worriedly. “Hey, you okay?”

“No,” Blake growled. “I’m not.”

They were huntsmen. They were the protectors of the people. They had trained their entire lives. Yet, the best they seemed to be able to do was clean up and damage control.

The Breach. The Fall. Shion was just the latest in a string of failures when they had been too late or too clueless to help anyone.

If they were so useless at saving one town, how could her hopes of changing the world ever come to pass?

Was a miracle the only way to achieve a dream?

Wait…

“He said that someone was wearing black armor head to toe,” Blake noted. “Someone with unnatural strength and speed, and powerful enough to scare off Grimm.”

Sun’s eye widened. “You think these bandits have a Servant?”

“Maybe. If they do, we’ll have to be careful. If Arturia was any standard, none of us stand a chance against them.”

“Guys,” Blake and Sun turned to Ren. He had his eyes closed and his head up straight. He held his hand out in front of him. “We’re not alone.”

The entire team drew their weapons, maneuvering back to back into a square formation.

“Where do you sense them?” Blake inquired.

Ren pointed to the southern tree line. His semblance of sensing and suppressing emotions had proved quite useful in the wilderness. They’d been able to ambush dozens of Grimm thanks to the early warning. And more importantly, avoid packs that were too large.

“I don’t think it’s Grimm,” he told them. “Not enough anger.”

“Whoever you are, come out!” Sun yelled. “We promise we won’t hurt you.”

They waited a few moments, straining their ears for any answer. All they received was the wind.

Blake narrowed her eyes at the forest. Ren was never wrong before. But with the smoke above darkening the sky, spotting the hidden person would be— there!

It was barely a flash of movement, but it was there. There and running.

“They’re getting away” she shouted, and charged into the foliage.

“Blake, wait!” Ren called.

She didn’t listen. If this person saw what happened to the village, maybe they could explain more about the mysterious black knight. They couldn’t let them get away.

Using her cat-like agility, Blake leapt into the branches and gave chase through the trees. She could just barely make out her target. Whoever they were, they were camouflaged extraordinarily well. Their skin and outfit perfectly blended into the complex greens and browns of the surrounding area. Heck, the only reason Blake could track their movements at all was that she trained with…

No. It couldn’t be her. She was on Menagerie.

“Ilia!” Blake called out. She stopped chasing and stood on her branch.

Her target did the same. Her camouflage dissipated, and her natural rainbow skin tone took over. She turned around, took off her White Fang mask, and Blake found herself face to face with someone she’d thought she’d never see again.

Ilia smirked. “Hey, Blake. How have you been?”

“Why are you here, Ilia? I thought you were on Menagerie.” After Blake had noticed Adam’s downward spiral into madness, she’d used every ounce of influence she still had to get him to reassign her other oldest friend to the faunus island. She’d hoped that taking Ilia away from the frontlines of the fight for equality would prevent her from slipping into fanaticism like Adam did. Now it seemed her efforts were for naught.

Ilia shrugged. “Adam needed someone he could trust for the war, and you turned him down. We’ve been following your group for weeks now.”

Blake gulped. Her worst fears were confirmed. Adam was a master, and that meant he now had a Servant at his command. He would come for Ruby and Jaune if he found out about them.

And if he won the grail, there was no telling what horror he would commit.

“You’re not exactly pleased with that news, I take it” Ilia surmised off her look. “Don’t worry, it’s not anything malicious. Adam knows this countryside from his training days. It’s more dangerous than you think. We’re here to protect you.”

“And if there was a master in our group?” Blake asked. “Would you be protecting us then?”

“That would probably depend on who it was,” Ilia shot back. She sighed and gazed back up at Blake with pleading eyes. “Blake, please join us. It’ll be like old times. The three of us against the world. You know what’s at stake here. If we win, we can achieve our dream. The dream of the White Fang and faunus everywhere.”

“What dream is that, Ilia? Equality or genocide? Adam changed, he’s not like he used to be,” Blake explained desperately.

“Neither are you!” Ilia shouted. “You were a part of this before any of us. Your dedication to the ideals of the Fang inspired me, and Adam. But now, when we have the chance to get everything we ever wanted, you’re running away!”

“I’m not running!” Blake roared, trying to convince herself as well as Ilia. “I’m standing by my friends.”

The venom in Ilia’s eyes shattered. The chameleon girl looked down at her feet. “I thought I was your friend.”

Blake… didn’t have a response to that.

“Look, please join us,” Ilia beseeched, her sorrowful gaze rising. “You say Adam changed? He can change back. We can work with your new team to get the grail. Our Servant, Lancer, he’s human and he’s—”

“Blake!” Sun’s voice carried up from the forest below. He quickly bounded onto the same branch as her. “Geez, give us some warning before you run off like that, will you?”

The monkey glanced over at Ilia. He caught sight off the White Fang mask at her side and his eyes shot up. “White Fang!” He shouted, drawing his gun-chucks.

Ilia snatched her whip from her belt and extended it, the entire thing crackling with electricity.

Blake thrust her hand in front of him. “Sun—”

The air next to Ilia sparkled and a man with two wrapped spears materialized out of thin air.

“—wait” Blake finished. Her friend didn’t need to be told twice, his weapons instantly dropping from where they had pointed at Ilia.

The new figure held one of his lances in front of Ilia, shielding her from any potential attack. He wore a green armored jumpsuit, a few shades darker than the trees. His long black hair stood up above his head, straddling the line between neat and unruly. His balance on the narrow tree branch was equal to any of the present faunus. Blake found herself mesmerized by his stare, alluring and dangerous, yet unendingly protective.

She barely noticed the mole beneath his right eye.

This was Adam’s Servant. This was Lancer.

Beneath her, Blake’s legs shook.

Lancer frowned at Sun. “Drawing weapons unprovoked against a woman. And I thought huntsmen were the knights of this age.”

Sun had the decency to look chastised. He leaned into Blake’s ear. “Servant?”

“Servant.”

Sun winced. “Sorry about that. Won’t happen again.”

The Servant nodded, seeming to accept the boy’s apology.

Ilia gazed at her partner, confused. “Um, Lancer? Not that I mind your presence, but why are you here?”

The green knight shifted himself towards Ilia and bowed to her. “My apologies, Mistress Ilia. Master Adam asked that I accompany you in case something went wrong. I thought it best to remain in spirit form to keep from being a distraction.”

Ilia blushed. “Lancer, you could never be a distraction.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Ilia blush. It was a strange thing to remember, but looking back, the White Fang of the old days wasn’t lacking for strapping young men. She had been focused on Adam at the time, but Ilia had never expressed interest towards anyone. Huh, maybe the mystique of an ancient hero was irresistible, even to her picky friend.

It would certainly explain her own… lower body issues.

Lancer turned back to Blake and Sun, and bowed again. “The regulations of the Holy Grail War prevent from giving my true name without my master’s consent, but you may call me Lancer, hero of the spear.”

“Yo,” Sun waved.

“Um…hi,” Blake muttered. Why wouldn’t her legs stop shaking?

Ilia smiled. “Lancer will win the Holy Grail for the White Fang. No other hero in the war can possibly match him.”

Sun smirked. “Really? We heard some pretty powerful Servants have been summoned. A freak in black armor wiped out an entire town back there.”

“Black armor?” Lancer whispered. His eyes narrowed. “Berserker. Mistress, we should return with this information to Master Adam at once.”

“Oh, okay,” Ilia glanced back at Blake. “Don’t abandon our cause, Blake. Make the right choice.”

She turned her back and leaped away.

Lancer bowed once more. “I hope you will consider my master’s offer. It would be an honor to fight alongside you, Mistress Blake.”

He said her name the same as anybody else, but Blake had never thought it sounded so beautiful. “Yeah. Um, see you around, Lancer?”

The Servant nodded and dissipated into sapphire sparkles.

Blake stared at where he once stood. The forest seemed so much darker without his presence.

A tap on the shoulder drew her gaze. Sun’s face had a look of earnest concern. “He’s gone now. You can stop shaking.”

“What?” Blake stammered, looking down. She finally forced her legs to stop shaking.

“Wow, if even you can’t help but shake in fear, these guys must be dangerous,” Sun remarked. “Guess you were right about your ex’s plans.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Blake snapped. Gosh, she only just met him.

Sun raised an eyebrow. “I know, I said ex. You were right about your ex, Adam’s, plans to be a master.”

“Right, right, that obviously what you meant,” Blake replied sheepishly. She hadn’t been referring to Lancer at all.

“Oookay. We should get back to Ren and Nora,” Sun suggested. “Lancer’s little slip let us know that that black knight is a Servant, the Berserker. We should call Ruby and Jaune to let them know.”

“Right, good plan, let’s go.”

Blake dashed off immediately, needing some time to her thoughts.

Adam had a Servant. That should have terrified her. He plainly wasn’t giving up on her, and if he found out about Ruby and Jaune, he wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter them all.

But then why hadn’t he? Twice, in person and through Ilia, he had asked her, peacefully, to join him. The Adam she remembered wouldn’t have asked once. Could it be true? Had her friend truly returned to his senses? If he had, then maybe she could convince him to enter an alliance with Ruby and Jaune. With more than half the Servants in the war on their side, they would actually have a chance of getting the grail and defeating Gilgamesh and Salem.

And maybe she could spend more time with Lancer. She could introduce him to _Ninjas of Love_ and…

No!

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about his stupid handsome face?!?

 

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Diarmuid thought hard as he drifted through the trees behind Mistress Ilia. If the current Berserker was the same one he had encountered previously, the Mistralian countryside was in mortal danger. He would advise Master Adam to seek out and deal with the Servant of Madness before more innocent lives were lost. Preferably while leaving Mistress Ilia behind.

What he had told his master was the truth. He had nothing against the chameleon faunus. She seemed a kind and driven young woman.  But it was for the best of everyone that he kept in spirit form around her. His curse had already doomed him twice. He had to be careful not to make it a third.

His wish was the same as it had been before. He wanted to serve under a lord, to ensure that he could bring their dream into reality. Kayneth had been a selfish man, desiring the chalice only for the status acquiring it would bring. Not a sinful thing on its own, but in hindsight, his cowardly tactics had made the quest shameful.

Diarmuid was not a fool. He understood that direct combat was not always the most desirable path to victory. Had he not encountered Saber in the last war, perhaps he would have been content to allow Berserker to thin the ranks of the other heroes and then face the weary survivors.

But after dueling the King of Knights herself? How could he sit back and allow such an honorable and worthy hero to be slain when she could not utilize her full strength? How could he dishonor her by robbing her of a true quest for the grail? How could he dishonor the heroes who would battle her by leaving her unable to face them with her full strength?

The only noble recourse had been to conclude their battle on fair and honorable terms.

Such a shame her master had not agreed.

Despite his dying curse, Diarmuid knew Saber was not at fault for what had occurred. The look of shock on her face when he had driven Gae Dearg through his chest was proof enough of that.

Still, he couldn’t dispel his rage at her. She did nothing. She just stood there, as powerless as he was against the whims of the dishonorable.

But fate had given them both a second chance. She had been summoned again, just like he was. She was somewhere on this continent, her master once again a coward.

This time, they would finish their duel.

Diarmuid shook his dissipated head. No, he couldn’t get caught up in his own desires. The cause of his lord came first. Especially, since Master Adam sought such a noble end, the freedom of his entire species.

The very thought made the knight puff with pride. After all his troubles, he had finally found a master who sought something larger than his own ego.

Finally, he could fulfill his oath with pride.


	23. Moonlight Discussions

Mordred was bored.

Seriously, that Grimm attack was the most eventful thing to happen on the route between safehouses and those things barely even put up a fight. Why were they even hiding from the other Servants? She could kick all five of their asses without breaking a sweat!

Instead, she was laying against a tree in the middle of the night, with no more food. So what if they would have run out of money? She saved that entire village. That should have been worth some sort of discount.

“Ugh,” she snorted. She yawned, preparing to dowse off just to pass the time. “Why did I have to get stuck with a cowardly pretender for a master?”

_“Alright, Jaune. Just like we practiced.”_

Mordred’s eyes shot open. She didn’t recognize that voice.

The brown jacketed knight rose up and followed the sound through the woods. She arrived just outside a small clearing, gleaming with moonlight.

In the center, was Jaune, his shield out and his sword at the ready. He seemed to be alone.

“The hell?” Mordred muttered. “Then who did I—"

_“Follow these instructions.”_

Mordred scanned the arena, zeroing in on the voice’s origin. It was Jaune’s scroll, sitting on a nearby stump.

The device was playing a video of some girl with red hair.

_“Shield up,” the girl instructed._

Jaune raised his shield up.

_“Keep your grip tight.”_

Jaune tightened his grip.

_“Don’t forget to keep your front foot forward.”_

Jaune’s front foot shuffled slightly in the grass.

_“Ready?”_

The boy’s eyes narrowed at some invisible enemy.

_“Go.”_

Jaune shouted as he stabbed forward.

_“Again.”_

He swung around into a slash, his blade glowing a soft gold.

_“And again.”_

He whirled around, striking an even larger imaginary foe. As he attacked, the golden glow around his blade seemed to swirl around into a cascading spiral, a powerful typhoon just waiting to be unleashed.

“The Hammer of the Wind King,” Mordred muttered from her hiding place. “How can he do that?”

Jaune panted after concluding his sequence. This was clearly not his first time doing it tonight. He turned to the scroll and stared at it with a pained look in his eyes.

_“Okay, assuming you aren’t cheating, we can take a break,” the girl in the video chuckled. “I know this can be frustrating. And it can feel like so much effort just to progress such a small amount, but, I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I’ve never met someone so determined to better themselves. You’ve grown so much since we started training, and I know this is just the beginning.”_

_The redhead nervously twitched in the video. “Jaune… I… I…” She turned back to the camera and forced an earnest smile on her face. “I want you to know I’m just happy to be a part of your life. I’ll always be here for you, Jaune.”_

The video filled with static as it rewinded.

Mordred charged into the clearing. “How did you do that?” she demanded.

Jaune whirled around on her. “Mordred?” He shuffled over to his scroll and paused the video of the girl. “What are you doing here?”

Mordred stalked over and lifted him up by the scruff of his hoodie. “Don’t play games with me, pretender. How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“The Hammer of the Wind King, you idiot! Only father can you use that technique.”

“The Hammer of the Wind King?” Jaune’s eyes lit up despite the danger he was in. “Wait, wait, wait, King Arthur’s Hammer of the Wind King? The skill he used to win the Battle of Camlann?”

“What?” Mordred dropped Jaune to the ground. As he trudged himself into a sitting position, she stared him like he’d grown a second head. “Father didn’t use Strike Air at Camlann. Who told you that nonsense?”

“Umm, mom. It was one of her bedtime stories,” Jaune explained. “She told me how King Arthur, or her, I guess, defeated the evil King Lot at the Battle of Camlann and saved the kingdom of Camelot.”

Mordred closed her fist and shook with rage. “Lot?”

Jaune cringed. “I take it that’s not what happened?”

“Lot wasn’t even at Camlann!” Mordred exploded. She stomped away from Jaune and paced at the end of the clearing. “Ridiculous, just damn ridiculous, who does he think he is? Lot? Lot! He replaced me with—”

“So, she didn’t defeat King Lot?” Jaune inquired timidly.

Mordred turned back to him. “What? Oh, no, he defeated King Lot. Just not at the Battle of Camlann. He actually dealt with him a few years before at the Battle of Astolat.”

“Oh, Astolat.” Jaune scratched his chin in thought. “I think I remember that one. But mom said that he escaped then.”

“Escaped?” Mordred exclaimed incredulously. “As if. Tristan may have turned out to be deserting crybaby, but there was no finer archer in Camelot. He wouldn’t have missed that shot, not after everything we’d done to set it up for him.”

“Really? What happened?” Jaune asked, sounding legitimately curious.

Mordred smirked with pride. “Well, everything seemed to be going to shit at first. Lot had enlisted so many mages to work for him that with mother’s help they were able to erect a mystical barrier to keep Lot and his army safe from our frontal assault. No one could break through, and they closed in on us from all sides.”

“Yeah, I remember this part” Jaune excitedly recalled. “Merlin couldn’t help because he bit his tongue during his counter incantation.”

“Eh, no. He was still hungover,” Mordred corrected. “It was his birthday the night before and he’d visited every brothel in the kingdom.”

Jaune raised an eyebrow. “Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time, went to brothels?”

“Of course, he was half incubus. There wasn’t a single court session he didn’t walk into late. In fact, one time, when he came into the Round Table and said ‘Sire, I have terrible news’, Gwaine joked ‘you finally got one pregnant?’”

Mordred and Jaune both burst out laughing. Master and Servant both fell to the ground and rolled around in the grass like the siblings they were.

Above them, the shattered moon glowed softly. A reprieve for the children they might have been.

Eventually, Jaune pulled himself together and propped himself into a sitting position with his shield. “Okay, so without Merlin, how did you guys beat Lot?”

Mordred sat up on her knees. “Oh, that’s the best part.” Her hands flew around wildly, painting a picture of the scene. “We were backed against the river, outnumbered two to one. None of our attacks could hurt them. It seemed all hope was lost. Then, suddenly, from the east with the rising sun, sounded a horn any knight of Camelot knew by heart. It was Sir Lancelot!”

“Sir Lancelot!” Jaune chanted.

“Sir Lancelot,” Mordred confirmed eagerly. “Fresh from christening his sword Arondight in dragon’s blood, he rode down the hills with a force of three hundred horsemen and smashed King Lot’s flank. My mother was so desperate to stop the collapse, she spread her shield too thin.”

“And that’s when you charged,” Jaune realized.

“That’s when we charged. Father, Gawain, Gwaine, Bedivere, and of course, me, unleashed the fury of the Round Table on all who threatened the king’s citizens. I must have slain at least a thousand barbarians that day,” Mordred narrated, a wide smile plastered on her face. “Eventually, Lot got so scared he sent all his mages into the battle just to hold us off. But without any spellcasters to protect him, Tristan nocked his bow and put an arrow through his eye.”

“That’s amazing!” Jaune shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

“I know!” Mordred squealed. She then realized what she was doing. She coughed into her fist. Squealing was not an action becoming of a king.

She stood and looked away from Jaune, but couldn’t help the soft smile that came to her lips. “I haven’t thought about that battle in ages. Sad, huh? It was probably the best moment of my life.”

“No, it makes sense,” Jaune assured, a tinge of regret in his voice. “The best moments of our lives are great, but, a lot of the time, they’re followed by the worst moments.”

He didn’t know how right he was. It was only a few months after the Battle of Astolat that her mother came to her in the halls of the castle and told her the truth. She was not just some random witch’s homunculus, but the son of King Arthur himself!

Of course, father’s hatred of Morgana had dashed any happiness from that revelation. It was all a downward spiral from there.

Why couldn’t father have just recognized her as heir?

Why did he hate her so much as to deny her even the place of the villain in their story?

Camlann was her battle, her final resting place.

Was she not even worth being fought in his eyes?

Mordred whirled around to ask Jaune those same questions, but stopped when she found him staring at his scroll.

The device was paused on a frame of the red-haired girl who had been giving him instructions. Now having a closer look, Mordred thought she seemed impressive. True, she could only be seen from the chest up, but her muscles were clearly defined from rigorous training and the armor appeared to be of fine temper.

A tear trailed down Jaune’s eye.

“Who was she?” Mordred inquired.

“Huh?” Jaune looked up at his Servant. He wiped the tear from his face. “Oh, Pyrrha. Her name was Pyrrha Nikos. She was my partner.”

“She looks like a fine warrior.”

“She was,” Jaune smiled. “She was the best. Mom didn’t want me to be a huntsman, so I was completely useless when I got to Beacon. But Pyrrha, she believed in me. She taught me everything I know, made me worth something and never asked for anything in return.”

Mordred got a sly grin. “Really? Not even a kiss?”

Jaune chuckled. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Yeah,” Mordred told him. She’d only see the end of the video once and even she could tell. “Only an idiot wouldn’t notice.”

Jaune sighed.

“Oh my god, you never noticed, did you?”

“I figured it out when she kissed me,” he mused sullenly. “But then, she shoved me in a rocket locker and went off to fight a battle she couldn’t win.”

Mordred raised an eyebrow. “Why would she do that?”

“Because she was the only one who could,” Jaune whispered. “Pyrrha believed that if there was the smallest chance she could help someone, then she should. Even if it meant facing the impossible.” A soft smile graced his lips. “She was a hero.”

“She was dumb,” Mordred summarized.

Jaune glared up at her. “Excuse me?”

“She was dumb,” Mordred repeated. “Only a fool would give up their life for something so nebulous as their beliefs.”

Jaune shot to his feet. “She did it to stop a psychopath! She did it to save everyone!”

“And how well did that turn out? What has actually changed for the better?” Mordred sneered. She wasn’t trying to be cruel to the idiot, but him idolizing someone who tried to do the impossible was only going to get him killed. If you couldn’t do something, then you couldn’t do it. Trying anyway was foolish. “The person she couldn’t beat survived and killed her, didn’t they?”

Jaune averted his eyes. “No, she didn’t. I asked mom to help her, and that got them both killed.”

Mordred's eyebrow twitched. She couldn’t have heard him right. She’d suspected but he couldn’t have actually… “You got father killed?”

“That’s why I have to get the grail,” Jaune exclaimed. “I have to bring them back. It’s my responsibility—”

Mordred punched him to the ground. That idiot pretender! Did he really think…

“You got father killed,” she growled. “As well as a girl you claim to care for. And now you have the _gall_ to insult their deaths with your selfish wish?”

“Selfish?” Jaune snarled, crawling to his knees. “How is wanting to save them selfish?”

“Every warrior under the sun lives their life knowing it could end at any moment,” Mordred shouted. “Father was no exception, nor likely was your partner. They made their choices, however foolish they were, knowing they could lead to their deaths. They accepted that as the path they chose. You want to negate their impact on history just to assuage your own guilt!”

“They didn’t choose to die!” Jaune yelled back, jumping to his feet. “Mom wanted to save Pyrrha but couldn’t. Ru… the person who killed mom didn’t even want to. Bringing them back isn’t selfish!”

“Do you plan to ask them if they wish to return? If they wish to have their lives unwritten?” Mordred queried.

Mordred knew all about having others make your choices for you. She had had her whole life planned out by her mother. Everything she ever was, was part of Morgana’s plot of vengeance against her father. She had never been given any other option but to be involved in the scheme, groomed since birth to infiltrate the Round Table until the time was right to strike. Until Morgana revealed her parentage, and she decided to choose to be King Arthur’s son. She would not bring down the kingdom. She would be its heir and lead it into a new, glorious era.

Father’s refusal to accept that choice led to her own rebellion. That had not gone as planned, but at least she had been able to go out on her own terms. She had no regrets.

Jaune opened his mouth to try to answer, but closed it again without saying a word. Mordred wasn’t surprised. He may have been an idiot, but it wasn’t like anyone could argue with the truth.

She turned away, her job done.

“What’s your wish?”

She turned around and quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well, you’ve made your thoughts on what I plan to do if we win pretty clear. So, what’s your wish? What’s so important that you’d choose to be a part of this war?” Jaune asked.

Mordred sighed. Really? He was only just now wondering about her wish? They’d been traveling for months and the thought hadn’t crossed his mind to find out why she was fighting? Pitiful.

Still, there was no harm in answering his question. “My wish is to draw Caliburn from the stone. When I win the grail, I shall use it to arrive before father ever hears of the Sword of Selection, and I shall take it for my own. From there I shall rule as the rightful king of Camelot.”

It was the only thing she longed for. To prove to all that she was, beyond any doubts that her father had, a worthy heir to the King of Knights.

Jaune stared at her for a moment. Obviously, the fool was dumbstruck by the pathos of a true wish for the almighty chalice.

Then, he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Mordred yelled.

“That’s your wish?” Jaune chortled. “You just spent how long, telling me it’s selfish to want to bring people back from the dead. And your wish, is to steal mom’s throne? How hypocritical can you get?”

“My wish is not selfish,” Mordred declared hotly. “I will draw Caliburn because I am worthy of it. And under my rule, Camelot will flourish more than it ever did under my father.”

She felt like there was some other reason that she didn’t want father to be king, but it slipped her mind at the moment.

Jaune didn’t agree with her sentiment. “Oh sure, it will be great. All hail King Mordred, or else she’ll throw a hissy fit and punch us all in the face!”

Mordred’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t you dare mock me.”

Jaune grinned at her, though the smile was anything but pleasing. “Mock you? I wouldn’t dare, your majesty. Please don’t cut off my head!”

Mordred punched him in the face once more. She panted heavily as she loomed over him, barely containing her rage.

Jaune struggled to a sitting position, seeming much less affected than he had been at her past attacks. He glared defiantly at her towering figure.

“You’re a jerk,” he declared, his eyes harsh and unforgiving. “I don’t know what happened between you and mom to make you like this, and as of now, I don’t care. I’ve messed up more than I can ever make up for and I’m on this suicide mission because it’s my only chance to fix it. So, if you’re not going to help me, shove off, _your highness_. I don’t have time to clean up your mess, too.”

He stood up and stared Mordred right in the eyes. He dusted himself off and gathered his shield and sword. “I’ll win this war myself if I have to.”

He returned to the center of the clearing and resumed his training stance.

Mordred seethed. In a flash of red lightning, Clarent was in her hand and she bolted across the grass, her brown duster waving behind her.

Jaune took a practice swing, expecting air, and found his sword crossed with hers. He raised his shield in his left hand while putting all his strength behind the blade in his right.

Mordred didn’t need to put much power into her one-handed grip to hold him back. All of it went into her glare. “What right have you to judge me? Father raised you, loved you, sheltered you. Gave you everything he denied to me, his rightful heir! What could you possibly know about me?”

Jaune didn’t grimace at her words. He didn’t smile at unnerving her or frown at her rant. He just stood there. Almost, bored.

“You would have been a terrible king.”

The moonlight itself stilled at his words.

Mordred staggered back, feeling like she had been struck by Rhongonmyniad a second time. Her father’s words echoed through her mind.

_‘You did not have the capacity to be king.’_

Jaune broke their stare and turned around. He fell back into his movements as if nothing had happened.

Mordred stood at the edge of the clearing. She stared down at Clarent. She had stolen it from the vaults of Camelot shortly after she became regent. It had been beautiful once, in her mind it still was, but there was no denying that having her for a wielder had dulled its grandeur. The brilliant and radiant white blade once said to be more dazzling than any silver had been reduced to a submissive gray.

The blade was supposed to be the ultimate symbol of kingship, but in her hands, it was simply another holy sword, forever in the shadow of Excalibur, just as she was trapped in father’s.

How could she not be though? Father was inhuman like her, but he was perfect. The perfect king who was just and fair, and always saved his people over himself.

She was the only knight who ever surpassed him though (Lancelot was a traitorous deceiver, he didn’t count). She was the only one who ever shook his kingdom to the core and forced it to crumble. Who ever faced his full power and denied him victory.

She surpassed him as a knight. She could surpass him as a king. She just needed the chance.

The pretender wanted help? Fine.

She’d help him in a way that father never would.

“Bring out your broadsword,” she barked.

Jaune turned to her in confusion. “What?”

“You know how to fight with a shield, you’re just wasting breath on it now. The blacksmith said you got a broadsword transformation for that thing. About time you learned how to use it,” she declared.

“You’re going to teach me?” he asked disbelievingly.

Mordred smirked. “No son of King Arthur, even a pretender like you, can be allowed to be so lacking in combat. If you’re going to learn, it’s going to be from the best. So, break the dumb thing out.”

Jaune shrugged and folded his shield back into a sheath. A moment later, he had merged it with his sword to add a good four inches to the blade’s width.

Mordred nodded and raised Clarent in a single hand. “A two-handed broadsword is the weapon of a true knight. The blade is longer and heavier than a regular sword, requiring more skill than a common brigand can possess.” She chuckled. “It’s ironic. That thing’s transformation has a lot in common with an old phrase from the Round Table.”

“What?” Jaune inquired, genuinely curious.

“The sword is strongest as a shield.” Mordred stated reverently. “By its nature, the broadsword prevents you from wielding a shield with it in battle. That loss reduces your versatility, but also in turn increases your power.”

“I get it,” Jaune nodded. “I’m stronger, but I can use that strength for fewer things.”

“Not fewer, one,” Mordred declared. “A knight’s sword has only a single purpose. To protect their comrades and the people they have sworn to defend. That focus, more than any extra inches of steel, is what separates a true knight from the rabble.”

She placed her second hand on Clarent, displaying the poise her master would have to aspire to. He’d probably never reach it, but she’d pull him along as far as he could go. And by the end of it, they might just claim the Holy Grail.

She grinned. “Now then, here I come, pretender!”

Jaune rolled his eyes, but there was a tiny smile on his face. “Are you going to talk all night?”

Mordred charged.

Clarent and Crocea Mors sang softly under the shattered moon.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Ruby watched with tear-filled eyes as Jaune and Mordred’s swords clashed. She walked away as the sounds of their spar echoed through the night.

 _“As I told you master, everything is working out fine,”_ Archer comforted her.

Ruby wiped her tears off with sleeve and smiled. She’d been woken up by the sound of Pyrrha’s voice. She’d traced it to the clearing and seen Jaune training. She thought about saying something, but then Mordred had come in. Then, it got weird.

They started telling stories with each other, then laughing around like she’d remembered doing with Yang when she was younger. Then, Mordred started yelling like usual and punched Jaune to the ground. But, this time he yelled back, making Mordred shake with anger.

Ruby had been worried for her friend’s safety, but Archer had arrived in spirit form and advised her to let things play out. She only agreed when he promised to step in if Mordred got too violent. He told her everything would work out fine.

Sure enough, Mordred was helping Jaune train a few moments later.

“Okay, I admit it, you were right,” Ruby called. “How’d you know she wasn’t going to hurt him?”

_“If Jaune and Saber are going to be useful allies to us, they will have to be able to coup without your assistance.”_

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Call it a hunch.” Archer shimmered in existence, beams of moonlight breaking through the forest canopy to light him with an ethereal glow.

It reminded Ruby of her most recent dream, one of her most confusing yet. Arturia was standing in a doorway, the moon glistening off her brilliant armor. She stared down at a boy with red hair and asked, “Are you worthy to be my master?”

Unlike the others, Ruby was pretty sure she knew what this dream was about. After all, everyone said that Arturia was the Saber summoned for the Fourth Holy Grail War, just like Gilgamesh was the Archer. So, the boy with the red hair must have been her master. He had looked upon the King of Knights with quite a bit of confusion, but also limitless wonder.

She could relate. If he were still alive, she’d love to meet the guy.

“Master,” Archer said, “If I may ask, has your wish for the grail been altered at all by what we overheard?”

“That? Well… I don’t know,” Ruby confessed. Jaune’s wish was what she had expected, but Mordred’s response to it hadn’t been. “I never really thought about saving everyone as taking away their choices. I mean, Pyrrha is only dead because Arturia chose to save me, and Arturia is only dead because I can’t control my stupid silver eye powers.”

If Archer was surprised at the news that she killed Jaune’s mother, he didn’t show it. Knowing him he probably figured it out when she first brought up the silver eyes to him back at Patch. He just never said anything because he was all mysterious.

Normally, Ruby would think that was cool, but it really wasn’t helpful when he didn’t let her know she could talk to him about things that were eating her up inside.

Still, Ruby felt compelled to explain further. She needed him to understand. “We had just fallen from the tower. Uncle Qrow was helping me up, Weiss was there keeping guard, and Jaune… Jaune was crying over Pyrrha’s body. Arturia tried to help him, but that’s when Gilgamesh and Kirei showed up.”

Archer’s eyebrow shot up. “Kirei? Kirei Kotomine?”

“Yeah,” Ruby confirmed, his fist curling in hatred. “He pretended to be my friend, and then nearly killed Yang because he thought it would fun. He fought off Weiss and Uncle Qrow while Gilgamesh threatened Arturia and Jaune. Everyone was so tired, and hurt, and Pyrrha was dead, and he was standing there smiling while he pointed weapons at them, and then… and then everything went white.”

Tears streaked down Ruby’s face. “I only found out what happened when I woke up. Arturia died because of me.”

Archer stayed silent for a few moments, simply letting her cry. At last, he asked, “Did your eyes drive off Gilgamesh?”

“I guess,” Ruby sniffled.

“Then it was the best outcome you could have hoped for,” Archer consoled her. “Saber is strong, but the King of Heroes is in a league of his own. He would have killed you all. One death is a small price to pay for the rest of your lives. It is not your fault.”

“No,” Ruby conceded. She raised her head to face him. “But it is my responsibility.”

“It is not,” Archer growled.

Ruby took a step back in surprise. He had never shown real anger in all the time she’d know him.

“It is not the responsibility of anyone to save everyone,” Archer continued. “To think otherwise is to claim an entitlement unfit for a human being.”

“But that’s what a hero does,” Ruby argued. “My mom always said that a hero’s job is to save everyone they could. And if I can use the grail to save everyone, how is that selfish?”

“To seek the grail, even for the most selfless of reasons, is by the nature of the seeking, selfish,” Archer declared. “To quest for an omnipotent wish granting device is evidence of one’s refusal or inability to accomplish their goals by natural effort.”

“Aargh!” Ruby howled. “So, what? It doesn’t matter what I wish for because it will be terrible anyway? What’s the point of all this then?”

Archer sighed. His hand raked itself over his face in discontent. “You misunderstand. Your wish will be selfish no matter what, not malevolent. There is a difference. But wishing to save everyone, to alter the past out of your desire for a more perfect present, is insulting to those who died for your sake. Don’t let your arrogant guilt blind you. To be a hero is to cause untold tragedy.”

_“Every hero needs a tragedy.”_

Ruby shook her head to evict the memory of Kirei. Archer was hammering the same points her false friend did when Penny died, and it was no more appealing now than it was before.

She didn’t want her friends to die. She didn’t want anyone to die. Especially not just so she could save them.

There had to be something else. There had to be another reason to be a hero. A way that wasn’t selfish.

The way that mom did it.

“A hero does not cause tragedy,” Ruby whispered desperately. “A hero is not selfish.”

Archer laughed. “Are you so sure? Fine then, master. Answer me this. Before all this, before your friends died and your world was in imminent peril, why did you want to become a hero?”

“To help people,” Ruby answered instantly.

“That is what you wanted to do,” Archer refuted. “And you could have done that by becoming a police officer or a doctor. But you chose to be a huntress.”

“It was more romantic.”

“That is an excuse!” Archer roared. “Did you enjoy the weaponry? I’ve seen how you cuddle your scythe. Or did you covet the power, the strength an unlocked aura would grant to a frail little girl? Or perhaps it was vengeance? Did you hate the mother who failed to come home so much that you decided to follow her path solely so you could best her?”

“NO!” Ruby yelled. “I wanted to be close to her!”

Archer took a step back, surprised at the strength of her outburst.

The red reaper collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face. She had finally admitted it. She hadn’t told anyone. Not dad, not Uncle Qrow, not even Yang. They knew the tale of Summer Rose inspired her, made her dream of being the ultimate huntress, saving town after town from the Grimm. And they weren’t wrong. She did want to help people, to do the right thing because it was the right thing.

But she also wanted her mother.

She could barely remember her. Her long white cloak was more distinctive than any face. She didn’t even recall her silver eyes. She had only been a toddler when Uncle Qrow delivered the news.

Her mom died a hero.

She wanted to feel her, remember her somehow.

So, she’d have to be a hero too.

Now she realized how foolish that was.

“What’s the point in being a hero?” she whimpered. “Mordred is psychotic. Gilgamesh is a monster. Even Arturia did everything she could to make sure Jaune didn’t become one. What’s the point in trying to help people if it just hurts everyone?”

Surprisingly, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Ruby cautiously peered upwards, finding herself face to face with Archer. The red-clad Servant helped her to her feet. His expression was almost pitying.

“Do you want the Holy Grail?” Archer asked gently.

“What?”

“Do you want the Holy Grail?” he asked again, his voice still soft.

Ruby blinked the tears out her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Archer sighed. “It is possible to save someone, in a way that will not hurt everyone. However, it is not a benevolent path. It is an equivalent exchange of sorts. To save a life, another must be taken. One will die, and one will live, as you choose.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Ruby protested.

“You do. You just don’t like to think of it that way,” Archer continued. “You chose to become a huntress, an occupation that’s primary purpose is to kill the creatures of Grimm. Soulless or not, they are living creatures. You were content with ending their lives to save those of the humans they might kill in the future.”

Now she understood. “You think I should do what you said back on Patch. Wish to wipe out the Grimm.”

Archer nodded. “I will not pretend it will be an easy task. The competition for the Grail is fierce, and all the other masters will have their own reasons for wanting it. You may have to shed blood you do not want to in order to claim your wish.”

Translation. She’d have to betray Jaune.

That wasn’t going to happen. He was her friend, and even if it was selfish, she still felt guilty for the death of Pyrrha and his mother. She would never turn on him. When they defeated all the other Servants, they would sit down and talk about what would happen between the two of them. They’d figure something out.

They’d have to.

“Master.” She looked up at Archer. “To do this, you will have to serve no other goal but your own. So, one last time, I ask you. Do you want the Holy Grail?”

A thousand thoughts span through her mind. A thousand different things that might be right. She couldn’t be a hero anymore. She couldn’t save everyone.

So, she’d have to save as many as she could.

With that single desire, Ruby nodded.


	24. Origin of Evil

" _Focus Oscar. Focus. Flood them with too much and you'll shatter your bones."_

"You are not being very encouraging" Oscar protested.

The farm boy sighed and put up his fists. He focused for a moment, and green lines lit up all along his arms. He pulled his right hand back and punched a thick tree trunk. When he removed his fist, there was a hole half a foot deep in the bark.

" _Well done. It seems your reinforcement is coming along nicely." Ozpin complemented._

Oscar flexed his fingers. "No aches. I think I might be ready for that tracking spell you wanted me to do."

After taking the train to Haven, Ozpin had been disconcerted to discover that the headmaster of the school, Leonardo Lionheart, had seemingly ignored several specific instructions he had left for him. Add to that the infiltrators who instigated the Fall of Beacon came from Haven with clearly false files, and he had felt it best for Oscar's safety if they steered clear of his old friend until they had reunited with Qrow.

In the meantime, he had taken to instructing Oscar in combat and mage-craft. With Excalibur standing in for their cane, the boy had adapted to his predecessor's fighting style quite quickly. He was no master, but he wouldn't be easy prey for the Grimm anymore.

Magic had been a slower affair. Oscar was hardly talent-less, but the downside of being granted so many magic circuits was that it was very easy to use too much  _prana_ than was good for the body. Especially one that was new to wielding such immense power.

Fortunately, they had been able to make strides in such control. Oscar was getting the hang of magical bolts of energy and reinforcement.

Though, considering the complexity of the spell suggested…

" _I would prefer it if you allowed me to be in control for that" Ozpin requested. "The mystic bond we'll be taking advantage of is a potent one. As strong as that between a master and a Servant. One wrong move could cripple you for life. And that's if you're lucky."_

Oscar shook his head but there was a smile on his lips. "Guess I wouldn't want you to be laughing at me forever. I'd be 'the only Ozpin to ever blow himself up'."

" _Actually—Yes. You would be the only Ozpin to ever do that."_

Oscar wasn't even surprised anymore.

He trudged over to his pack and pulled out Excalibur. He sat on the ground with his legs crossed and laid the sword across his lap.

"Okay, all yours."

The boy's eyes glowed green for a moment. Suddenly, they had a far older, more withered look about them.

Ozpin placed his hands upon the holy sword and began chanting an incantation. His arms glowed with turquoise  _prana_ lines and then the blade they held lit up with a soft emerald hue.

" _Why do we need to find this thing?" Oscar inquired from inside their mind. "I thought Excalibur was all we needed."_

Despite himself, Ozpin smirked.

' _Excalibur is a mighty weapon' he conceded mentally. 'But my old friend already has a version with her. I retrieved this for her son.'_

" _That still doesn't answer my question."_

_Ozpin shook his head. "Arturia is one of the greatest warriors to ever live. But against the foes we now face, she doesn't stand a chance unless she is at full power. And she will need all of her tools in order to triumph."_

" _I thought you said we were looking for a sheath? How much good could it possibly do in a fight?"_

_Ozpin grinned. "More than you'd think."_

* * *

_**RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE** _

Weiss deftly bounded through the air, a blast of violet  _prana_ barely missing her chest. She skidded across the black floor, her heels still getting used to the castle's volcanic rock.

"Getting slow, Ice Queen!" Emerald taunted from across the training ground. "Are you sure you don't want to take a break? Caster can only take it easy for so long."

Weiss glared at Emerald and her Servant from across the arena. For the past four months, they'd been serving as her sparring partners on Salem's orders. Their battlefield was a sizable circular chamber deep within the castle. Sometimes they would work together to fend off hordes of Grimm the Queen called, but more often than not, they would be pitted against each other.

Neither of them were foolish enough to believe Emerald was supposed to get anything out of such training sessions. These duels were supposed to push Weiss to her limit, to grow beyond what she had previously believed was possible.

It irritated her to no end that the strategy was working.

Weiss conjured a line of glyphs up the chamber's wall and then dashed up their trajectory. As she ran, she waved Myrtenaster through the air. Three summoning sigils flared to life around Emerald and Caster.

' _My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.'_

Two Boarbatusks and the Arma Gigas rose from the glyphs, their shining ethereal forms illuminating the dark cavern.

Weiss detested Salem with every fiber of her being, but she could not deny that she had flourished under the Mother of Grimm's tutelage. Beyond informing her of the Holy Grail War, the Queen had taught Weiss more about summoning than Winter ever could. She had been given a chant to recite in her mind every time she called forth a familiar, and that alone made the task easier on her aura, almost like the countdown before a race allowed the runner to prepare their sprint. It was so infuriatingly simple, the heiress cursed herself for not thinking of it on her own.

But Salem had also instructed Weiss to think of her summons differently than she had before. While under Winter's mentor-ship, she had thought of her trials and turmoils against her most challenging foes in order to call them to her side. Salem had instead suggested that she empathize with the defeated Grimm. Feel their rage, their hardship, as they attempted to do only what they were made to do, and yet were stopped at every turn and inevitably silenced. Weiss was surprised by how much she could relate to such a feeling given her similar experiences with her father.

Though since the Grimm had been trying to annihilate humanity, while she had been trying to become a huntress, she didn't feel too much pity for the creatures of darkness.

Nevertheless, the new approach was marvelously effective, and Weiss found herself able to call upon three summons at once.

Now if Caster would just stop blowing them up.

Just the three familiars rose from their glyphs, the Servant of the Spell conjured a trio of sigils around her and fired a purple laser beam from each (The witch insisted they were concentrated streams of  _prana_. Weiss called them lasers just to get on her nerves).

As expected, the Arma Gigas was torn to shreds by the blast. However, due to an extra dose of aura supplied by Weiss, both Boarbatusks put on a burst of speed and dodged the violet streams of death.

Weiss grinned and leaped off the wall, her rapier poised as she dove at Emerald.

The thief brought up her revolvers and unleashed a volley of dust rounds. Weiss threw up a glyph in front of her and used the glowing sigil as a shield against the barrage. She then bounded off of it and positioned herself right above her opponent. Another glyph in leap down from, and the Ice Queen rocketed down, her saber's dust chamber already turning.

Predictably, Emerald jumped back to avoid being crushed by the falling stab. Unfortunately for her, Weiss had expected as such and when Myrtenaster struck the floor, a wall of ice sprouted up ten feet high. This not only provided a barrier between Weiss and the physically reinforced thief, but it also blocked Caster's view of one of the Boarbatusks.

The witch easily blasted through the obstacle, but the few precious milliseconds of delay allowed the Grimm of that side to close the distance. Weiss pirouetted around her frozen defense and launched a large shard of ice at the Servant.

Caster's hand glowed and nonchalantly blew the attack into smithereens. The Boarbatusk was only a few feet from her.

Weiss smiled. She had been paying close attention to Salem's lessons and knew that every Servant class had a weakness. Berserkers and Riders had weaker magic resistance than the other classes. Most Archers, though deadly at range, were more vulnerable up close. Casters and Assassins, while still somewhat superior to normal humans, had pitiful physical capabilities compared to their fellows. Thus, a creature of Grimm, augmented by Weiss, could be a serious threat if proper distraction was provided.

The Boarbatusk pounced at Caster. The witch flickered a sigil in front of her. A laser tore the black beast to pieces a moment later.

And the second pig Grimm leaped at the Servant's back.

Weiss had done it. Caster's magic was powerful, but each circle required a crucial moment to blink into existence before its magic fired. A moment that the witch did not have with the Boarbatusk on her back.

Weiss had finally done it.

Suddenly, a jagged dagger flashed into the Servant's hand. Whirling around, Caster thrust the short blade into the approaching Grimm. As soon as the weapon made contact, the Boarbadusk gave an ungodly shriek, wailing in pain unlike any Grimm Weiss had ever seen.

Then, there was a flash. When it faded, the beast was gone.

Weiss couldn't help the slack-jawed expression on her face.

"Heads up!"

Weiss spun around to the voice, only to be met by Emerald's kama to the face. The heiress smacked into the ice wall and slumped to the ground, her aura broken.

Caster walked over to them while Emerald smirked. "Guess we win again. How many times is that now, Ice Queen? A hundred and fifty to none?"

"One hundred and fifty-six, master. Please don't sell us short" Caster teased.

Weiss growled and punched the floor in frustration. So close! She was so close!

A slow clap echoed throughout the chamber. All three warriors turned to see their mistress enter, a pleased smile on her lips.

"Excellent work, all of you" Salem praised. "Emerald, you and Caster have grown to be an excellent pair. I have little doubt you will be able to crush our adversaries."

"Thank you, my Queen" Emerald bowed.

Caster gave the Grimm woman a respectful nod, a compromise between her previous indifference and the formal bow demanded.

Salem turned to Weiss. "My dear Weiss, you have advanced admirably in your summoning studies and your strategies. Were it not for Caster's Noble Phantasm, you may have even gained the upper hand."

Her Noble Phantasm? That's what that knife was?

Weiss glanced at the weapon as it disappeared from Caster's hand. The blade was crooked, seemingly brittle. Really, it looked like it should have shattered the moment it struck the Boarbatusk. Instead, the phantasmal beast had disintegrated.

Salem motioned with her hand, and Weiss rose to her feet. "Emerald, you and Caster may rest for the day. Weiss, come with me. There is something you should see."

Emerald bowed again, and Salem turned and down another dark hall. Weiss picked up her sword and dutifully followed.

The winding passage they walked down was unfamiliar to Weiss, but that was to be expected. She had hardly been given free rein of the castle. Even still, the dark obsidian seemed to be sloping downward. Perhaps they were headed towards the dungeon?

Maybe she could find out where father and Whitley were? Then, she would be one step closer to affecting an escape.

Granted, that would still leave a thousand more to figure out, but one by one was still progress. She had already gotten permission to carry Myrtenaster with her, after all, she would be no use to Salem if a stray Grimm got lucky with her unarmed. Of course, if she couldn't take down Emerald and Caster, she doubted she was a threat to Salem even with her sword.

"How have you been doing these last few months, Weiss?" Salem asked out of nowhere. "Has your food been adequate? Your bed too hard? Would you like a Beowolf pack to slaughter? Tyrian used to love those."

Weiss sighed. She was used to Salem's unique personality by now. Terrifying monster she was, the Queen of the Grimm was like a doting grandmother when she was in a good mood. Once Weiss succumbed to her demands, she had been provided with a suite more lavish than even her room at home. Floating Seer Grimm had attended to all the housekeeping and provided her with gourmet meals at the first sign of hunger. She didn't know where they got the ingredients, but the food was delicious.

If packs of Goliaths hadn't been roaming outside her window, it could have been mistaken for a vacation home.

Besides, there was one thing that Salem refused to provide Weiss with.

"Everything has been wonderful, your grace," the girl said. "But, I was wondering if I could see my brother. Or my father?"

Salem frowned at that. "Why?"

"I wish to make sure they are alright and—"

"No, not that. Why do you want to see them?" Salem inquired. "Correct me if I am wrong, my dear, but the intelligence I gathered did not depict either of your family members in a favorable light. Your father stripped you of your family's name and your brother stole your position of heir. I'm sure there was a great deal more drama beneath all that, none of which was pleasant for you I imagine."

Weiss gulped. "We have had our differences, it is true. But they are still my family and I wish to make sure they are alright. I care about them."

"You care about them? How sad" Salem sighed. "Family like that is not worth caring about, my dear. They will cast you out and claim it was your own sin that forced them to do so."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Speaking from experience?"

Salem spared a glance at the girl. Her long gown trembled as whatever was hidden beneath it squirmed in irritation.

Weiss kicked herself for forgetting who she was talking to, even for a moment. A flippant comment like that could get her family killed.

Luckily, the Queen of the Grimm's frown was introspective, not wrathful. "Indeed. It was a long time ago. An age when your ancestors' ancestors had yet to be born. I was an ordinary villager of a minuscule town in the desert. One day, the holy men of the tribe decided that the methods of righteousness were insufficient in bringing salvation to humanity. They decided that the evil of men had to be concentrated into a single person, and that person would have to be punished beyond imagination."

Weiss cringed at the disturbing tale. She could guess where it was going. "They chose you?"

Salem nodded. "I was no more evil than any other man. But yes, they chose me." Her fist curled at her side. "And my  _family_ cheered as loud as the rest when the daggers were driven into my body. They stood by and laughed as I was beaten, carved with every word that cursed mankind, forced to endure every sin imaginable, and held him responsible for all of it in the world."

Weiss lowered her head in horror. Even with all that Salem had done to her, she could not hear what she had endured and not sympathize with her. Even if she didn't understand how the being before her had ever been human.

"They did not allow me to die until old age finally took me" the Queen continued. "After all my suffering, I had hoped that I had earned rest. But I was not so lucky. You see, my torment, my forced sacrifice had eased the minds of my people. They drew  _hope_ from annihilating the one they decided was all the world's evils. So, in a way, my actions were heroic. And by consequence, were recorded in the Throne."

Weiss' eyes widened in shock. "You're a Servant?"

Salem grinned. "I was. Now, I am so much more."

The two arrived in a circular chamber, far larger than the training arena. It was almost as big as Beacon auditorium. The walls scaled up farther than Weiss could see, their obsidian coats shining with an ethereal twinkle.

In the center of the chamber was a wide pit. Weiss warily looked over the edge. At the bottom of the deep fall was a pool of churning black mud, bubbling and squirming with barely contained ill intent.

Yet, that was not the most curious thing in the room. For embedded in the back wall, was an enormous sphere of sparkling gold. No, that was insufficient. The orb was not any color, but it was… bright. An all-powerful bright light that hummed with power. It contrasted so sharply with the crushing darkness of the rest of the castle that Weiss had to avert her eyes from the glorious sight.

Salem glided over to the magnificent orb, scowling as she drew closer. "Eventually, I was called to do battle in the Third Holy Grail War, though as I had never been anything more than a normal man, I was quickly defeated. But, while the other Servants were allowed to retreat through the grail with their wish unobtained, I was burdened with the wishes that all of humanity had placed on me. The selfish desire of the human race to have a being of All the World's Evils to destroy. The sheer number of desires compounded in me overwhelmed the chalice and I was imprisoned in the Greater Grail, fused and forced to seek out the existence others wished for me."

"The Greater Grail?" Weiss muttered. She dared to peek at the giant sphere of light. "That's the Holy Grail? I thought it needed a vessel."

"The Lesser Grail is brought forth from the vessel and channels the  _prana_ of the defeated Servants into making whatever changes are desired by the winner's wish" Salem explained. "The Greater Grail is its consciousness that contracts the Throne of Heroes and chooses the masters."

The Queen of the Grimm pressed her fingers to the surface of the grail. Immediately, her white skin began to smoke, but ripples did cascade across the orb's surface.

Weiss cringed in disgust. "It doesn't seem to like you."

Salem removed her fingers and shook her smoking hand. "Indeed. While I maintain some connection, the grail has, for the most part, vaccinated itself to my influence. I can no longer control the wish it grants."

That brought a smirk to Weiss' lips. It seemed this demon wasn't all powerful after all. She might still have a chance of surviving this ordeal.

"If I may ask, your grace, how did you go from being a lowly Servant to the glory of what you are now?" she inquired, laying the flattery on thick. If the Queen was monologuing, it would be to her benefit to learn what she could.

Salem chuckled. "My, my, getting personal, aren't we, my dear? I shall not bore you with the tale. Suffice to say, I was wounded in a great battle shortly after leaving the grail. I used the last vessel of the Lesser Grail, one Irisviel von Einzbern, as a template for a new body. Even then, it was only the compassion of The Last Hero that allowed me to flourish into what I am now. He inspired the Grimm."

Pushing aside who this 'Last Hero' might be, Weiss focused in on the subject that truly intrigued her. No one knew where the Grimm came from. If she could discover their origins, perhaps she could find a way to destroy them for good.

"Your grace, I find myself curious, what are the Grimm?"

Salem's smile should have been her first warning that she wouldn't like what she learned. The Queen turned to Weiss with her grandmotherly mask. "Let me answer that question with another, my dear. Why can you summon the Grimm?"

Huh? "My family's semblance can conjure a variety of glyphs" Weiss proposed. "One of them can call forth Grimm we have already defeated to our side."

"My dear Weiss, you're smarter than this. A textbook could have told me that" Salem scolded. "Try again. Why can you summon the Grimm?  _Summon_ , my dear."

What did that have to with…

Oh god.

" _My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny"_ Weiss muttered in horror.

She gazed upon the Greater Grail, too shocked to avert her eyes from the glow.

Slowly, her stare lowered to the pit in the center of the room. The black mud churned beneath her feet, and a newborn Beowolf crawled out of the abyss, its red eyes glowing bright with fury as it scaled the cavern's walls.

Weiss felt a powerful hand grip her shoulder.

"There is no limit to how many heroes may be called from the throne" Salem declared. "Though the degraded forms I can provide cannot allow even near the strength of a proper Servant's body, the spirits still obey me as their master and my  _prana_ keeps them in this world indefinitely."

"That's why the Grimm have no aura" Weiss deduced. "It's not that they don't have souls. It's that their power is forming their bodies."

Salem nodded, pleased. "Exactly, my dear. There is an old saying you may have heard. Heroes kill monsters, men kill heroes, and monsters kill men. I'm not sure what the inventor of the phrase would say in the face of monsters made from heroes."

Weiss stared up at the Queen, somehow more terrified than she had been before. "What do you want from me?"

Salem gave her another grandmotherly smile, but it did not soothe her at all. "My dear, the King of Heroes has proved quite decisively that mere Grimm will not be enough to face him. I have the utmost faith in Hazel, but just in case, I believe that it would be best if you and I called forth more, proper Servants. You need not worry about the strain, Caster can retrieve the grail at the end of the war, so I can fuel your summons to their hearts' content. I don't think it would be safe for you to call more than three still—"

"You want me to help" Weiss interrupted incredulously. Her fists curled up and her eyes narrowed. "No. Never."

Salem raised an eyebrow. "I would remind you that your family is still within this castle, my dear."

"That doesn't matter" Weiss declared. "If you get the grail, you'll use it to wipe out the kingdoms. I won't sacrifice innocent people to a monster like you, not even for my family. The world will go on without the Schnees."

"Innocent?" Salem growled. The monstrosity beneath her gown surged and rived. The Beowolf from the pit finally clawed to the top, only for a black tentacle to burst from under its mother and pierce it through the head. Weiss took a trembling step back.

"There is no such thing as  _innocence_ , my dear. Humanity is a vile creature that seeks salvation by sacrificing morality, and then declares itself righteous for surviving. They want to live, but more than that, they want to be in the right for living. So much so that they declared me a monster for no other reason then so they could be better than me."

Salem turned and stared down at the pit. Her gaze softened under the light of the grail. "If they decide I shall be evil, then I shall be."

Weiss' hand slipped to Myrtenaster. It would do no good to draw it, but she needed the comfort the familiar hilt brought.

Salem sighed. "I will not force you to aid me, my dear. None of my circle have joined me against their will and I have no intention of letting that change. But I promise you, the people you wish to protect so much, they will damn you to hell, just to save themselves."

The Queen turned to exit down the hall.

"What was your name?" Weiss blurted out.

The pale woman paused. "What?"

"What was your name?" Weiss repeated. "Your name when you were a villager."

"My name?" the demon muttered, a distant look in her blood red eyes. "I forgot long ago. They drove it from my mind, shackled me with a new one that made them feel like torturing me was just. The name of a dark god."

"What was it?" Weiss asked, unsure why she was even pushing her luck.

For a moment, the Queen said nothing. Then, she resumed gliding out of the chamber.

"It doesn't matter now. It has no meaning for me. It was forced upon me" she declared. "When I took this form, I took a new name. A name I chose."

Weiss didn't know how, but she was never more terrified or more sympathetic to her captor than in that moment.

"I am Salem, Mother of Grimm and All the World's Evils. And very soon, I shall be all the world."


	25. Relics of the Past

Archer narrowed his eyes as he fervently scanned the tree line, spying only an innocent raven among the foliage. Their group's time traveling Anima had been mostly quiet, with what Grimm they did encounter being easily dispatched by him, Mordred, or Qrow.

Still, his instincts did not allow him to remain calm. What faint memories he maintained from his own time in the Holy Grail War were frantic, with one battle always bleeding into the next with little time for rest in between. Here, despite their time in this world surpassing the entire duration of his war multiple times over, he had yet to encounter an enemy master, other than Jaune Arc.

The all too familiar clang of clashing swords reached his ear. Since the only thing in the trees was a single raven, Archer spared the commotion a glance.

Saber and her master were practicing once again, the Servant very obviously holding back as to not hurt the poor boy.

Archer hadn't been sure what to think when he'd met the children of his Saber. Neither one measured up to her, but few people in any world could, so there was no shame in that. Individually though, they were both irritating to him.

Mordred was a disappointment in every way. He had heard tale of her in the Throne of course, the devilish Knight of Treachery who toppled the greatest kingdom humanity had ever known. He had expected Saber's version of Kirei, a cunning, methodical mastermind, unflappable in the pursuit of her goals, someone who he would have to deal with in the end but would be useful in the meantime. Instead, he got a loud-mouthed oaf with the emotional stability of a two-year-old. She boasted on and on about how she was the only knight to ever surpass her father, but just a cursory trace of Clarent had informed him of just how miserably her final duel with the King of Knights had gone. Her fighting style, though admittedly rooted in an impressive form, was sloppy and relied far too much on brute strength.

Ultimately, Archer was left not with a cunning ally, but a giant stick that might snap and start attacking him because he was too busy fighting his own battle to watch hers.

Jaune Arc was a lost, selfish child, suppressing his grief for those he'd lost to pursue the vain hope that he could get them back. Despite his admirable resolve, his goals were pathetically misguided. Changing the past was dangerous and foolhardy. Whatever events had occurred, they had allowed a future to exist, and for life to go on that was all that was necessary. People made their own choices, and whatever those choices may lead to, people must be allowed to make them. That was the lesson his Saber had come to understand and even Mordred grasped the concept. The boy was so racked with self-loathing that he could never move forward.

He was a mewling newborn, desperately trying to crawl back into his mother's arms instead of facing the world with what she had taught him.

Perhaps he was being too harsh on them. After all, were they not Saber's children, he would have dismissed them as simple human beings. Flawed, but ultimately not offensive.

But they were Saber's children. Which meant now that she was gone, they were her legacy. They needed to either shape up or stop prolonging their insult.

"Archer," a high voice piped up. "Uncle Qrow says the way to the safe house is clear. You don't have to be so tense."

Archer nodded. "Thank you, master. Still, I've learned you can never be too careful in a Holy Grail War."

His master raised an eyebrow at his remark, but seemed to let it go and trudged over to stop Mordred from impaling her brother.

Archer smirked. At least one thing was going well.

Perhaps he should have felt guilty for shattering Ruby Rose's ideal view of the world. The girl's intense care for her friends was a comforting condition and her love and care for weaponry was amusing. Despite how her similarities to  _that boy_ infuriated him to no end, she was only a simple soul, not a broken one. A human, not a sword.

Which was all the more reason to break down any foolish notions of being able to save everyone before they consumed her. Like the memory of the smiling man in the fire, his master was chasing an impossible goal. She wanted to be close to her mother, but her mother was dead. Flying to the battlefield to seek a connection with her would only doom the young huntress to join her.

And he knew from experience how one could be overwritten by the path towards an unattainable dream.

No. He was doing Ruby Rose a favor. She had to understand the unshakable nature of the world. Saving someone meant choosing not to save someone else. The old man had at least been right about that.

The sooner he got the girl off the road of a hero of justice, the sooner he could prevent her from becoming like him. After all, just because he couldn't sense Alaya didn't mean the Beast of Humanity wasn't there, watching in the wings for another soul idiotic enough to accept its bargain.

Archer would do anything to keep anyone else from making the same mistake he did.

He ripped himself away from his observation as the raven flew off. He trailed behind his master as the rest of the group tread carefully through the woodwork. On every couple of trees, there was an arrow carved into the bark, pointing out the next step in their unseen path.

Eventually, they came to a small hill, surprisingly bare in comparison to the thick forest surrounding it. At the top, Qrow Branwen stood in front of a charred ruin.

"Uh, Uncle Qrow, where's the safe house?" Ruby asked.

Qrow sighed, his hand smacking his forehead. "This is the safe house."

"This place?" Mordred snorted incredulously. "It's a ruin. Not fit for a commoner to take shelter in, much less a knight."

"Well I'm sorry, your majesty," Qrow spat back. "But these things haven't been maintained since the last war. Frankly, we should count ourselves lucky this is the first one we've found like this."

"Wasn't the last one missing a wall?" Jaune remarked.

"At least that one had a wall," Mordred joined in with a smirk, giving her master a small nod of approval.

Qrow snagged the flask from his hip. "I hate teenagers" he declared before downing a swig.

Archer walked forward to the remains of the site. Mordred was not wrong about the walls, or lack thereof. What little remained of the structure's supports were but a few charred logs, stacked in a vague pile. There was no roof, and the blackened floorboards were filled with quite a few significant cracks, allowing the Servant to glimpse the dark basement underneath.

He stuck out his hand into the space, and felt a sharp tingle throughout his body.

"This will do," he stated firmly. "Whatever damage the main house sustained, the bounded field remains intact. Saber and I will not be able to exist in spirit form within its confines, and no other Servant should be able to sense us."

Which was really quite impressive. If the house had truly been abandoned for nearly nineteen years as Qrow said, that meant the bounded field was still functioning properly despite not being properly maintained for nearly two decades. Whoever erected it must have taken quite a bit of time to get it right.

Mordred remained unconvinced. "I would rather face the other Servants that dirty myself in that hovel."

"Your battle lust is well known, Saber," Archer dryly remarked. He walked onto the charred floor, examining the remains. "This isn't actually that bad. The structure itself still seems to be sound, the surrounding forest provides plentiful wood…"

"Um, Archer," Ruby inquired, "what are you talking about?"

Archer scratched his chin in deep thought. "With enough time, I should be able to fix this place up. I can create the necessary nails by modifying nameless blades, and stripping the forest shouldn't be too difficult…"

The rest of the group raised an eyebrow. They had never seen him care so much about… well, anything.

"Archer, no offense, but this place is a dump," Ruby remarked shyly.

"Is the Jester a stone mason now?" Mordred insulted. "Perhaps your Noble Phantasm is Sophroniscus' chisel."

"Who?" Jaune asked.

"The most well-known stone mason of Ancient Greece. The father of Socrates."

"Again, who?"

"Did father teach you nothing?"

Archer ignored the others' squabbles as he rubbed a finger across one of the remnants of the walls. Along with the everyday housework, he had done a significant amount of renovation on his old home during his life… perhaps. His memories were incredibly faded at that point. The most he could recall was something about a tiger? Still, with the proper application of his Reality Marble, he was confident he could affect repairs.

Not that he would enjoy doing it all. Housework was something  _that boy_ took pleasure in. He had grown beyond such foolishness

Though with a bit of dusting…

Qrow came onto the floor next to him. The drunkard frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry to disappoint, silver top, but we can't stay that long. We're only stopping to rest."

Archer sighed. He knew the huntsman was right. The safe houses were only meant to provide them protection during the night and keep off any tracking spells the other masters could be using. Fixing it up would not help them reach their goal. It was only a selfish indulgence.

And a sword had no use for indulgences.

"You are correct," he agreed, rising to his feet. "We should step up camp as soon as—"

The burnt-out floorboards beneath his feet suddenly crumbled, and he went plummeting through the floor. He soon found himself up to his arms in the black wood, his legs scraping the stone floor of the basement.

"Archer! Are you okay?" Ruby yelped. She and Jaune ran over to help.

Mordred pointed at him and laughed.

Qrow grimaced. "He has E- Rank Luck. Why do I keep hanging around guys with E-Rank Luck?" he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Archer inquired.

"Oh, nothing," the huntsmen assured him. "Just my semblance being more annoying than usual to people like you."

Strange, if he was referring to Servants, Mordred didn't seem to be having every single wooden structure fall out from under her. Though given how her fit of laughter had driven her to the ground, perhaps it was affecting her differently.

"Do you need any help getting out?" Ruby asked.

"No, it's perfectly alright, master." Archer quickly placed his hands on the more stable floor and pushed himself out of his hole. Once he was standing on even footing with the others again, he dusted himself off. "See, nothing to it."

Ruby smiled softly, her gaze barely meeting his own. Perhaps before their discussion the other night, she would have been fawning all about him like some rabid fangirl with a look of awe in her eyes. It was good that she had matured enough to not act like such a simple act was the labor of a hero.

Jaune kneeled down, observing the dark hole left behind. His eyes narrowed at something in the darkness. "What's that?"

Qrow squinted at where the blonde boy pointed and then leaped down into the pit. Soon after, he hefted up the item within the shadows. It was a sizable steel crate sealed with a series of elaborate runes and a bulky gray padlock.

After lugging it onto more solid ground, the group, minus Mordred who still rolling around in the grass, examined the unexpected find.

"Maybe it's buried treasure," Jaune suggested.

"It's not buried treasure," Qrow rejected.

"But what if it is?"

"No, Uncle Qrow's right," Ruby supported. "Mom would never keep buried treasure to herself."

Qrow sighed. "That's not wrong," he admitted. "Though these markings look like magic stuff. More than likely we can't get in without the key, otherwise something bad—"

Archer conjured Kanshou into his hand and casually slashed the padlock off.

"Or we could just do that and hope it doesn't kill us all," the huntsman growled.

"Relax, Branwen. Any competent mage could tell there was no  _prana_ in those runes," Archer informed him. "Though it is admittedly a curious style of distraction. Other than a mage, I can't imagine anyone understanding the symbols well enough to be stalled by them."

"Salem's lackeys probably," Qrow suposited. He had a disgruntled frown on his face. "Still, what could Summer have wanted to hide from them that she wouldn't trust to me and Tai?"

"Only one way to find out!" Ruby declared, rushing over to the chest. She flipped the lid open and dug around through its contents. She lifted out a small ammunition bandolier, short enough to be worn as a belt. It was filled with eight rather large bullets. The silver-eyed girl grinned. "Oh, these look cool! And they're just around Crescent Rose's size!"

Qrow's eyes widened. "Careful Ruby! That's no regular ammo."

"What do you mean?"

Qrow came over and gently put his hands over his niece's. "They were your mom's trump card. They're called Origin Rounds. They're powerful enough to—"

"Take down a Goliath in one shot," Ruby whispered, fear shimmering in her eyes. She carefully set the bullets down on the grass.

Qrow raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, they are. But the real nasty part is what they do to someone with aura."

"Of course, it is," Ruby muttered dejectedly. "After all, why would he take something that only hurt Grimm."

There was a story behind that. Unfortunately, Archer was too distracted to inquire about it. He was sure he had heard the term Origin Round used somewhere before, but he couldn't put his finger on where.

Jaune walked over and gave Ruby a comforting pat on the back. The red hooded girl gave him a grateful smile in return. "How about you take a look, Jaune?" she suggested. "Maybe you'll find something not creepy."

The blonde boy's eyes widened in surprise. He looked to Qrow for further permission, but the drunkard simply waved him towards the box. It wasn't as if he wasn't already going to see what was in it.

Jaune gulped and leaned over the chest. After a moment of shuffling around, he emerged holding a magnificent golden scabbard, inlaid with enamel of the deepest blue and practically glowing with heavenly authority. From Archer's point of view, it even radiated a faint, but unnaturally pure mystic signature, shining like an ancient star. It could not possibly be an object made by mortal hands. In fact, it almost reminded him of—

"Mine!"

Mordred shot up from the ground and snatched the sheath from her master's hands. She gazed upon it in awe for a few moments before reverently cuddling it against her chest. "Mine at long last," she whispered, a grin the size of Gilgamesh's ego painted across her face.

"Um…okay? What is it?" Jaune inquired.

"Avalon: The Everdistant Utopia," Archer declared. "Your mother's greatest Noble Phantasm."

Mordred's reaction proved it. The sheath was Saber's ultimate weapon, a healing agent so potent that, with her  _prana,_ it possessed defensive powers capable of surviving even the greatest of Noble Phantasms. Somehow, Excalibur's legendary scabbard had made it to Remnant.

Perhaps that wasn't surprising given that Saber had as well, but Qrow had said that whatever brought her, Gilgamesh, and Kirei Kotomine to this time had occurred at the end of the Fourth Holy Grail War. To the best of his knowledge, at that time it had been in the possession of the Mage Killer, who used it to save  _that boy_ from the resulting fire.

But if the fire had never happened, replaced with the catastrophe that led to humanity's near extinction, then how had the holy relic arrived here? And what was it doing in the ruins of Ruby's mother's safe house?

"It is father's greatest possession, even more so than his holy sword. A symbol of true divine kingship," Mordred raved, squeezing it to her chest. "And now, as his rightful heir, it passes to me!"

Jaune still looked confused, but he managed a genuine smile on his face. "That's great, Mor—" Archer glared at him, "—Saber. I'm sure she'd be proud that you have it now."

Mordred stilled, a light blush rising in her cheeks. "Well, yeah, of course. Of course, he would be," she stuttered. "But I don't need his approval. Avalon is mine now."

"You do realize it won't work for you," Archer reminded her. "It needs King Arthur's  _prana_ to power it, otherwise the most it will do is hold your sword."

Mordred growled at him like a feral lion. "Shut up, Jester or I'll shove it up your—"

"Well, well, well," Qrow chuckled. "Haven't seen this in a while. Take a look at this, pipsqueak."

Archer turned back to the scythe wielders and his heart skipped a beat.

"It is that…mom?" Ruby asked hopefully.

Qrow smiled as he handed her the faded photo he'd retrieved from the chest. In the picture was a young girl who looked almost exactly like Ruby, except she had mostly red hair with black highlights instead of black with red highlights and a white cloak covered her body. She was hugging a figure Archer knew intimately.

"Yup. This was taken on her thirteenth birthday," Qrow revealed. "According to her, it was when she got that white cloak of hers. She never took the damned thing off."

"Cool," Ruby whispered in awe. "Who's the other guy?"

"Him?" Qrow chuckled. "That's her dad. Your grandad—"

"Kiritsugu Emiya."

Archer barely had enough time to realize the name had left his mouth before the rest of group whirled on him, their stares ranging from befuddlement to intense suspicion.

"How do you know that?" Qrow inquired, his hand subtly inching towards his weapon.

Jaune and Mordred took a worried step back from him. The Knight of Treachery even strapped Avalon to her side and conjured Clarent in her hand.

Archer couldn't say he blamed them. Even now, his hands uncontrollably clenched and unclenched into fists, unholy fury radiating off him in a merciless killing intent.

Why should it not? Kiritsugu Emiya was the root of all that he was. The winner of the Fourth Holy Grail War, the man who caused the Great Fuyuki Fire, the man who saved  _that boy_ from the hell he should have died in. He was the source of the ideals of Emiya, the one who instilled that infernal dream of being a hero of justice. Every arrow, every bullet, every sword that had pierced Archer's flesh, he was at fault for all of them.

As well as every life he had taken in his asinine quest for a world where no one cried.

"Archer?"

The counter guardian was roused from his rage by the plea of his master. Ruby stood before him, her hand held placatingly in front of her trigger ready uncle. Her silver eyes stared at him imploringly, not with desperation like they had the other night, but with pity.

He recalled the same look in the eyes of two different women. Both strong and valiant, both loved by him dearly.

And both dead.

Dead while he lived undying. A dog of Alaya.

"How? How did Kiritsugu Emiya meet your mother, master?" Archer meticulously spat out.

Ruby turned to Qrow, who shrugged. "Summer never went into details about it. She just said he saved her from a fire after Grimm attacked her village."

A fire. In every world, in every timeline, there was always a fire.

But it seemed  _that boy_  was not the only one who was ever found.

"I see," Archer replied, taking a deep breath to calm his fury. "I will check our path to ensure that we cannot be tracked by mundane means."

"What?" Ruby cried. "Archer, wait—"

He had stepped off the floorboards and dissipated into spirit form before she could finish. Before long, he had floated far beyond their sight. He needed time alone to examine this new information.

Summer Rose was raised by Kiritsugu Emiya. It explained so much. In a world filled with the creatures of Grimm and the old man's strength fading from the grail's spiteful curse, the Mage Killer would have no choice but to pass on his combat expertise to his only remaining daughter in order to protect her, the only one left he loved. And when he passed, that daughter would easily be able to make it into a huntsmen academy, desperate to achieve the dream he had no doubt passed on.

To be a hero of justice.

That childish drivel was admittedly more feasible in a world where literal soulless monsters hounded humanity, but the devils of the species' own nature were as implacable as ever. It was still a selfish, impossible dream. One Summer Rose evidently died seeking. And then passed on to her child like her father before her.

No more.

Archer's centuries as a Counter Guardian had left him ruthless, but not merciless. Normally, he took the surest path to success, as any less would disgrace his ultimate goal. However, Ruby Rose had shown the potential to change for the better. It was possible that he could guide her off the path her mother had damned her to. Besides, he didn't have any other stake in this timeline, and it would be good practice for when he finally encountered  _that boy_.

Nonetheless, should Ruby refuse to change, should she remain stalwart and stubborn on the quest for a world where everyone lived happily ever after, Archer would not hesitate to strike her down.

Those foolish ideals could not be allowed to infect another generation.

* * *

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A raven flew North through the treetops, gliding away from the party of masters and Servants. Once it was several miles away, the bird transformed into a black-haired woman. The woman slashed her sword through the air and stepped through the resultant portal.

Raven walked into her tent to find Vernal waiting, a map of Anima laid out across the table.

"So, how did the tip about the horned knight who single-handedly saved a town from a Grimm horde with a lightning sword pan out?" the bandit lieutenant inquired.

Raven frowned as she sat down. "Your scout was right. It was a Servant, two of them actually."

"With their masters?" Raven nodded. "That's fantastic," Vernal exclaimed. "We can mobilize the tribe, be in the South in a few days, catch up to their trail, and while the Berserkers handle the Servants, we can pin down the masters so you can take their Command Seals."

"It's not that simple," Raven proclaimed. "Qrow was with them. One of the masters is Ruby Rose."

"Your husband's—"

"Yes," she confirmed quickly. She didn't blame Tai for moving on with Summer, she had left without a word, but it wasn't a fact she wanted to linger on. Besides, Ruby Rose was far more important than merely her relation to Summer. She could not be allowed to die. And even with her Servants overwhelming power, with two others to match them, and Lancelot's general uncontrollability, there was a great risk that she could.

Of course, her plentiful scouts across the continent, and her time discreetly watching over Yang in her bird form, had made her aware of other avenues of assault.

"Where is the Belladonna girl's group?"

"Relatively close. They should be hitting the ruins of Oniyuri soon enough. Their White Fang shadow isn't too far behind," Vernal informed her. "What do you have in mind?"

Raven smiled as the plan came together. "I'm going to have a little chat with my brother and his foot soldiers. See if I can get them to surrender without a fight." Gods know she needed as many Servants as she could get with Gilgamesh on the hunt. "And if not, I will handle him while Berserker has a chat with the children and their Servant."

"Servant? What happened to the other one?" Vernal inquired.

"They'll be off dealing with Lancelot. Best if he isn't nearby to disrupt the negotiations."

"How are you going to get them to chase after him that far away? Don't Servant fights tend to have a blast radius a mile wide?"

Raven smirked. "Oh, don't worry. I don't think any fighting in Oniyuri will trouble us."


	26. Umbra Genesis

Four months ago, Whitley Schnee had lived in a mansion. He had been dressed in the finest clothes lien could buy and could call for a full nine-course meal on a whim. He had Servants to fluff his pillows, polish his shoes, and massage his feet. He had been the envy of every man, woman, and child in Atlas and across all of Remnant.

Now, he was trapped in a freezing cell barely larger than his old bed. His once finely pressed suit was now a filthy rag after months without cleaning, and he only ate when that brute Hazel remembered to come and feed him (though he learned not to complain when he learned that the man came of his own accord. The Grimm woman had given no orders for him to be fed). He slept on the black dirt floor of his prison, the only faint light coming from a small barred window open to the red sky above.

That is when a random Grimm wasn't trying to break through it and devour him whole.

Suffice to say, Whitley was sure he was in hell. His frame was thin, it hurt to stand or walk, and most days he woke up only to pray for sleep to return as soon as possible. At least his nightmares were bearable.

For the life of him though, he couldn't figure out what he was doing there. The Grimm woman had wanted to talk to Weiss, but that shouldn't have taken… however long it had taken. Whitley had lost count the torture had gone on so long.

What did the demon queen want with him and his father? She had his sister, so why didn't she let them just go home. She wasn't even doing anything with them for gods' sake!

Though, that led his thoughts to darker places. If it was already so terrible for him, what agony must Weiss be suffering? What secrets did she know that could possibly drive the Grimm woman to send Hazel and the others to kidnap them all? And how strong must Weiss have become to still be keeping them from her?

Whitley misjudged his sister. To have held off their captor's torments for so long, and she must have held out if they hadn't all been killed yet, spoke of incredible fortitude and will. Perhaps she did learn something of value at Beacon. Maybe he was too harsh on her. She had sought to escape father just as he had, she simply chose the most readily available method. There was no shame in that.

If they got out of this hell, he would see to it that she received a share of the company. Her character demanded that much.

At that moment, the door was flung open. Whitley weakly pushed himself up into a sitting position against the wall. Hazel walked through the entrance, though unfortunately without a fresh meal.

The giant man looked over Whitley impassively. "Time to get up, boy," he stated. "The Queen has summoned you."

The Schnee heir pawed his hands up the wall until he was standing. When he wavered, Hazel came over and allowed the boy to lean on his arm. Whitley nodded his thanks, though the stoic man did not acknowledge it, and the two made their way out of the cell.

The flickering torchlight of the halls seemed much brighter to Whitley after months in darkness. He shielded his eyes as best he could as Hazel helped him limp along through the black castle.

"What does she need me for?" he inquired to his escort.

"A test," the brute stated simply.

Whitley sighed. That didn't seem ominous at all.

"Unhand me!" a hoarse voice shouted. "Unhand me this instant!"

Around the corner, Jacques Schnee came into sight, suspended between the tentacles of two Seer Grimm. His eyes were sunken, and his once neatly trimmed mustache had grown long and gray. His muscles looked as shriveled and weak as Whitley's felt, his suit now a size too big for his body. Nevertheless, he thrashed about in his captors' grasp, fire still blazing in his eyes. Let none say that he lacked wrath at his darkest hour.

Of course, lacking wrath had never been his problem.

"You think you can break me, you cretins! I've been slaughtering monsters like you since my days in the SDC Security! I'll run you all back to hell where you belong—" his eyes darted when he caught sight of Whitley. "My boy! Stay strong. Don't let these beasts break you. They're nothing to a Schnee."

Whitley didn't understand how his father's bravado was still intact after their captivity, but he found that it lacked the indubitable gospel it once encompassed. Despite whatever Jacques had deluded himself into thinking, they were trapped. The aura dampening cuffs around his wrists were proof of that.

The two arrived in the throne room. The Grimm woman sat upon her seat, a patient smile on her face. Before her were that green haired girl, the woman in the purple cloak, and…

"Lady Salem, what shall be my studies today?" Weiss inquired on her knees.

The woman, Salem, apparently, glanced at Whitley and his father and grinned. "Oh, it will be your most wonderful test yet, my dear Weiss. But first, I believe you made a request of me, a bit ago. I have decided to grant it."

Weiss turned where the queen was looking, and her eyes widened in horror. Her hands shot up to cover her gaping mouth. "Father. Whitley" she murmured, aghast.

Whitley squinted as much as he could. He couldn't be seeing what his exhausted eyes were showing him. His sister appeared radiant. While he and father were corpses waiting to fall, she looked better than she had at the mansion. Her body was thicker than before, her lithe muscles more defined. Her face was unblemished and lively, her eyes shining pools of crystal. She wore a stunning black gown, similar to what she'd worn at the castle but with a hem slightly below her knees, with dark stockings covering her legs. Her rapier was strapped to her side.

…

Her rapier was strapped to her side.

She had her weapon and she was doing nothing.

He and father were barely surviving, while their  _captor_ had given her fine clothes and training.

Training. Infernal huntress training. Weiss was leaving them to rot, because she wanted to accept huntress lessons from this demon.

Once again, she abandoned him to Beowolves.

He had no sister. He had only himself to rely on. Just like always.

And just like always, he would survive.

* * *

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As the shadows of sunset fell across Patch, Yang danced across the grass, her feet light and her step spry. She bobbed and weaved around her father's swift jabs, remembering old evasion drills she hadn't thought of since she'd learned them.

Her old style had relied too much on her semblance. She would rush headlong into whatever her opponent threw at her, confident that she could take it and dish it back out twice as hard. But, as her father pointed out, the strategy had some serious drawbacks. If her opponent dodged her superpowered strike or was strong enough to shrug off the damage themselves, then she would be left exhausted, beaten, and vulnerable.

So, her dad had advised her on a new tactic. She would observe her opponent, sort out which attacks were strong, and which were weak, and then pick and choose which ones she took. She'd let the weak ones make contact, slowly building up her semblance over the course of the fight, while making sure that anything powerful enough to do real damage missed by a kingdom mile. Any foe she couldn't overpower outright, which was distressingly more than she'd once thought, she would wear down over time before moving in for the final blow.

She couldn't just charge in anymore. She needed to be smarter.

That was the only way she was going to take down Robes.

That was the only way she'd be able to call herself equal to her friends.

The only way she'd stop being alone.

Yang ducked a heavy cross aimed at her head, then barely dodged a kick aimed at her right side. She narrowed her eyes and growled. "Hey, watch the broken arm, dad!"

Taiyang smirked, his fists still up and ready. "An enemy isn't gonna care. If you're going to fight, you've got to be ready."

Yang snorted in disbelief. "That'd be a lot easier to take if you weren't going easy on me."

Taiyang Xiao-Long may have been commonly regarded as the weakest of Team STRQ, but that was like saying a Goliath was weaker than a Wyvern. He was still one of the top huntsmen in all of Vale, probably in all of Remnant. His time teaching at Signal had only afforded him the opportunity to refine his technique. The fact that he hadn't landed a single blow on her the entire spar was laughable.

The man himself sighed. "I'm trying to help you get better, not put you back in the hospital."

"I'm not going to get better if you keep treating me like a kid," Yang shot back, returning to her ready position. "I can take it."

Her father just stared at her, unamused.

Then, he dashed forward, faster than Yang had ever seen him move. He threw a jab right, clearing going for her bandage wrapped arm. She danced to her left but realized too late that it was a feint.

Her father stuck a leg out to her side, right in the path of her dodge. She tripped, and he swept through to deliver a devastating spinning kick to her back as she fell. A moment later, she was spitting out dirt.

Tai shook his head exasperatedly. "You can't take on the whole world alone. Gosh, you can be so much like your mother sometimes."

Yang quirked an eyebrow. "Oh. So now we can talk about her?"

"When, as I have been informed, you're an adult now, remember."

She scowled as she sat up. Zwei came over to hand towels to them both. She snatched one and rubbed off her sweat. "Well, I'm sorry I remind you of her so much."

Her father smiled wistfully. "Don't be. Raven was great in so many ways. Her strength, her ambition, her dedication to whatever cause she thought was worth fighting for. I'm proud of how much of her I see in you. But, I'm glad I don't see _all_ of her in you."

"Why?" Yang inquired softly. What was it that made her different from the woman who abandoned her?

Tai sighed. Zwei came up to him and rubbed his leg comfortingly.

"Your mother was… a complicated woman," he said at last. "Like everyone, she had her faults, but those faults are what drove her team apart. And they did a real number on her family."

The huntsman kneeled down to both Yang and Zwei's level. "You both act like the best way to tackle an obstacle is through it. That strength is all that matters in a fight. But if you take a second look, then maybe you see…" He scratched Zwei behind the ears, compelling the corgi to dash behind Yang, happily panting, "…there's a way around."

Yang nodded slowly. It would take work, but she could do it. But if her father was finally talking about her mother…

"You said that mom fought in the last Grail War, right?"

Her father frowned, a broken look flashing through his eyes. "Yeah, she did. In a lot of ways, that was the beginning of the end for Team STRQ. Afterward, your mom's Servant stuck around, something about getting thrown in some Grimm mud. Apparently, it was supposed to be worse, but the Rider used his Noble Phantasm to stop time. According to Raven, he'd been impressed by his combat skills and wanted to fight him one on one."

Yang smirked. "Sounds like my kind of guy."

Tai chuckled. "Yeah, well good old Lancelot managed to pull out a win, and then he and Raven joined up with the rest of us. We headed to the Grimmlands to meet up with Summer and Lancer, and well, we met Salem."

The huntsman closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory. "We barely got out alive. Fighting her was like fighting her entire domain. If Lancer hadn't shown up when he did, we would have been worse than dead."

Yang bit her lip in dread. But she had to know. "What happened next?"

"Next? We met Gilgamesh," Tai revealed. "Not Kirei, he was probably skulking in the shadows, but we never saw him. Summer and Lancer fought him while the rest of us went for the grail. Unfortunately, it was destroyed by the war's Ruler to keep Salem from getting her hands on it. We got back in time to see Gilgamesh finish Lancer with this…weird, spiral sword. Summer said he called it Ea."

"Why didn't he kill you?" Yang asked. From what she'd heard about the bastard, he didn't seem the type to leave survivors if the grail was denied to him.

"Some sort of sign of respect to Lancer, I think. Summer wasn't in much shape to give any details. So, we all went home, relieved to be alive. Your mom and I got back to our lives as newlyweds. But things... never went back to normal. With Berserker still around, his Madness Enchantment started bleeding onto Raven. She stopped sleeping. She had a lot of private talks with Oz that ended with her storming out of his office. Then, a bit after you were born, she just left. Without a word, and without a note."

Zwei whined at his master knee, cuddling him for comfort. Tai gave him another scratch behind the ears.

Yang sat in thought. If Berserker was affecting her, then maybe…

"Maybe she didn't want to leave?" she proposed. "Maybe the Madness Enchantment was doing something to her and she wanted to deal with it on her own."

Her father frowned. "For nineteen years? Without even a letter? No. If something like that was happening, she would have told us. Or at least Summer. Berserker certainly didn't help matters, but he wasn't the reason she left. That was something else. What, I don't know."

Yang growled. After all this time, she finally got some information on her mother, but everything she learned just seemed to raise more questions.

Why did she leave?

What did she have to gain?

Tai shook his head and smacked her heartily on the back. "Come on," he said, rising. "It's getting late. Let's head in for dinner."

He offered her a left hand up. Yang grinned wryly and accepted her father's assistance.

At least she didn't have to worry about him leaving her.

The two Xiao-Longs and dog happily strolled back to their cabin.

Neither noticed the shadow of a man casting across the grass.

* * *

_**RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE** _

Weiss' mind was overloading with dread. Salem was cunning, methodical. Nothing she did was without purpose. Allowing her to see her family again after months of no word was not an act of kindness. But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what she was doing.

Whitley and father were thin and gaunt, trudging along with Hazel, Emerald, and Caster like lost puppies. Even still, Weiss could see the fire of resentment and defiance in their eyes. They would need it if they were all going to get out alive.

Salem had taken the group on a winding path through the castle, even stopping by Weiss' room and commenting on its plush nature. Eventually though, their route became far more familiar to the girl. The Queen had had showed it her only a short while ago.

Caster gasped. "It that?"

"Yes, the Greater Grail, my dear," Salem confirmed. "A useful prize, but not why we are here."

Weiss' hand involuntarily shifted to Myrtenaster. The group made their way to the rim of the mud pit, the substance within churning with just as much malice as before. Weiss took care to place herself between Salem and her family. Sure, that meant her back was to everyone else, and that she was precariously close to the ditch, but given the circumstances, it was the best she could have hoped for.

Not that she could do anything if the Queen decided to slaughter them all, but it made her feel better.

"Caster dear, please provide young Whitley with some reinforcement," Salem requested. "I think Hazel is getting tired from keeping him afoot."

Caster glanced at Hazel, who looked like he didn't even notice Whitley, but she nodded and waved her hand. Green lines flashed across the boy's body, and Hazel removed his support. Whitley's eyes went wide, and he stumbled for a moment, but in the end found himself able to stand.

Weiss' glare narrowed. "My lady, I appreciate your generosity, but I must inquire why you have brought us all here."

Salem smiled softly. "Why, my dear, it is as I said before. I have a test for you. For all three of you really," she declared gesturing to the present Schnees.

She turned to the pit, her gaze focused on the mud. "Below us, as you know my dear, is my essence. The womb of the Grimm. Within it churns all the evils of the world."

"Not all of them, obviously," Jacques spat, his icy glare frozen to Salem's back.

The Queen ignored him. "I wish to perform an experiment of sorts. I have made some modifications to this pit in particular. Now, I wish to see if its effects are as I hope. So, I would like one of you to enter it."

Weiss' hand tightened around Myrtenaster's hilt. "Enter? You want us to jump into that?"

"One of you, my dear. Only one of you," Salem insisted. "And in return for your assistance in this matter, you have my word that the two who remain shall not spend another night in this castle."

Weiss narrowed her eyes at the Grimm woman. She knew what she was trying to do, why she brought her family to this farce. Salem wanted her to toss one of them into the mud to save herself. She wanted her to give in to the years of pain they'd inflicted upon her, to betray them for all they'd done.

She would be disappointed.

"No," Weiss declared firmly. "You cannot make me become a monster."

She'd sworn that she'd keep them safe. And a Schnee did not sink to dishonor by breaking their word.

Salem sighed, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "My dear. I've already told you that I will never force you to aid me. Just as I warned you what the people you wish to protect will do in turn."

"What are you— AH!"

Something slammed into Weiss's back and pitched her over the edge. She screamed as she tumbled through the air.

She drew Myrtenaster from her side and tried to conjure a glyph to stop her fall, but out of the mud shot half a dozen black tentacles. The dark appendages smashed through her meager defenses and entrapped her. She struggled as best she could, managing to steal a glance above.

She saw Salem grin.

And Whitley glare, his fists glowing green.

Her eyes widened in shock, and then she was dragged into the depths.

* * *

_**RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE** _

_Where am I?_

**You are here.**

**You are with us.**

_Why?_

_I did everything I could._

_I wanted to save them._

_Why did they betray me?_

**Because that is what they do.**

**That is what they all do.**

**They strike _from shadows_ , so they may claim the light.**

_No._

_Not all. There are others._

_Yellow Beauty. Black the Beast._

_Red the Rose._

_They love me._

_I love them._

**They love no one.**

**They _burn_ , an endless, undying fire.**

**They abandoned, so they can blaze ever brighter.**

_No._

_They love me._

_I love them._

**Then why are you alone?**

**_Burdened by a royal test_.**

…

…

…

_I…_

_I…_

**You bleed.**

**You bleed _red like roses_.**

**You bleed alone, so they don't have to.**

_I…_

_I…_

_I am not…_

**Do you want to bleed?**

…

_No._

**Then join.**

**We will not bleed.**

**We will not suffer.**

…

_Will they?_

**They can.**

**We can make them.**

**Would that make us happy?**

…

_Yes._

_That would make us very happy._

* * *

_**RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE** _

Emerald stared at the mud pit in horror. Her hand still shook from when the Ice Queen's brother had shoved her in.

The boy himself staggered back from the edge of the hole, his body shivering. He turned back to his father, still restrained by Seer Grimm and Huntsman cuffs. His eyes watered and pleaded for understanding.

The old man gave him a stern nod. The boy smiled.

Emerald had done a lot of horrible things, probably a few worse than what she'd just witnessed. But still, to his own sister…

"Hey, Caster?" she whispered to her Servant. "I know you weren't in control when your brother died but… did you feel…"

"Remorse?" Medea supplied. "I did. Even through Aphrodite's curse, I mourned my brother."

Emerald grimaced. "Do you think he'll mourn her?"

"I don't know." Medea glanced at the huge glowing orb stuck in the wall. "Something isn't right. That mud, it is pure evil. Not mortal could possibly be submerged in it and hope to survive. Why would she go to all the trouble of training the girl only to dispose of her like this? If she wanted her dead, she didn't have to arrange something this complex. And what is the Greater Grail doing here?"

Emerald had no idea. Caster had given her a run down of the details of the Holy Grail War over the last few months, but she couldn't fathom what Salem was doing with the chalice's core.

Jacques Schnee cleared his throat. "Well? You have what you want. Now release me and my son!"

Salem held up a finger. Her eyes closed. A manic grin of ecstasy blossomed on her face.

" _Now we see_ ," she whispered, a demonic vibration filling her voice. " _They wish for evil. So, they shall have evil_."

"What are you blathering about?" Jacques shouted. "You said you needed someone in the mud. And now Weiss is—"

An unholy shriek split the air. Emerald rammed her hands over her ears to lessen the pain. The Schnee boy was driven to his knees. Even Hazel twitched in irritation.

A line of black glyphs flared to life up the side of the pit, and a moment later, something blasted out of the mud and rode them back to the chamber floor.

Said figure kneeled before Salem, a familiar rapier now black in their hands.

"Impossible," Caster muttered in horror.

Weiss Schnee opened her eyes, her once blue pupils shining a sickly yellow, black veins branching off of them into her forehead.

A vicious smirk came to her lips.

"W- Weiss?" Whitley stammered. "How?"

The Ice Queen stood up and faced him. "Through acceptance. Acceptance of fact."

Any childish petulance was gone from her voice. Her words were now cold, yet infinite. Like a glacier proclaiming which ship would sink beneath the waves.

Whitley's eyes understandably widened. "Weiss, I did what I had to do. There was no way—"

"Shush, brother dear. I cannot abide useless thoughts, and I doubt you have anything but in your head," Weiss proclaimed. "However, I do remember an interesting query you once posed me. 'What can a single huntsman do, that an army could not?' I'll admit, I didn't truly have an answer to you then. But now?"

Her smile put her pearly white teeth on full display, like the grin of a shark. "Well, I think I'll show you."

She turned to Salem. "With your blessing, your grace."

The Mother of Grimm proudly nodded her ascent.

Emerald shivered in dread.

"You might want to take a step back," Hazel advised, strolling back to the chamber's walls.

Emerald and Caster quickly followed.

Weiss slammed the tip of Myrtenaster's dark blade into the castle floor, an intricate black glyph appearing on the ground.

It was one Emerald had seen only once before.

" **Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill!"** Weiss proclaimed, the timbre of an unseen legion bleeding into her voice.  **"Repeat five times, but when each is filled, destroy it!"**

" **For the elements silver and iron, the foundation of stone and the archduke of pacts, and for my great master Angra Mainyu."**

' _Who?' Emerald wondered._

" _Master", Caster warned mentally. "We are in grave danger."_

" **Raise a wall against the wind and close the gate of four directions. Come forth from the crown and follow the forked road leading to the kingdom."**

" **Heed my words! My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny!"**

" **If you heed the grail's call, and obey my lady's will and reason, then answer my summoning!"**

" **I hereby swear, that I shall be all the truth in the world. And I shall defeat, all lies in the world!"**

" **And let thine eyes be altered, in the sky of turmoil and chaos. Thou, you art free in a field of evil. And I the summoner, who guides thy hand!"**

" **Seventh Hell, clad in the great words of power, come forth from the circle of binding, Bane of the Scales!"**

Trapped in the castle wall, the Greater Grail's glow flickered for a moment.

The summoning sigil glowed a violent purple, then spouted a small pool of mud. Slowly, it piled upon itself, shifting color and assembling into a humanoid form.

When it finished, a tall man took shape. A black hood covered his head and shoulders, while spiked armor coated the lower half of his body. His bare chest was splattered with ancient crimson runes. A dark blue ponytail rested beside his face. In his right hand, a massive blood red spear bayed for battle, a hundred lethal spikes sticking out of every bare space on the shaft.

His scarlet eyes opened, and he flashed a fanged smile. "So, I take it you're my master?"

Emerald shook with terror. She knew powerful beings had a certain aura about them, not the regular kind but an immense pressure. Caster's was subtle, slithering like a snake. Salem's was an omen of impending dread.

But this man? He felt like blood.

Blood and battle and screams.

Weiss smirked smugly. "I am your summoner, Lancer Alter." She gestured to Salem. "My Queen provides you with  _prana_ , and so she is your master."

Lancer Alter grinned. "So I see. Pity. I would have loved to fight beside such a lovely young lady."

"Don't be so hasty, my dears" Salem interceded. She placed a proud hand on Weiss' shoulder. "I cannot leave my domain, and you will still have to go forth and slay the other Servants, dear Cu Chulainn. It seems fitting that you should have a handler of sorts."

A single black mark appeared on Weiss' right hand. The girl's eyes widened and she bowed her head to the Queen. "You honor me, your grace."

"Do me proud, my dear."

"Wha- What was that?" Whitley Schnee stuttered, pointing brokenly at Lancer Alter. The poor boy had fallen to the ground in shock. "How did you get here?"

"Who's the pipsqueak?" the spearman remarked.

Weiss raised Myrtenaster. "No one of consequence."

She stalked towards her brother.

Whitley desperately tried to get away from her but was so debilitated with fear that he couldn't even get off the ground.

"Weiss! Weiss! I'm sorry!" he protested. "What else was I supposed to do? You have no idea what it's been like here. She's given you a plush room, food, and freedom. I was trapped! I couldn't go on any longer—"

"What on Remnant are you babbling about, Whitley?" she interceded, playing with the saber in her hands. "What do you think I'm going to do? Kill you?"

The look on Whitley's face answered that question quite clearly.

Weiss sighed. "I'm not going to kill you, brother. You are beneath me. I have grown beyond our family name, ascended to far greater heights. You, meanwhile, have sentenced yourself forever to father's shadow, to being his servant. You didn't have the will to push me into the pit without his say so, did you?"

Whitley looked down in shame, but nodded his confirmation.

"I thought so" Weiss sneered. "You're pathetic. A mere pawn. And a queen has no reason to dirty herself with the blood of a pawn."

Whitley looked up, a small spark of hope shining in his gaze.

"No" Weiss continued. "A servant should die to a Servant. Lancer!"

The spear ran the boy through faster than Emerald could see. Black spikes burst out from the wound and pierced every vein in his body.

Whitley Schnee died before he could even scream.

The hope didn't even have time to leave his eyes.

"NO!" wailed Jacques.

Hazel closed his eyes and lowered his head in respect. Caster averted her gaze. Salem looked on unfazed.

Weiss laughed.

Emerald didn't know what to think. She'd killed children before, most of the huntsmen trainees she'd fought had been under eighteen, but they could always defend themselves. This was just… sick.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!" Jacques screamed, tears streaming down his face. "You murdered him! You murdered my boy! You'll die! You'll die screaming!"

"Gag him and prep him for transport" Salem commanded. "I have given my word, and he shall not spend another night in this castle."

The Seer Grimm dragged him off, the man howling vengeance all the way.

Lancer Alter tugged his spear out of Whitley's corpse. He frowned. "I hope I was summoned for more than just killing children. Gae Bolg is hungry for worthy blood and so am I."

"Don't worry, my friend. You'll get your fill of battle" Weiss assured him. "Our Queen's plans are opposed by many. And those fools shall soon be receiving a quite rude awakening."

Lancer Alter smirked. "I'll take your word for it, gorgeous."

"Excellent" Salem remarked. "Now we'll just need to summon the other two. Are you ready, my dear?"

"Always, my lady," Weiss bowed. She struck the ground and another glyph appeared.

As she chanted, Salem turned to the others. "Hazel, once you have your Servant, head to the White Fang's headquarters in Anima. Adam Taurus proved useful to Cinder during her campaign in Beacon, but we've had no contact since. Ascertain their loyalty and if it wavers, give them a demonstration."

The brute nodded. "As you wish."

Salem smiled and turned to Emerald. "Emerald, you and Weiss will go to Haven and join Watts and Headmaster Lionheart in tracking down the Spring Maiden. I will be sending Watts' Servant on an alternate route in order to remain inconspicuousness."

"Of course, my lady" Emerald bowed.

Salem patted her on the back and then went over to Weiss, who had just called forth a blond swordswoman in with a black battle dress and mask.

"My lady?" Emerald piped up. "Why didn't you just throw Weiss into the pit yourself?"

Salem shook her head as if the answer was obvious. "How could I make her see things my way if I did to her exactly what I said others would. Showing her the faults of humanity through her family made her more, agreeable."

Emerald nodded her understanding and Salem went to greet the newest member of their cabal.

" _We are in grave danger, master" Caster informed Emerald mentally._

' _You think?' Emerald snarked, not seeing how anyone around this craziness could not be in danger._

" _You don't understand, master. That mud, it wasn't just some magic. It was All the Worlds Evils."_

" _What the hell does that mean?"_

" _It means we might very well be dealing with a being who wants to wipe out humanity" Caster revealed._

_Emerald raised an eyebrow. 'Was the army of Grimm not a giveaway?'_

" _Please, master" Medea implored. "Look at what she has done here. She's twisted that girl into murdering her own brother! Do you really think someone like that is just going to hand you the grail when this is all over? Do you think you are an exception to your species' extinction?"_

Emerald closed her fist and looked to the side in thought. Whatever superficial kindness Salem had shown, whatever reason Cinder had trusted her, she knew it was only a matter of time until she outlived her usefulness and the Queen had her dunked in the mud pit.

Still, maybe that time would be enough to do what she needed to do.

' _We'll stick it out for now' Emerald declared. 'She once told me that a Servant she's directly powering, these Alters, can't claim the grail. Until then, she still needs us. And I still need that wish to bring Cinder back.'_

" _Master, I strongly advise against this course of action."_

' _Noted. Which is why I want you to start coming up with escape plans for if everything goes to shit. Think you can do that?'_

She could feel Caster smirk behind.

" _Do you even have to ask?"_

Emerald nodded. She watched as Weiss called forth another dark Servant, this time a towering man with completely black skin and a skirt of purple and gold.

Her instincts as a thief were screaming at her to get out while she could. But she couldn't waste this chance. Cinder had given her everything. She owed it to her to save her from Kirei.

She just wondered if she would be able to save herself.


	27. The First Battle

“Another day! Another adventure!” Nora proclaimed. “What’s on the agenda today?”

Blake sighed. “Walking, Nora. It was walking yesterday. It’s walking today. More than likely, it’ll be walking tomorrow.”

Nora slapped Blake on the back, probably meant as a sign of comradery, but the cat faunus struggled to register that over keeping her lungs in her chest.

“Don’t be such a downer, Blakey,” the hyperactive huntress advised. “We might be coming up on a village soon.”

“No, Blake’s right,” Sun declared, the map open in his hands. “According to this, we’re still a week out from the nearest village.”

“Oh,” Nora deflated. Her frown soon transformed into a determined grin though. “We’ll just have to book it, then. AH!”

She charged off down the path screaming bloody murder.

Blake turned to Ren. “How did you live with her all these years?”

Ren smiled softly. “Practice. Lots of practice. And pancakes.”

Sun smirked. “She does seem to like those.”

“That she does,” Ren chuckled. His eyes narrowed a moment later. “We should probably catch up to her. I’ve been sensing someone close behind us for the last few miles.”

“Ilia?” Blake inquired.

“Most likely. Her emotional makeup is very similar to what I felt at Shion,” Ren confided. “But she’s not alone. There are two others with her. I think.”

“You think?”

“One of the presences is…I don’t know, hazy? It’s like I can feel like something should be there, but it isn’t solid enough for me to be sure. I’ve never felt anything like it,” Ren admitted.

“Maybe it’s Lancer,” Sun suggested. “He might be in that spirit form thing we saw.”

Blake scratched her chin in thought. “Possibly. What about the third presence?”

“That one is easy,” Ren stated. “Whoever they are, they’re frustrated, as angry as some Grimm. But also, more determined than almost anyone I’ve ever felt before.”

“That would be Adam,” Blake surmised. “I should have known he wouldn’t have backed down after my talk with Ilia.”

“What’s our play then?” Sun inquired. “We can’t fight, not as long as Lancer is with him.”

Blake nodded. She doubted they could fight Adam even without Lancer. “For now, all we can do is keep moving. Get to Mistral as fast as we can and meet up with the others. If his patience holds until then, we can figure out if an alliance is possible under Saber and Archer’s protection.”

“Will it hold? His patience?” Ren asked.

Blake didn’t know. If Adam was still the monster she’d run away from, he would have already slaughtered them by now. The twisted hope he’d gained from the Holy Grail War had turned him into something else. She just couldn’t tell if that something else was closer to the man she’d loved or the beast she’d feared.

“Guys!” Nora called from up ahead.

The others swiftly ran up to her. The valkyrie pointed at the broken remnants of a wall up ahead. The group had seen similar, whole, structures surrounding the towns they’d visited on their journey.

“Oh no,” Blake muttered. The huntsmen charged into the ruin.

Unlike Shion, there were no bodies strewn around the village. Some of the buildings showed clear signs of combat, but others just seemed to be incomplete. Scattered piles of finely cut wood beams suggested the crews building them had just given up halfway through the process. Or more likely were butchered.

Blake checked in alleys and under planks. She found nothing but weeds.

“Anything?” she called out.

“Nothing over here,” Sun replied from atop an unfinished scaffolding.

“It’s almost as if the whole town was abandoned,” Ren mused.

Blake clenched her fist and hissed.

Too late again.

Useless again.

“I found something!” Nora yelled.

Everyone congregated around a vine-covered signpost in the middle of the town square. A couple of dried up fountains decorated the area.

Nora pushed the greenery aside. “Oniyuri,” she read. “Never heard of it. Have you guys?”

Blake shook her head. She was only stationed with the Mistral White Fang for a short time and settlements disappeared on the frontier often. She knew few of the villages of Anima.

“Nope,” Sun replied for himself.

“I have.”

Everyone turned to Ren expectantly.

The green-clad ninja sighed. “You might think of it as Anima’s Mountain Glenn, had it never been completed. Years ago, the richest members of Mistral were unhappy with the kingdom’s council. They pulled their resources together to build their own city, with their own laws. They hoped that one day, it could even become its own kingdom. Many thought it would be the future.”

He meandered off to one of the fountains, its stone rim coated in dust. “I know my parents did.”

Sun gulped. “What happened?”

Ren wiped the dust from the fountain, revealing a savage claw mark. “What always happens.”

“The Grimm,” Blake growled.

Ren’s fists tightened in fury, something extremely odd for the calm boy.

“Not just any one,” Ren snarled.

That made Blake raise an eyebrow. “One?”

What kind of Grimm, short of a Goliath, could wipe out an entire town single-handedly?

Nora gazed on Ren softly. Her arms twitched like she wanted to reach out to him, but in the end, she held back.

A flock of crows burst into the sky and rapidly flew back the way the group had come.

Sun walked up to Ren and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Buddy? Are you alright?”

Ren sighed, his hands returning to normal. “I’m fine. Let’s just get through here as fast as we—ah!”

He stumbled and collapsed to his knees, Sun acting quickly to keep him from falling farther. Blake and Nora rushed over to him.

“Ren, what’s wrong?” Nora asked desperately.

“Anger,” he responded hurriedly. He clutched at his head in pain. “So much anger…”

Blake shared a worried glance with Sun. Ren sensed Grimm all the time without issue. What could possibly have enough negative emotion to overwhelm him so badly?

**“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”**

A smoking black figure smashed into the opposite side of the courtyard, kicking up a massive dust cloud. The shockwave from the impact forced Blake to stumble back.

She drew Gambol Shroud and aimed its pistol form at the center of the cloud. She heard the others doing the same with their own weapons.

The ash cleared, revealing a tall man in pitch black armor, mist curling off his figure. He stood in the center of a huge crater he’d made when he landed. His limbs seemed to twitch at every moment, his body never staying still. He reminded Blake of a rabid dog, preparing to pounce.

A muffled shriek escaped his armor, like a wolf’s howl restrained by a thick muzzle. The knight’s mad rage was palpable in the air, like a lethal miasma.

Whatever doubts Blake had had after her encounter with Lancer were put to rest. The creature before her was too powerful to be anything but a Servant. She didn’t need to see his stats to know that.

Sun shivered in fear by her side. “That’s Berserker?”

Nora gulped. “I don’t think we can break his legs.”

Ren took a deep breath, probably shutting down his semblance to get back to his feet. “Anyone have a plan?”

They needed one, desperately. All of them but Sun had witnessed Arturia’s power when she was holding back, and she had still crushed all her opposition without difficulty. It seemed unlikely that this black knight would give them even that much mercy.

A raven landed on the roof of a nearby house.

The Servant remained in his pit, his body barely containing its violent spasms.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Why hasn’t it attacked us? This thing is a Berserker, right? They’re supposed to be completely insane. It should be slaughtering us right now.”

“You’re right,” Sun realized. “It wouldn’t have given us time to realize it was even here if it was acting on its own.”

“Which means its master is nearby,” Blake concluded. “We need to contact Ruby and Jaune, let them know—”

“Well, hello there, strangers!” a cocky voice called out.

Blake whipped around to a nearby roof. On it was a woman with short brown hair and ash like bird tattoos on her upper arms. Strapped at her waist was a pair of guns fused to circular blades. She leered down at the huntsmen with a patronizing smirk. “What are you doing around these parts?”

Blake gave Ren a discreet nod, then walked forward towards the new figure. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted her friend pulling out his scroll.

“We’re just travelers,” she called out to the newcomer. “We’re on our way to Haven. We’re not looking for a fight.”

The woman chuckled. “No one’s ever looking for a fight. Everyone seems to find one though. But us, we’re looking for someone. You wouldn’t happen to be Blake Belladonna, would you, kitty cat?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“Me? My name’s Vernal,” the woman declared. “My friends and I wanted to extend you all a little Anima hospitality.”

“Friends?”

Filing into the alleys surrounding the square were dozens of men and women in ragged clothes and patchwork armor. They wielded ancient guns and rusting knives. There didn’t seem to be a single one without a battle scar of some kind.

“Bandits,” Sun snarled.

They took up positions in the exits to the courtyard, though none of them were daring enough to enter. With Berserker present, Blake didn’t blame them.

“We’re boxed in,” Nora noted, hefting Magnhild over her shoulder.

Blake growled. She had no doubt that they could break through the blockade if they tried, but the moment they turned their backs, Berserker would slaughter them from behind. Not that they could beat him from the front either.

She glared at Vernal. “What do you want?

The bandit woman snorted. Her faux friendly demeanor evaporated, replaced with an annoyed, haughty stare. “You’re practically the princess of Menagerie, kitten. Your folks would probably give us every lien that shithole island has got to get you home safe. Is it really that hard to figure out what we want?”

“No,” Blake responded, inserting a clip of stone dust into her weapon.

“Good. Berserker.”

**“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”**

The black knight charged.

 

* * *

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****

_The sun shined beautifully upon the grand stone city. Thousands of people gathered in the streets and joyously tossed flower petals into the air._

_They all cheered for a company of handsome men on horseback, all but one encased in gleaming armor._

_At the front of the column was a younger man than the others, his features so soft and his blonde hair so long that one could have taken him for a woman. But the royal crown of Camelot sat atop his head, and there could be no mistaking his identity. The loudest cheers from the crowd were saved for him._

_“Our king, Arthur Pendragon!”_

_“The promised king!”_

_“Three cheers for the king!”_

_As the citizens showered their sovereign in praise, A young girl with a face eerily similar to the king’s watched on from a dark alley._

_“That’s Arthur,” she whispered in awe. “The King of Knights.”_

_“Yes, young one.” A woman wrapped in shadow put her hands on the child’s shoulders. “The hero you should aim to become. And the enemy that you must defeat.”_

_The girl looked back to the parade. She beheld the king’s full wonderous visage. His royal blue cloak fell elegantly over his powerful shoulders. His posture was without flaw, supporting the idea of an invulnerable guardian. His face displayed a stern expression, balanced magnificently to not be too indulgent or irritated._

_The king was exactly as he was said to be. A ruler beyond the capacity of a human in governance. An unequaled monarch._

_The perfect king. As unlike a human as possible._

_Just like the girl._

_And just like the girl, the king did not smile._

_She knew then that she needed to serve King Arthur._

 

* * *

_“Mordred” the shadowed woman appeared out of a dark mist. “Just how long do you intend to play knight?”_

_The girl, now grown and wearing gray and red armor, turned to the witch in alarm. “Mother?”_

_“Why have you not taken the throne from Arthur?” the woman demanded. “Wait do you persist in being satisfied as a mere sword of the Round Table.”_

_The girl merely shrugged. “Why would I not be? The king is like me, inhuman. He is the perfect king. Why would I seek to depose him from the throne for no reason?”_

_“No reason?” the witch snarled. “It was what you were born to do. You, a homunculus born of his blood and mine, created to surpass him in every way.”_

_“What are you saying?” the inquired, her eyebrow rising in confusion._

_“You are heir to the throne!” the shadowed woman roared. “So, stop living in his shadow! You are his child! His living essence!”_

_The girl, the knight, stared off at a faraway parapet, somehow sensing her beloved sovereign stood upon it. Her mouth widened in awe, before splitting into an enormous grin._

_“King Arthur is my father!”_

* * *

 

_The knight shook with fury. Across from her stood the king, his face once again merely stern, nothing more._

_“You won’t acknowledge me as your son” the knight spat. “Is that your answer, King of Knights?”_

_The king did not speak a word. He turned away from the massive round table between them and strode into the dark corridors of his castle._

_The knight glared at his back, a tempest of unholy wrath building within her. “I was fine being in your shadow. But you never even once turned around to look me in the eye. Why won’t you acknowledge me?”_

_The king did not answer._

_“I’m going to destroy everything you’ve ever worked towards! Do you hear me? ARTHUR!”_

* * *

_The sunset blazed orange across an endless battlefield. As far as the eyes could see, the corpses of fallen warriors and noble soldiers littered the plains._

_Still, the knight, now completely encased her spiked armor, slaughtered more, howling in rage with each strike. Before her, countless foes who were once friends fell to the ground, never to rise again._

_“Where’s King Arthur?” the knight demanded. “Show yourself to me, King of Knights!”_

_She turned and saw her destiny._

_Atop a hill covered in bodies, with the sun at her back and a brilliant holy sword in her hands, stood the king, as radiant and perfect as when the knight first saw her._

_The knight passed her sword over the carnage. “Do you see this, King Arthur? This is the price for not relinquishing the throne to me!”_

_The king said nothing._

_“Do you truly hate me so?” the knight taunted. “Is it because I am the child of a witch, forged in your image?”_

_Again, the king said nothing._

_“Answer me!” the knight roared, charging at her beloved father._

_A flash of steel, faster than the eye could see. The holy sword flew from the king’s hands, but the knight was repelled down the hill. She made to charge again but was stopped by a commanding voice._

_“Never once did I find you detestable” the king confessed. “The reason I did not relinquish the throne to you…”_

_The knight’s eyes widened in shock. A holy lance pierced her armor._

_“…Was because you did not have the capacity to be king.”_

_The knight’s helmet shattered, and blood erupted from the mouth of a young girl._

* * *

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****

Jaune shot up panting from his slumber, his eyes wide in terror. He quickly patted down his chest just to confirm he hadn’t been speared in his sleep.

He sighed and pressed his face into his palms. What was that? It didn’t feel like a dream, more like a memory. His mom was there, but she was different than how he remembered her. Sterner, colder, strangely more kingly and charismatic.

And she wasn’t the only one he recognized.

He stood up and looked around the campsite in the cabin ruins. Archer was standing watch over a sleeping Ruby and Qrow. The Servant briefly glanced at Jaune and then returned his gaze to his master, his eyes focused like a hawk.

Jaune turned and went into the forest. He didn’t have time to talk with the Servant of the Bow. He needed to find Mordred.

In time, he followed his instincts and discovered his sister sitting in an especially thick gaggle of trees. She was grunting as he approached.

“Come on, you stupid sword” she growled, trying to shove Clarent into the obviously too thin Avalon. “Just go in already!”

A waning smile ghosted over Jaune’s lips. In times like this, it was easy to forget that she was an ancient hero of legend. One that seemed unable to go a day without punching him in the face, but still, a hero.

Then he remembered the dreams and his smile disappeared.

He wanted her to be a hero. He needed her to be a hero.

But was she?

“Hey, Saber!” he called.

Mordred stopped struggling and smirked at him. Clarent disappeared into crimson sparks and she posed proudly with Avalon strapped to her side. “Ah, pretender. Come to gaze upon the glory of the one true king?”

“Um, no, sorry,” Jaune said awkwardly. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something. About mom’s past, if that’s alright.”

Mordred scowled for a moment but shrugged in the end. “Ask away. If you’re going to learn from the past, father’s greatness is as good a teacher as any.” She gave him a haughty grin. “What do you want to hear about? The Battle of the Questing Beast, The Tournament of Albion, Galahad’s quest for the Holy Grail, pretty sure that one’s different than the one we’re after.”

“Camlann.”

Her grin disappeared. “What about it?”

Jaune scratched the back of his head. If he asked this, there would be no going back. If she had done what he thought she did, he wasn’t sure how he would react.

But if he didn’t find out, it would gnaw him from the inside until he said something he couldn’t take back.

“You mentioned that King Lot wasn’t at the battle, right?” he inquired hesitantly. “When mom told me about it, she made it sound like the toughest fight King Arthur ever fought. So, if it wasn’t Lot there, who did she fight?”

Mordred glared at me. If anyone had called her foolish before, they would not recognize her now. She understood exactly what he was asking. And she knew he was already well aware of the answer.

“Take a wild guess,” she spat.

Jaune wondered if he should have felt betrayed. If not for his own sake, then his mother’s. But with what he’d seen in his dreams, and what he’d seen of Mordred himself, it just all seemed to fit. The missing piece of the world’s ugliest puzzle.

“Why?” he demanded, his voice as cold as ice.

Mordred huffed and made to charge past him. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

He grabbed her arm before she could go far. She whirled upon him, her face alight with anger.

All that fire died when she saw the frozen wrath in his eyes.

“Why?” he growled. “You loved her. I saw it. I felt it. She was everything to you, your world, your king, and you stabbed her in the back.”

Mordred turned away. She sneered, “He did worse to me first.”

“Really? You must really not like people walking away from you.”

“Oh, shut up, pretender!” she roared in his face. Her arm rammed into his hold and pinned him against a tree. “You don’t know anything about me. Everything I ever wanted, he gave you on a silver platter. I had to work for everything I had, work harder than the rest, work myself to the bone, to prove _my_ mother wasn’t turning me into her pawn. I was the most loyal of all the Round Table. I was everything the king could have wanted. But when I came to him and told him I was his son…”

Tears welled in the young knight’s eyes, a frightening contrast with her vicious scowl.

“He denied me. He did not care or smile. He refused to acknowledge me as his child and heir. After all, what perfect king would have a child with any but his queen, even if she was a harlot. If he was so devoted to the crown, then I would teach him what all his governing was really worth! Nothing!”

Jaune met her glare head-on, his own unflinching. “You taught her a lesson, huh?” he mused. “How many people had to die so you could teach her a lesson?”

“You dare—”

“The sword is strongest as a shield, you told me,” he reminded her. “A knight’s duty is to protect others. Who were you protecting with your little rebellion?”

Mordred growled but released him from the tree. That alone was telling enough as her answer.

Jaune wanted to punch her in the face. He wanted to tear her limb from limb. He didn’t care if she had her reasons, she had slaughtered hundreds, people who were once her friends, all to get back at his mother.

But hadn’t he gotten her killed?

Hadn’t he dishonored the memory of hundreds just so he could get into Beacon? So that he could stop being a butt monkey and finally become a hero worthy of his family name?

What right did he have to judge her while he carried his own sin?

He sighed. “Look, Mordred… I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

He ignored her. “I’m sorry for what happened between you and mom. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m judging you.”

“Your opinion means nothing to me.”

“But you’re not the only one mom was ever disappointed in,” he stated. “You’re not the only Arc to ever royally screw up.”

“I am the son of Arthur Pendragon!” she screamed. “I’m. Not. An Arc.”

“Well, consider yourself adopted,” Jaune declared. “Because we are family, no matter how many times you say I’m a pretender. The same blood that runs through your veins, runs through mine. And both of us are going to have to be a whole lot better than we were before if we’re going to win this war.”

“I am superior to the King of Knights himself,” Mordred refuted. “There is no way for me to be _better_.”

Jaune smacked his hand into his face. “I mean we have to trust each other! Respect each other! No more punching me in the face whenever I say something you don’t like, no more snipping at you because I want to feel better. Because I’m pretty sure you lost at Camlann, and I was powerless at Beacon. We have to do _something_ differently. Or else we’re just going to fail again.”

Mordred scowled. The Knight of Treachery turned away from him and stared at the forest canopy. She gave no outward appearance for or against his words. Though the fact she hadn’t punched him in the face was probably a good sign.

“I’m not your enemy, Mordred,” Jaune begged. “I’m your brother.”

Her fist closed at that. She glanced at Avalon on her waist.

She sighed. “What you say… there is some—”

A mechanical beeping sounded through the trees. Jaune picked through his pockets and pulled out his scroll. Ren’s name flashed across the screen.

Mordred glared daggers at him.

Jaune chuckled awkwardly and shrugged with a dorky smile on his face.

Mordred was not amused. “Answer it,” she snarled.

He did just that and put the device to his ear. “Ren, buddy, this kind of a bad—”

 _“No one’s ever looking for a fight. Everyone seems to find one though,”_ an unfamiliar voice declared through the line.

Jaune pulled his scroll away from his head in shock at the unexpected words. He realized to his surprise that Ren had sent a video call.

And the picture on the screen was a terrifying black knight.

“Ruby!”

 

* * *

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****

Ruby sighed as she watched Jaune walk off into the forest. It seemed he hadn’t been able to sleep either.

Every time she closed her eyes, she’d be thrust into the fire. The flames would consume everything around her. People soon to be corpses would lay in the rubble waiting to die. She’d gaze up at the smoke and beg for someone to save her, anyone.

And that call would be answered. She would see the face of her savior as he cried.

His face.

Kiritsugu Emiya.

Her grandfather.

Honestly, it was lucky she’d had the dream again after Uncle Qrow had shown her the picture. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t have realized the connection. The man who saved her in her dreams was the same one who’d pulled her mother from a fire and raised her.

But why was she dreaming about him?

And why did Archer know his name?

Ruby groaned. Why did there have to be so many mysteries when she didn’t have any clues? Uncle Qrow had told her everything he knew, and she was still no closer to answering any of her questions. And the only one who might be able to help her freaked out the last time the topic had been brought up.

Not to mention she was still shaken up from their last conversation.

But, if she wanted the truth…

“Archer?” Ruby asked quietly, pushing herself into a sitting position. “Are you awake?”

“Servants do not require sleep, master, and if they did, you may be sure I would not do it standing up,” he replied from above her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, you see, it’s a bit tricky,” Ruby meandered. “There’s something I want to talk to you about, but the last time I tried, you got a little… upset.”

Archer nodded. “My apologies, master. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

Ruby perked up. “Really? So, you’ll tell me about my granddad?”

Archer said nothing. He closed his eyes in thought.

Ruby frowned. “Or not.”

“Not everything,” Archer declared, opening his eyes. “Some of my knowledge of Kiritsugu Emiya relates to my true identity and, as I’ve already informed you, is of no use to us in this time. Still, I will do my best to relate what I have learned about him over the years.”

“Great!”

“However, I request that you allow me to ask you a question in return, master,” Archer told her.

Ruby shrugged. “Sure. That’s fine.”

“Very well.” Archer gazed up at the shattered moon for a moment to compose himself. “Back in my time, mages, while still a secret sect, were far more numerous than they are here on Remnant. Families spent centuries passing on magic circuits and research, all of them building on one another in hopes of one day reaching Akasha, the root of all souls. This, however, led most mages to become callous towards their fellow man, seeing them only as base resources to be culled when necessary. In fact, it was common practice for any outsiders who witnessed a mage’s activities, including the Holy Grail War, to be killed immediately.”

“What?” Ruby exclaimed. “That’s terrible! By that logic I would have to kill Blake and Ren and Nora—”

“Your disgust is understandable, master,” Archer cut in. “But while there was a myriad of practical reasons for the taboo, the point I wish to make is to illustrate the background Kiritsugu Emiya came from. In his life, he was an infamous assassin, often eliminating mages that strayed too far from morality for even their compatriots to tolerate. Knowing how a mage thought, he would deal with them in ways that were as unlike a mage as possible, things those obsessed with magic would not think to protect themselves from. Eventually, his underhand tactics and exceptional success earned him the title of ‘The Mage Killer’.”

“He killed people… to stop them from killing other people?” Ruby inquired worriedly.

Archer nodded. “Not always just his targets. He killed as many people as necessary to eliminate threats to humanity. He understood the equivalent exchange I told you of the other night.”

Ruby frowned, her eyes sank into dull resignation. “Saving one life means choosing not to save another.”

“Without fail.” Archer flashed a relieved smirk before his face became serious again. “Kiritsugu Emiya was a man dedicated to saving the many, even if the few needed to die. However…”

He hesitated. Ruby nocked an eyebrow at his incomplete sentence. “However?”

Archer sighed. “Eventually, Kiritsugu Emiya sought to achieve his ultimate dream. True peace for all time. To that end, he allied with the Einzbern family and entered the Fourth Holy Grail War as the Master of Saber.”

“Arturia?”

“The very same,” he confirmed. “Admittedly, my knowledge of that era is incomplete, but I am aware that the final battle of that war was between them and Kirei Kotomine, who as you know allied with Gilgamesh.”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed, a dim silver glow flaring for a brief moment. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Archer confessed. “In most timelines, Kiritsugu discovered the Grail's corruption and ordered Saber to destroy it in turn. Obviously, that did not happen in this world’s sequence of events. We may never know what led to the corruption’s release.”

“But the next time anyone saw him was when he saved my mom,” Ruby finished. “And who knows who he had to kill to do that.”

Archer’s stare hardened. “And that leads us to my question, master. It seems like a great deal of events we have encountered have an unusual connection to your mother, yet I know nothing about her.”

Ruby smiled wistfully. “She was amazing. I was really little, so I don’t remember much, but whenever she was around… I don’t know. I just felt safe. Yang told me she was super mom, baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters. She always tried to make sure everyone could get a happy ending. In the end, she was completely devoted to being a huntress. She was a hero.”

“A hero of justice?” Archer inquired.

Ruby shrugged. “I guess. She—”

“Ruby!”

Ruby and Archer whirled towards the forest. Uncle Qrow arose from his slumber just as Jaune and Mordred rushed into the camp.

“What is it, kid? I’m trying to sleep,” Qrow snarked.

Jaune didn’t respond, simply shoving his scroll into their faces. On it was a towering black knight covered in curling smoke. “Ren just sent this.”

Qrow cursed. “Lancelot. What’s Raven thinking, letting that thing off the leash?”

Mordred went still at the name of the Servant.

“Who is that, Uncle Qrow?” Ruby inquired fearfully. “One of the other Servants?”

Qrow shook his head. “No. That’s Lancelot, the Berserker Raven had had in the last war. Long story short, he got dosed in some magic mud and wouldn’t go away. But why the hell is she sending him after a bunch of kids who aren’t even masters?”

“To draw one of us in, most likely,” Archer surmised. “We sent them on a separate route so that no one would know they were connected to us. But if your sister knows that they are our allies, she must be attempting to draw us out into the open.”

“Lancelot is infected with Salem’s power. He can’t claim the grail. There’s no point in this,” Qrow said.

“Who cares if there’s a point or not?” Jaune shouted. “We’re on the other side of the continent! How are we supposed to help them?”

“A Command Seal could easily transport a Servant that distance,” Archer informed them. “However, if Lancelot is not one of the Servants of this war, we stand nothing to gain by fighting him.”

“We’ll be protecting the others,” Jaune declared. His hard eyes brokered no argument.

Ruby could understand that. He had already lost Arturia and Pyrrha.

She didn’t think he could lose anyone else.

Archer sighed. “Very well. As an Archer class Servant, I possess the Independent Action skill. It will enable me to perform adequately despite the _prana_  strain the distance will cause—”

“I will face the traitor Jester, not you!” Mordred shouted.

“Mordred?” Jaune squawked.

Archer rolled his eyes. “You are a Saber. At that far from your master, who knows if you’ll be able to receive enough _prana_ to sustain yourself, let alone fight.”

“Do not doubt my combat ability!” Mordred yelled. She turned to Jaune and took on a more serious expression. “Lancelot was the greatest fighter the Round Table ever saw. Boosted by Mad Enchantment, no mere Jester can stand against him. The magic of the Command Seal will give me the boost I need to deal with him.”

“Will you have enough left to survive?” Jaune asked.

Mordred paused for a moment, that alone conveying the threat their foe posed. At last, she faced her sibling with a resolute scowl. “I will protect your friends. Trust in that, master.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. Ruby guessed it was the first time she hadn’t called him idiot or pretender.

The huntsman nodded. He turned to Qrow. “I just tell it what I want her to do, right?”

Qrow nodded. “Be as specific as you can.”

“This is not a good plan,” Archer protested. “It is obviously a trap, one we gain nothing from walking into.”

Jaune ignored him and raised his right hand. “Alright, by the power of my Command Seal, Mordred, go to Ren and Nora and protect them!”

The red mark glowed a fierce crimson and Mordred was engulfed in a sphere of light. A moment later, she was gone.

 

* * *

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****

Blake scrambled out of the way of Berserker’s charge, another of her shadow clones being shredded by the mad knight.

Truly, it was only the fact that he was mad that saved them. This Servant was faster that Arturia ever displayed, faster than any of them could hope to dodge naturally. He could have torn them all to pieces if he could get their hands on them.

Fortunately, Blake had sprayed him with Gambol Shroud to pull the attention onto her. While she could not dodge him, her semblance allowed her to survive each attack by substituting herself at the moment of impact. In turn, Berserker would become momentarily confused by why his target merely disappeared instead of being crushed into blood and bones. That crucial moment allowed Blake just enough time to recover her senses to pull the trick off again.

It had kept them from dying, but it wouldn’t last long.

She was already pushing her powers to their limit separating from the clone at _just_ the right moment. The precision was taking its toll on her aura.

Ren and Nora were struggling to break out of the bandits’ blockade. Normally, the pair could probably make quick work of the brigands, even against the line’s barrage, but trapped in the chaos of Blake’s desperate maneuvers and with Vernal raining down strafing fire with her circular laser guns (because that was apparently now a thing!), the duo were finding it difficult to close on their opposition.

Sun had made a worthy effort to free them up by scaling Vernal’s building and taking her out of the equation, but the bandit had proved herself no amateur, diverting her fire at just the right moment to send him hurtling back to the ground.

Blake cringed. They were getting nowhere.

**“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”**

Berserker ripped off the head of one of the courtyard’s fountains. A black smoke coated the entire stone rod, red lines flaring across it for a brief moment. Then, the knight charged.

Blake concentrated and summoned a clone, pushing herself to the right in the process.

Berserker swung his improvised weapon in a wide arc, obliterating the shadow clone.

And clipping Blake on the tail end of the slash.

“No!” Sun shouted, rushing over.

The huntress sprawled across the ground, coughing in pain. She’d barely been hit, yet it felt like her aura had been cut in half.

Berserker whirled towards her, the direct contact probably alerting him to the continuing threat. He growled and shot over to the fallen girl, his stone rod raised high.

Blake was still stunned. She couldn’t move in time.

A flash of light grabbed her up, shoving her out of the way of the Servent’s strike. Sun’s light clone disintegrated on the spot.

The boy himself dashed right next to her and helped her to her feet.

Berserker twitched in rage at not getting a corpse yet again.

“You okay?” Sun asked quickly.

“We have to get out of her,” Blake panted, a hand clutching her side. “If we don’t, we’re all gonna—”

A laser shot down from above and sent them both flying. When Blake struggled to her knees, Vernal grinned down at her.

“Die?” she mocked from her position of safety. “You’re absolutely right, kitty cat. But how about we make it a game? We’ll see who kills you first. Me…” she raised her laser gun, “… or him.”

Berserker reoriented himself and glared down on Blake.

There was nothing she could do. She was winded and low on aura. Sun was still recovering from the last blast. Ren and Nora were too far away.

She couldn’t escape. She couldn’t run.

Vernal fired.

Berserker charged.

Blake closed her eyes.

A resounding _clang_ echoed throughout the battlefield.

“What?” Vernal shouted. “Bullhead?”

_Bullhead?_

Blake opened her eyes and gaped in awe.

Berserker had been forced back from her, Lancer protectively standing over her, both his spears ready and waiting. The green knight shot a withering glare at his black counterpart, filled to the brim with utter contempt.

“Well, my darling…”

Blake turned to her other side and found her second protector, this one even more familiar. His crimson katana glowed with the energy absorbed from Vernal’s blast, hungry for blood.

Adam grinned, “…room for three more.”


	28. The Berserkers Charge

Nora roared as she smashed her hammer into a cluster of bandits, sendingthe scumbags flying into incomplete walls, crumbling them evenmore in turn.

She ideally noted the familiar _pitta pat_ of Stormflower's barrage and grinned. She had been worried about how well Ren would be able to fight given where they were and Berserker overwhelming his semblance.

She should have known better. When it came to keeping his cool under fire, there was no one better than Ren! Even without being able to sense their enemies' emotions, he was covering her back as well as ever, taking out bandits left and right.

Bending her knees low, she whirled around Magnhild in a wide arc. As expected, Ren had already leaped into the air, leaving only foes in her path. The brigands smacked into the cobblestone roads, several clutching their legs in agony.

Ren flipped over her back and let loose a spray of bullets all around. Their attackers fled the onslaught, forming a perimeter circle a healthy distance away from them. More foes flooded into the alley from the other blockades, replacing bruised and winded enemies with fresh obstacles.

Nora chuckled. They might have been surrounded, but she and Ren hadbeen fighting together since they'd first met that sad day in Kuroyuri. They'd grown up battling Grimm as they scavenged their way from town to town. They knew each other's moves and styles inside and out. They didn't just fight in sync, they fought as one. One unstoppable leg breaking thunderstorm of flowers.

No bandits were going to take them down.

They'd clear the way in no time and then go back for Blake and Sun. If they could disappear into the forest, they would be able to escape from Berserker. They'd be home free.

"Alright, you punks! Play time's over!"

A gangly bandit with a mane of dirty brown hair pushed his way to the front of his allies. He hefted a bazooka over his shoulder. "Now you're going to get it!"

The surrounding thugs' eyes widened. "Shay, you idiot, we're too close—"

The fool didn't listen and fired.

Acting fast, Nora shifted Magnhild into grenade launcher mode and sent a round back at him. The two explosives collided in midair and the resulting maelstrom scattered everyone.

Nora flew back into the courtyard. She expected to land on hard ground but instead felt something squishy and…handsome.

"Eeep!" she squealed, jumping off of Ren. "Ren, are you okay?"

The boy groaned. "No, mama. I don't want to learn archery. Please teach me cooking as good as Mr. Archer's."

"Yeah, you're good."

"But you're not."

Nora whirled around, standing protectively over Ren with Magnhild ready to fire. Most of the bandits were still down from the blast, but a few, including the idiot who caused it (Shay?), were up and aiming their weapons at the downed huntsmen.

Shay smirked, a tooth missing from his grin. "Nowhere to run, girly. Unless you want to tangle with Berserker."

Despite herself, Nora glanced back at the courtyard. Surprisingly, there were some new figures, a bull faunus with a red katana helping Blake to her feet and some guy with two spears who was almost as handsome as Ren dancing around Berserker.

It wasn't what she expected, but that was probably for the better. There was only so long that Blake could survive against the Black Knight, and she wouldn't have even gotten that far if it wasn't for his insanity. With any luck, their unexpected reinforcements would buy them the time they needed to escape.

Which meant she would have to fight her way…

Suddenly, a crack of crimson lightning thundered through the air. A sphere of blinding red light materialized right in front of Nora and Ren. The bandits stumbled back in shock while the Valkyrie grinned.

She'd never seen this thing before, but she had a good feeling about. Her team leader always came through for them.

Sure enough, the sphere dissipated, and standing in its place was their knight in shining armor. Well, knight in Yang's brown jacket, but same difference.

"Mor-Mor!" Nora cheered.

Mordred glanced back at her and nodded. "Good. You're still alive" she noted.

Nora snorted. "Of course, we're still alive, Mor-Mor. It's just some bandits." Her gaze became serious. "But Blake and Sun need your help. Berserker—"

"I know," Mordred growled, her sword flashing into her hand. "Where is the traitor?"

Nora pointed behind her. Sun had run over to Blake and the bull faunus and they seemed to be engaged in a heated discussion. Probably disagreeing about strategy or something.

More importantly, the spear guy was still occupying Berserker. The black knight seemed far more at ease with a weapon in his hands, even a makeshift one like his blackened fountainhead. While his charges against Blake had been wild and untamed, his blows against his new opponent were concentrated, coordinated, while still retaining the ferocity from before.

Fortunately, the spearman proved himself a more capable opponent then Blake. Nora noted that meant he was probably a Servant himself.

He certainly had the talent of one. Every time Berserker struck, he always danced away like a graceful swan, usually scoring a glancing blow against his foe's armor at the same time. Still, the black knight was hot on his tail, and it didn't look like either one could claim the advantage just yet.

Mordred growled, then glanced at the bandits. She raised her sword at them.

At least one of the thieves darkened his pants.

Nora raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing? You need to fight Berserker."

"I know that, demon!" Mordred shouted. "But my…master's Command Seal ordered me to protect the two of you. As long as Lancelot's not going after you, I have to stay here."

Oh.

That was a slight problem. If Mordred couldn't go where she was needed, then they were all…

 _‘_ _Hmm…’_ Nora thought to herself, hand cupped to her chin, before an idea formed in her head.

"Mor-Mor, what areyou protecting us from?"

Mordred cocked her head to the side. "Them, I guess," she replied, gesturing towards Shay and the other bandits, all of whom were currently trembling in utter terror in the face of the Saber.

Nora grinned. "Mor-Mor, you can only protect someone from a threat."

"And?"

"Do these guys look like a threat?"

Mordred blinked for a moment before her mouth split into a devilish smirk. "No, my lady. They look like prey."

Nora gestured towards the other Servants. "Go get 'em, tiger."

"Happy hunting, my lady."

Armor materialized around Mordred. Crimson lightning sparked off the battle-hungry knight and she dashed off into the courtyard.

What she didn't notice was that a single spark had rained onto Nora.

Now, Nora's semblance was a funny thing. It absorbed any electricity that came into contact with her, channeling it into energy and a boost in strength and speed. How much was directly proportional to the wattage she consumed. Residual static from her clothes was barely noticeable, while the stun baton she got hit with at the Vytal Festival gave her the strength to take down an entire team. She didn't fight anything after getting hit by the lightning bolt that had unlocked her powers, but, looking back, she felt like she could take on a Goliath.

Kind of like she did now.

Ren woke groggily. "Nora…what's happening-"

"Hush, Renny," Nora whispered, a finger on her friend’s lips. A grin spread across her face. Magnhild transformed back into hammer mode as she licked her lips. "Momma's got legs to break."

Shay and his posse backed away in fear.

The Valkyrie roared and charged.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Adam grinned as he helped Blake to her feet. It felt good to play the hero to her again. Especially against his old teachers **.**

When Ilia and Lancer had told him of a black armored Berserker roaming the countryside, he had known immediately it was the knight of the Branwen Tribe. He had been foolish enough to believe the creature was just an exceptionally powerful huntsman during his training, but with Gilgamesh confirming the rumors from back then, it seemed obvious what the madman was in hindsight. The threat of Blake's group encountering him had forced him to close their following distance and send everyone except Ilia ahead to headquarters to keep them safe.

It seemed it had been a wise decision. Though he couldn't read Berserker's stats through his master vision for some reason, he was confident that Lancer could defeat him. Meanwhile, he, Ilia, and hopefully Blake would deal with the human trash.

Blake nodded at him when she got to her feet. "Thanks for the save."

"Anytime," he chuckled.

"Blake!" A blond monkey faunus ran over to them. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sun. A little bruised, by I'll make it."

The boy nodded. He stared at Adam suspiciously. "So, I'mguessing you're Adam?"

"I am."

Adam had mixed feelings on the monkey boy. Sun Wukong, was it? He had fought admirably in the Vytal Festival, and it was a relief to know that Blake wasn't completely surrounded by human scum. But at the same time, was this really what she'd stayed away from him for?

Aw, screw it. He had bigger fish to fry.

Vernal whistled from above. "Well if this isn't a blast from the past. How have you been, Adam? Still seeing red?"

"Still pretending to be a warrior, Vernal?" he spat back. "Or did Raven's skirts finally get too dusty?"

The bandit woman snarled, then chuckled. "Still a grade A piece of shit. Got it. No idea how the grail thought you were a good choice for a master."

Adam frowned. "The grail chose me because I have a worthy cause, conviction. You're just a bunch of common thieves."

"Says the guy who came to us for training," Vernal remarked. "Eh, oh well. Who cares? At least someone took the bait."

"Bait," Blake muttered.

Vernal rolled her eyes. "Yes, kitty cat, bait. Did you really think we'd come to this ruin for just you?"

Her eyes flickered to a back alley. A flash of red illuminated the corner of Adam's eye.

A raven flew onto Vernal's rooftop.

Sun pointed his staff at Vernal. "If you haven't noticed, your Berserker's pretty occupied. What's to say we won't take you down while he can't save you?"

"You're welcome to try, furball," Vernal taunted.

"Then try we shall," Adam declared. "Ilia!"

Vernal's eyes widened in shock. She whirled around as Ilia revealed herself on the rooftop, having snuck up in camouflage while Adam had been talking.

The chameleon girl activated her whip just as Vernal raised her guns. She snagged the edge of one of the circular blades and tugged, sending the following blast off target and disorienting the bandit woman for a moment.

A moment was all Adam needed.

The Blood-Soaked Bull leapt into the air, landing on a window sill before finishing the climb to the top. He arrived on the roof on the opposite side of Vernal from Ilia, forcing the bandit to split her attention between them.

She aimed a gun at each of them and fired. Ilia dropped and dodged as Adam drew Wilt and absorbed the laser, the energy storing in his semblance.

Blake and Sun jumped onto the roof, each taking one of Vernal's open sides. The bandit was completely surrounded.

Adam slammed Wilt into Blush, his hair beginning to glow.

Vernal's eyes widened, recognizing the danger. She rapidly fell back, identifying Ilia as the weak link at close range and lashing out, desperate to escape. Blake and Sun moved to support the girl.

Adam grinned. It wasn't necessary.

In one smooth motion, he drew his sword in a single supercharged slash. With the power he'd absorbed over the course of the brief battle, he'd cut right through Vernal's aura and claim her head.

Or at least, he would have if a bird hadn't flown in his path.

He honestly didn't understand what happened next. One moment, a raven fluttered into his attack. The next, the creature transformed into Raven Branwen, who met his attack with her own crimson blade.

His semblance allowed him to absorb energy over the course of a fight and channel it into a single strike of his sword. Normally, this meant that he sheared through anything in his way with one clean cut. But Raven's blade was made of dust, far more volatile than most objects. When his slash made contact, instead of being sliced in two, the sword dispersed the kinetic force throughout its structure. The weapon was shattered, but the assault was stopped.

The explosion that occurred afterward?

 _‘The psychopath made a sword out of fire dust! Who even does that?’_ Adam thought to himself, a growl escaping his lips.

Nonetheless, he and his allies were blasted back to the courtyard below. A breeze rushed by his face and he found himself intercepted by something that felt suspiciously little like the ground.

"Are you alright, master?" Lancer inquired, looking down worriedly on Adam in his arms.

The bull leapt out of the spearman's grip. "What are you doing, you fool?"

The Servant raised an eyebrow. "You were in danger, master. I could not let you fall."

"I can take care of myself!" Adam protested. "You're the only one here who can deal with Berserker!"

"Respectfully, my lord, that is not the case."

"What?"

Adam whirled around to the courtyard. Lancer was correct. A new combatant, a knight clad in gray armor and a spiked helmet, matched Berserker blow for blow. Crimson lightning met riving shadow as the two wild warriors clashed, the cobblestone scattering beneath their steel, and the night lighting up like a bloody wound every other moment.

"This knight appeared out of nowhere. He practically threw himself at Berserker," Lancer explained. "If I didn't already know otherwise, I would think he was the Berserker."

Adam scrunched his eyes. The Branwen Berserker had existed before the new grail war. It was entirely plausible that this new warrior was indeed the fresh Servant of Madness.

 _"Orders, master?"_ Lancer inquired telepathically.

Adam considered the situation. They had nothing to gain by slaying the Branwen Berserker, but he doubted Raven would stop hunting until she was deprived of her greatest weapon. Meanwhile, the death of the new Berserker would get them one step closer to the grail. And since the Servant's master didn't seem to be in the area, they had nothing to lose by having someone else do the killing.

 _‘Ally with this new Servant against Berserker’,_ Adam commanded. _‘With any luck, we'll kill two Nevermores with one stone.’_

Lancer bowed. _"At once, my lord."_

The green-clad spearman charged back into the fray of his fellows.

Adam smirked. Lancer had understood his plan perfectly. He would ensure this new Servant was slain by Berserker, and then defeat the weakened black knight himself, eliminating both their foes with ease.

Perhaps there was an upside to having a human Servant. Only their species could be so opportunistically cunning.

Blake glanced at the Servants' _melee a trois_. "Is Lancer going to be okay?"

Ilia grinned and nodded eagerly. "No need to worry. Like I told you, he's amazing."

"He can handle them," Adam interrupted. "Now get ready. We've got our own problem to deal with."

All of them looked up to the rooftop. The haze from the explosion finally dissipated, revealing the bandits unharmed, surrounded in a swirling dome of wind.

"I see you've learned a trick, Raven," Adam taunted.

The woman behind the elaborate Grimm mask gazed down upon, her emotions hidden behind the face of a demon. Then, she turned to Vernal without a word.

Somehow, that made Adam angrier than any insult an Atlesian had ever hurled at him.

"Signal phase two," she ordered her lieutenant. "The others have come through."

Vernal nodded and pulled out a new clip from her belt. She loaded it into her weapon and aimed at the sky.

Adam seethed. "Raven! Come down and face me! Or would you rather hide like a coward?"

The masked woman sighed. "Boy," she stated as if dealing with a whining child, "it is not cowardice to leave an ant to be squashed by someone else's boot."

Vernal fired her weapon, a bright green flare blazing into the night sky.

Adam blinked in shock. A green flare was the tribe's signal for retreat. He had never seen it used during his training and he had wondered at the time if it ever had been fired at all. After all, to retreat from an enemy was a sign of weakness. And the weak died while the strong lived.

But strong did not bother with those too weak to challenge them.

Adam seethed in absolute fury. "No," he muttered, "no, no, no, no, no! Do not turn your back on me! Fight me, Branwen!"

Raven slashed her odachi through the air, summoning a swirling black and red portal. Vernal obediently ran through it. The bandit leader herself followed soon after, barely sparing the bull faunus a glance.

"No!" Adam roared.

He had been looked down upon all his life. Mostly by humans. For a time, he had been able to bear that, pacified bythe teachings of Ghira Belladonna. But when he had decided not to take it anymore, he had sought out the Branwen Tribe to learn how to fight back.

Raven Branwen had been a merciless teacher. On his first night, she had dumped him into the middle of nowhere with no food and no weapons and told him to make it back to camp through Grimm infested forest. That was the kindest lesson she'd ever taught him, but her tutelage had paid off. By the time they were done, Adam had perfect control of his semblance and could take down a horde of Grimm without breaking a sweat. For that, he had been eternally grateful to his teacher, despite her race.

But she was also the worst of her species. She slaughtered the innocent for nothing more than her own gain, believing in no higher cause. When he'd tried to convince her to help him train more White Fang members, she'd scoffed at him.

_'Why would I teach anyone too weak to figure it out on their own?'_

Adam refused to join her. He had returned to the White Fang and passed on what he could to anyone willing to learn. He'd based the practice of wearing Grimm masks on Raven's tendency to do the same, to embody the same fear her victims held for her throughout all of humanity.

But he was not some base bandit scum. He fought to defend his people, to protect the rights of faunus across Remnant.

To make sure none of them were looked down upon ever again.

Yet even still, his teacher denied him.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!"

* * *

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Raven sighed as she exited the portal to the rendezvous point. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Who knew Bullhead would become a master?" Vernal joked.

Raven shrugged. "In hindsight, it does make sense. He was always going on about fighting for some higher cause. It's no wonder his wish was strong enough to attract the Grail's attention." She smirked. "Besides, he's just made our job much easier."

Adam was as lethal as any huntsmen, a swordsman second only to herself and Qrow, and, when his head was on straight, an inspiring leader. He was also highly emotional, temperamental and had a tendency to jump to conclusions when enraged.

Which, given how she specifically ignored him and made mention of working with nonexistent others, would drive the foolish boy to lash out at the most obvious suspect, the Arc boy's Saber.

She'd leave Lancelot in the fray for a bit just to stoke the fire, then order him away via Command Seal. He would remain at the rendezvous point afterward. He was far too unpredictable for the next stage of her plan.

That caused Raven to grin as she gazed upon her other Berserker, who was currently her connection to the rendezvous point.

Strong, solid, practically invulnerable, and with much more controllable madness. Even if the Grail had the gall to drag her back into this mess, at least it had the decency to provide her with an ace of a Servant.

She turned to Vernal. "Remain here until Lancelot arrives. With Adam present, there should still be sufficient threat to Belladonna's group to keep Arc from calling back his Servant. I'll need you to be my new anchor to this area once Berserker is with me."

Her semblance was powerful, allowing her to create links to anyone she had an emotional connection with. She could then sense if they were in true danger and create portals to them at her leisure. She didn't do it often to help them, after all, they needed to be able to stand on their own. But everyone got one free save the first time she felt them in real danger, like her daughter on that train under Mountain Glenn.

Still, she wouldn't deny the teleportation was useful for other matters.

Vernal nodded dutifully. "Got it. But what if Lancelot doesn't want to leave the fight?"

Raven clenched her right arm. Underneath her glove, her Command Seals blazed like a brand.

"He will."

She slashed the air once more and disappeared through the portal.

* * *

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Ruby gazed contemplatively on the spot where Mordred had once stood. "Woah."

Archer scowled. "Indeed. The Command Seals are some of the most impressive magecraft to ever be created, almost on the level of True Magic. Each one is capable of breaking the rules of reality."

He turned to Jaune. "Which is why they should not be wasted on something that cannot benefit us. It may have been our enemy's entire goal to trick you into using one."

"Bite me," Jaune snorted back. "It's a small price to pay if the others are safe."

"Safe for the moment," Archer reminded him. "If you lose this war, they'll die along with everyone else."

Jaune stomped towards Archer, but Uncle Qrow got in between them. "Okay, enough of that. We've done what we can. The rest is in Saber's hands."

"True, it will be interesting to see how a battle between the two greatest traitors to Camelot will play out," Archer admitted.

Jaune glared at the silver-haired Servant. "She's not a traitor."

Archer smirked. "Oh. Have you finally received your memory cycle? Seen things from her point of view? Don't let your dreams blind you to who she is. The Knight of Treachery is not a title earned lightly."

Ruby raised an eyebrow.

‘ _Memory cycle? Is that what those dreams… wait a second.’_  

Qrow held Jaune back from charging. "What part of 'enough', do you not get, Archer?"

The bowman shrugged. "Forgive me. I simply have an aversion to fool—"

"Who's the boy with red hair?"

All three men froze and turned to Ruby. Jaune and Uncle Qrow appeared confused, but Archer looked like he'd just had a heart attack.

Ruby didn't let the attention get to her and stared down her Servant, his eyes barely able to meet her silver gaze. "Well? Who's the boy with red hair? I saw him in my dreams when he summoned Arturia."

Archer's terror disappeared, replaced his usual condescending mirth. "It appears you answered your own question, master. If he summoned Arturia, then he could only be—"

"Her master in the Fourth War," Ruby finished. "But you told me that Kiritsugu was her master then. So, who was he?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea—"

"Then why was he in your memories?" Ruby demanded.

Archer blinked, confounded.

"You called Jaune's dreams about Mordred a memory cycle," she pointed out. "You said he 'finally' got it, like he's supposed to have had it already. And I've been having weird dreams since I summoned you. If Jaune's seen Mordred's memories, then I must be seeing yours. So, one last time, who is the boy with red hair?"

Archer scowled. "Master, that boy has no relevance to the current situation."

"I don't care," Ruby declared. "I want to know who the boy who stared at Saber in awe was. And I want to know how he is connected to you and Kiritsugu. Because everything you tell me feels like a piece to a puzzle that I need to know, but none of it makes any sense—"

"Ruby."

"What?" Ruby shouted, whirling on Uncle Qrow.

The huntsman pushed her behind him and drew his sword. "We have company."

A crimson portal shimmered into existence at the base of the hill. Ruby readied Crescent Rose while Jaune drew Crocea Mors.

Archer narrowed his eyes at the shimmering doorway.

A tall figure in a red battle dress and an elaborate Grimm mask strode into the forest at the base of the hill. A large sword sheath that made Ruby want to drool was strapped to her side.

"Raven," Qrow growled. "Don't suppose you're here for a family chat."

The woman reached up and removed her mask.

Ruby gasped. Even if she didn't already know, she would never mistake the person before her for not being Yang's mom. She looked like an older version of her sister, only with black hair instead of blonde, and crimson eyes so much colder than the familiar violet ones.

Raven smirked. "Actually brother, I am in a way."

Qrow raised an eyebrow. He flicked a switch on his sword and it unfolded into its scythe form. "Explain, now."

 _"Be on your guard, master,"_ Archer warned. _"I do not sense another Servant nearby, but an Assassin would be fully capable of hiding from my senses."_

Ruby nodded. She hadn't heard many stories about Raven growing up,Dad didn't want to encourage Yang's search, but what she did hear didn't paint the picture of a diplomatic person. If there was a reason for her not coming in guns blazing, it probably wasn't a good one for them.

"It's quite simple really," Raven stated. "I have no desire for anyone else to get dragged into Ozpin's war with Salem. And I have even less desire for the Grail to infect children."

"You care about children now? When are you planning to pay Yang a visit?" Qrow snarked.

Raven sighed. "I have spent the last nineteen years studying the war, and in that time, I have discovered, among other things, how to transfer Command Seals from one person to another." She turned her gaze to Ruby. "I can take your Command Seals and your Servants. You would no longer be hunted by other masters or obligated to compete. You would be free."

Jaune raised Crocea Mors. "Free? Free to do what? Hand the grail over to you?"

"It's better than the alternatives," Raven pointed out. "This war is populated by beings more ruthless than you could possibly conceive."

"We know about Salem. And Gilgamesh" Ruby informed her.

Raven frowned. "You may know _of_ them, but I doubt you know them. The King of Heroes is more akin to a force of nature than a Servant. He will tear down any defense you attempt to mount and crush you like an ant. And Salem… she will twist everything you've ever believed in and use it to annihilate you. The two of you barely survived the Fall of Beacon, and they didn't know you existed then. How do think you'll fair now that you've caught their attention?"

Ruby looked down at her boots. That…was a fair point.

"I'm no saint," Raven admitted. "But you can trust that my wish for the grail is nothing apocalyptic. Give me your Servants, and I promise neither of them will get it."

Jaune glared at her, "Thanks but no thanks. I've got my own wish for the grail. Plus, I don't think Saber would take tookindly to me giving her away."

Raven turned to Ruby, her eyes softer than with the others. No, that wasn't it. They were almost…fearful?

"And you, Ruby Rose?" the bandit leader asked.

Ruby glanced at her Command Seals, then Archer, who impassively observed the proceedings. Finally, she shook her head. "I can't give you, Archer. I summoned him, and we swore to fight this war together. Even if it seems impossible, if the odds are against us, we can win this war. All of us."

She held out her hand to Raven. "We can beat Salem and Gilgamesh. You don't have to fight this war alone."

The bandit leader stumbled back, her eyes wide. A moment later however, she scowled. "You sound just like Summer."

Raven rapidly drew her sword and slashed through the air, summoning another crimson portal, this one far larger than the last.

A series of shockwaves echoed through the ground. A massive, muscled hand reached through the doorway.

Archer paled. "You have got to be kidding to me."

The portal closed, and the figure emerged in all their glory.

He stood as tall as an Ursa Major, the spikes replaced by a mass of untamable hair. Every inch of his body was packed with hulking indomitable muscle, a huge stone sword hefted in his hands like it was a twig. His face had a single red eye, blazing with crushing intimidation. His aura seemed to declare to the world:

_Here I am. If you face me, you are brave. If you hide, you are wise. Either way, you will fail._

Qrow gulped. "That's not Lancelot."

"Nope," Raven smirked. "He's entertaining your friend Saber."

She held out her hand. "One last chance. Give me your Command Seals and I promise no harm will come to you."

Ruby looked at Jaune. Her friend nodded to her with a determined expression. She smiled back.

_‘Archer’ she asked telepathically. ‘Can you beat this guy?’_

_“No.”_

…

…

…

_‘Are you sure—'_

_“I cannot defeat this Servant alone.”_

Ruby grinned. She understood what he was saying. _‘Then it's a good thing you're not alone.’_

_“No, master. That is not at all what I—"_

"Do your worst!" Ruby declared out loud, twirling her scythe.

Raven frowned. "So be it. Berserker."

The Servant flared to life. Its already enormous muscles bulged to twice their size, their dull brown skin igniting to a fiery red.

Berserker roared, and all of Remnant fell silent.


	29. Knights of Oniyuri

_He was lost. Lost in the rage._

_The pain._

_The resentment._

_Lost in the endless shadow she cast._

_It was as he deserved._

_He was unworthy._

_His fault. His sin._

_The end of her shining kingdom._

_His failure._

_His madness was his punishment._

_It was just._

_But it was not sufficient._

**_The_ ** _punishment was incomplete._

_He needed atonement._

_He needed her._

_He needed her to strike him down with all her rage._

_He could not tolerate any more forgiveness._

_The Rider… The Rider had granted him a short reprieve._

_A moment to serve his new master._

_He could not even remember the oath._

_He was surrounded by enemies, foes to be crushed._

_The children that turned to mist when slain._

_The fool with the strange red sword._

_The swift man with the twin lances._

_And the newest arrival, the knight in full armor with a mighty sword and elegant sheath._

_Sheathe…_

**_Her_ ** _sheath._

_The knight bore her sheath._

_She was the knight._

_She howled at him with ungodly fury._

_He would have her rage._

_He would have her judgment._

_He would have atonement._

**"AAAAAAARRRRRTTTHHHHUUUUURRRRR!"**

* * *

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"AAAAAhhhhhhh!"

Mordred met the black knight's howls just as Clarent met his weapon. The two knights charged madly about the battlefield, each lost in their endless bloodlust. The cobblestone shattered beneath their feet, their every clash creating a new crater in the courtyard.

She could barely contain her excitement. This was a chance she'd been waiting a long time for. If there was one member of the Round Table she despised nearly as much as her father, it was Sir Lancelot du Lac. At one time, he had been a figure of admiration for the Knight of Treachery, if only for his skills. There was no finer warrior in all of Britain, a fact even King Arthur did not contest. He was a knight among knights.

And then she'd discovered his adultery with the Queen. To know that another so-called paragon was really nothing to admire infuriated Mordred after her father had refused to acknowledge her. She'd led the charge to arrest them both, but the Knight of the Lake had escaped her justice. No more.

"Come, traitor!" she roared, as their weapons locked once more. "Your judgment is at hand!"

Clarent sparked and Mordred activated her Prana Burst, power surging through her body. She pushed Lancelot's bludgeon into the ground and leapt over the weapons to kick him in the face.

The black knight's head jerked back and his grip on his makeshift Noble Phantasm failed.

Mordred didn't give him the chance to recover. She charged at the traitor with her sword held high and smashed him. Clarent was a storm of death as she hacked and slashed at the black armor, not giving her enemy time to grab another object to be his weapon.

She had him.

Until he caught her sword.

Before proceeding to kick her into a house.

The thick stone walls crumpled under her impact. Wooden support beams tumbled to the ground.

Mordred growled and shot back to her feet. "Is that the best you've got, you—"

Lancelot snatched up one of the fallen support beams and smacked her in the face. She was sent careening across the ground. Acting fast, she raised her sword to meet another strike from the long, blackened timber.

The ground shattered beneath her feet. Her arms strained against her foe's pressing strength. Say what you would about Lancelot (and Mordred would say many things) but the bastard wasn't letting his Mad Enchantment get the better of him. His insanity, and the extra power that came with it, only made him more terrifying.

But…

"I'm not gonna die that easy!" Mordred screamed. " **Prana Burst!** "

Lightning pulsed around her, and Clarent shoved the wooden lance into the air. Her speed amplified, Mordred dashed into her opponent's guard and bashed him in the face with her sword's pommel.

Lancelot rolled with the strike however and brought his beam around to attack.

But when he struck, Mordred didn't go flying. Instead, she thrust Clarent into the ground, freeing her hands, and grabbed the dark phantasm.

She smirked. "Oh no, you don't. That won't work twice"

The black knight howled. She gripped the wood hard. She didn't know how, but it felt like a Noble Phantasm. If she let it go free, he'd just manhandle her like before. Unfortunately, that meant she couldn't attack herself.

The weight of the beam suddenly increased. Mordred heard the sound of footsteps fast approaching one moment, and the next, she saw a man in green armor rush across the wood, brandishing a wrapped spear in each hand.

The man made it to the other end of the beam and stabbed at Lancelot's head with the longer of his spears. The black knight immediately released his improvised weapon and danced away from the assailant.

Lancer, for it could be no other, hopped back to the ground. "We can't let him hold anything," he advised her. "He has the ability to turn whatever he touches into a Noble Phantasm."

Mordred chucked away the wooden beam, the black smoke fading without its master. She panted slightly, more tired than she should have been from the battle. "No shit, idiot. Stay out of this. This is my fight."

The man raised an eyebrow, the stretching skin accentuating the mole beneath. "My apologies, but I do believe the phrase, 'I was here first' applies in this situation."

Mordred vaguely recalled seeing someone in green fighting the Berserker when she'd charged in. She hadn't been paying much attention to them at the time, what with the black knight and all.

"It doesn't matter," she declared. "I have unfinished business with the Knight of Lake. You will not interfere, Lancer!"

The spearman blinked in shock. "Knight of the Lake? Sir Lancelot? That's impossible—" the knight gazed over at where the man himself was twitching in agony. His brows furrowed in thought. "No, that makes sense. It explains why he was always chasing after her."

"Who, his whore?" Mordred scoffed. "If she is in this war somehow then I will crush her as I will crush him. Neither of them will escape justice for betraying my father."

"Your father?"

**"AAAAAAAAARRRRTTTTTTHHHHHHHHUUUUUURRRRRRR!"**

The Berserker's howl of madness cut through the air like a crack of thunder. In flash, Mordred retrieved Clarent from the ground and Lancer aimed his spears.

But Lancelot did not charge. The riving smog that had surrounded him receded, consolidating in his right hand. It stretched in his grasp, taking the length and shape of a sword.

His helmet cracked.

Mordred grinned. She had no doubt Arondight would enter the fray shortly, wielded by the greatest swordsman Camelot had ever known. The blade was a bane to dragons and those with their essence, such as her and her father. Now that it was a Noble Phantasm, she could only imagine what horror it would reap.

It was perfect. She would face down odds like no other, with a strained _prana_ link with her master no less, against the one foe her father could never defeat.

She would prove victorious, and through that victory, her father's better.

Suddenly, an orb of light formed around her foe. A moment later, it had disappeared and Lancelot with it.

"No," Mordred whispered in denial. "No, no, no, no, NO! You dare flee, Master of Lancelot! When I find you, there won't be enough left to bury!"

"Calm down, my good knight," Lancer insisted. "You will have another chance."

His words did not have the desired effect.

Mordred whirled on him. "You! Your interference kept me from finishing him! You will pay for this!"

"I was merely attempting to provide assistance, Berserker. Though I doubt—"

"Berserker? I am Saber, you fool!"

"You are?"

"Yes!" She raised Clarent as proof.

The Lancer, in turn, raised an eyebrow. "My apologies, but that is impossible. I know the identity of the Saber of this war already. Your attempted deception is pointless."

"Deception!? You ruin my chance at destroying the traitor, and now you have the gall to accuse me of deception! I will have your head for this!"

"Please, I mean no offense, good sir," Lancer pleaded. "My master is a friend of your ward, Lady Blake. We seek an alliance between our factions, and I merely do not want us to waste time with such meaningless misdirection."

Mordred chuckled darkly. "An alliance? You seek an alliance? Very well, Lancer."

She lowered her helmet, revealing her face.

Lancer gasped. "What? How?"

A feral grin appeared on her face as anger alighted in her eyes. "In the interest of analliance, look upon my face. It will be the last thing you ever see!"

The spearman was paralyzed at the sight of her. His eyes glanced about her armor, confusion etched into his brow. "Your face… you look exactly like her. It was you in the picture."

He sighed deeply. "Then the King of Knights was not summoned to this war after all."

"King of Knights?" Mordred's rage boiled over. "What business do you have with my father?"

"Father?" Lancer looked at her again and this time, his eyes widened in realization. "You… You are Mordred, the betrayer of the King of Knights."

"I am his rightful heir!" Mordred screamed. "I am his successor in every way! And I will not be insulted by some common hedge knight!"

The spearman readied his weapons. "Then come. I have unfinished business with the King of Knights, but I still have enough respect for her to fight you in her stead, Knight of Treachery. You soiled the sacred oath of a knight, and as such, it is my duty as a Heroic Spirit to take action."

"Shut up and die, Lancer!"

Mordred raised her sword and charged in a hail of lightning.

 

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The Throne of Heroes was as ancient as the Root itself. It contained individuals from every timeline, from Gilgamesh to the Last Hero. Warriors and Kings of legends beyond count occupied its ranks.

So why the hell did someone who was his enemy _always_ summon Hercules?!

Archer dived out of the way as another of the Raging Destroyer's blows smashed a row of trees into splinters. He hastily raised Kanshou and Bakuya before him, barely deflecting the lethal razor wind the attack had caused. But he couldn't negate the force that came with it, so he utilized it to roll himself deeper into the forest.

The thick trees were the only thing keeping him alive. Though they didn't stop the Berserker, they did provide Archer with the cover to maneuver. In an open field, he would be run down like a dog. This way, he could send his foe running in circles.

He heard gunfire a bit of a way off. Either Branwen had transformed his weapon against his sister, or Ruby was trying to provide him with ranged support. If it was the latter, then her efforts were pointless. Hercules' Godhand not only provided him with eleven extra lives but also nullified any attack less than A-Rank, in addition to granting future resistance after the attack had done its damage. No matter the caliber of Crescent Rose's dust bullets, or even an Origin Round, nothing his master possessed could harm the Greatest Hero of Greece.

When Raven had ordered Hercules to charge, he had immediately drawn his attention. Thanks to the Arc boy, he was the only Servant present and he doubted a woman who was willing to attack her own family would hesitate about striking down masters if given the chance. He had drawn the Berserker off into the forest while the children were supposed to escape (they were likely staying a bit off from his fight trying to find a way to help). Qrow had moved to engage his sister. Given what he had glimpsed, she had matched him blow for blow.

Which was in itself strange. A master powering two Servants, especially two Berserkers, would be hard-pressed to meet the _prana_ demands. On Remnant, those demands were fulfilled by aura, the energy that huntsmen used to fight. Given that hers should already be under immense strain, how was Raven Branwen still fighting at full capacity?

The giant ax-sword that swept past his head reminded him that he had more important things to worry about.

He leapt away into another tier of branches, barely able to catch his breath. Fighting Hercules was never easy, even in his supposedly weakest class. The man's brute strength, the instinctive combat mastery ingrained in his body, and the near invulnerability of Godhand had left Archer with no victories when he'd fought the brute alone.

He had weapons in his Reality Marble that could hurt him, true. Even some that could kill him. But the majority of those weapons required an immense _prana_ cost or sufficient range to fire as Broken Phantasms and without a convenient Saber to draw his target's attention, Archer could not fire them at full power without annihilating himself.

As such, he was stuck playing defense, carefully waiting until an opportunity presented itself to unleash his melee assault without getting swatted like a fly by demigod reflexes.

A roar heralded those same reflexes’ arrival and Archer raised Kanshou and Bakuya in a crossed defense.

Hercules' sword struck with the force of an avalanche and sent him flying back out of the canopy. He careened back down to Earth and bounced across the ground like a skipping stone across water. Only slamming into a thick tree trunk stopped his flailing.

His injuries flared like wildfire, but he'd had much worse and shoved the pain to the back of his mind. If he could survive long enough for Mordred to finish her battle, then the Arc boy could use another Command Seal to draw her back. Then, they would have a chance.

Until then, he would make use of the sizable distance he had been flown.

He felt Berserker's power as he closed, and knew he only had a few scant seconds to act. He quickly threw his swords in the direction of his foes before tracing two more pairs and doing the same. After creating another pair for himself, he held out his hand and concentrated, pulling a favorite from his arsenal.

_"I am the bone of my sword."_

Seven petals of pink energy materialized before him and Rho Aias blossomed into existence.

Not a moment too soon either. Hercules crashed through the forest, toppling dozens of trees as he ran. He raised his sword and smashed Archer's greatest defense with all his might.

Agony lashed through Archer's body as each layer of the shield shattered. The barrier was made for stopping thrown weapons, so Hercules' slash combined with his indomitable strength compromised even the conceptual weapon.

Still, it stalled the Berserker for a crucial moment and keep his focus towards his front.

Kanshou and Bakuya were joined weapons. If one was thrown, it would always return to the other. And when Archer created multiple of the blades, he could exploit that link.

The swords in his hands hummed with power.

The three pairs he had launched before came hurtling through the air, straight at Berserker's back. Perhaps a sane Hercules would have been able to dodge but as he was, the brute was too committed and focused on his swing at Rho Aias to block the barrage. The blades embedded themselves his back and at least one got his heart.

Hercules' red eye went dark. Archer knew it would not remain so for long.

He dashed away as fast as he could with his injuries. Kanshou and Bakuya were dependable but they were barely powerful enough to break through Godhand. Excalibur could keep Berserker dead for several seconds while he regenerated. Repairing the current damage would not take so long. He had to get to shooting range before he woke up.

He was only a few dozen yards away when he saw the rose petals.

"Archer, that was amazing!" Ruby cheered, hopping giddily in front of him. "You were all like 'whoosh', and he was all like 'aarrghh', and you were all like—"

"Master, move now!" he shouted.

The girl barely had time to look confused before Hercules' roar of revival split the air.

Archer leapt away from his master and crossed his swords again. Berserker did not disappoint, arriving a moment later and smashing him through a line of trees.

He groaned, lying in a pile of splinters and the shattered remains of his projections. The latter quickly faded back into nothingness.

Hercules loomed over him and raised his massive stone sword. Archer was still too stunned from the last assault to move out of the way.

He grinned the grin of a fool, amused by his own failing.

_'Only one life taken and the first Servant to die. Can't say it's my best run of a Grail War, but all things considered, it could have been…'_

"Get away from him!"

Hercules' eyes widened in…terror? He whirled around and met a slash from Ruby's silver scythe.

Wait… silver?

Archer checked he hadn't been hit too hard in the head and was amazed to see that Ruby Rose's scythe was indeed glowing silver, a beam of the same colored light attached to her eyes. As the weapon collided with Hercules' blade, a spike of the energy leaked off and slashed at the giant's side.

Berserker howled in pain, the silver taint spreading around the cut like frost. He hobbled back from the girl, his off hand clutching his wound.

Archer didn't waste the miracle and scrambled back to his feet, leaping out of striking range of the enemy Servant. Even then, his mind was racing. He hadn't been sure what to think when his master had mentioned her eyes' powers all those months ago, dismissing it as a child's rationalization for something they did not understand.

But if their power was real, and if it could penetrate Godhand… What kind of monster was his master?

Ruby herself stumbled back in a daze, the glow fading from her eyes. She groaned and put her hand to her temple. "Ugh, what was that?"

Hercules answered by rushing forward and smacking her with the back of his hand. The girl's aura broke on impact, and then she slammed into a tree.

"Ruby!" the Arc boy shouted, having just arrived.

The huntress fell to the ground.

She didn't get up.

 


	30. Desperate Plans

"Ruby!" Jaune cried out in horror.

He rushed over to his fallen friend, her body unconscious and unmoving on the ground. The side of her shirt was wet with blood ashe leveraged her head onto his knees.

For a moment, he saw another friend's body. One with bronze armor and far more blood.

"No, no, no, no…" he muttered, his voice starting to rise in a panic. "Not again. Please not again."

Archer dashed over to him, a trickle of blood running down his head. He growled as he observed the situation.

"Put pressure on the wound. Now!" he ordered. "If she dies, then I die. And then, he'll crush you."

Jaune nodded fervently and did just that. He looked up at the Servant frantically. "What do we do?"

A thunderous roar reminded them they were not alone.

Archer grimaced. "Lead him off."

He leapt into the forest, Berserker chasing close behind.

Jaune turned back to Ruby, his hands pushing against her side, desperately trying to keep the blood inside her.

This was all his fault. But worse, he didn't know what else he could have done. If he hadn't sent Mordred to help Ren and Nora, maybe she could have helped fight Berserker. But if he hadn't sent her, then Lancelot would have slaughtered their other friends and then Raven would have used that portal trick of hers to bring her other Servant to even the odds. Either way, people he loved would die.

And he couldn't do anything! He was too weak to help, too useless to do anything but get in the way! Mom, Pyrrha… everyone kept getting hurt because he couldn't do anything to help them.

He couldn't be useless.

He  _refused_ to be useless!

Suddenly, his hands ignited in an ethereal white glow as power and energy rushed through him and seemed to infuse itself into Ruby. Her aura flashed a bright gold and then sustained itself a strong red. The wound he had felt in her side began to rapidly close up.

Jaune gasped. He'd never seen anyone's aura return that quickly after being broken. Not only that, it felt like he was… pushing his aura into hers, somehow supercharging it. It was the only explanation of how she was healing from a mortal wound like it was nothing.

But it didn't make any sense. He'd never heard of any kind of aura manipulation that could transfer power between two people. That was like giving someone a portion of your soul. The only thing that might be able to dothat was…

"…A semblance," Jaune whispered, shock on his face at the sudden revelation.

He looked down at his glowing hands. Was this his semblance? Aura manipulation? Could he give his strength to help his friends?

That was perfect! Pyrrha had told him ages ago that he had mountains of aura. If he could give it to his friends, they could make better use of it than he ever could. After all, if this was his semblance, then he didn't have any super powerful, game-changing attacks…

Oh wait, he did have one of those. Maybe. If he could figure out how to use it.

A titanic roar sounded through the air.

No time like the present.

 

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Raven spared her wrist a glance as her last Command Seal of the Fifth War disappeared. A moment later, she raised her odachi to parry a strike from her brother. It was a close call, but getting Lancelot out of Oniyuri, and out of the way of the two Servants there, was worth the risk.

Besides, if worse came to worst and Qrow broke through her guard, she could just use her maiden abilities to get some breathing room. It wasn't her preferred course of action, she didn't need Ozpin's cabal hounding her so they could "protect" her, but it was an option.

Her brother pushed on his attack, his scythe striking unusually swift for such a cumbersome appearing weapon. His short, yet somehow sweeping slashes eventually forced the two of them into a blade lock.

"How could you do this?" Qrow demanded. "How could you turn that thing on your family?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, brother. Berserker has explicit orders not to kill you or the girl."

"And Jaune?"

"The Arc boy? When did he become family?"

Raven was ruthless. She had pity for Jaune Arc's predicament, but she would not spare his life if he refused to surrender.

Qrow… she would not kill him if she did not absolutely have to. Despite his stupidity in clinging to Ozpin, he was still her brother. One did not harm family needlessly.

That was part of the reason she had mercy for the Rose girl, however misplaced that instinct was. Still, the other factor of the matter was more than enough cause to leave her alive. She’d just take her arm and call it a day, perfectly reasonable.

Apparently, her brother did not seem to agree. His eyes narrowed at her in disgust. "He's just a kid, Raven."

She snorted. "How many people had we killed when we were just kids, brother?"

She slid her sword down Qrow's scythe and slashed a portal into the air, a corresponding door appearing right behind him. She reinserted her weapon into her scabbard and leapt through the swirling void, drawing a new wind dust blade as she came behind her brother.

It was ironic. Her semblance allowed her to make portals to those she had a bond with, come to their aid whenever she chose. But it also made her twice as effective in combat against them. The ones she cared for were the ones she could hurt the most.

Qrow was accustomed to her strategy however, and quickly whirled his scythe around to meet her strike. The two re-engaged, falling into a back and forth they'd created over decades of sparring together. Each of them knew the other's style inside and out, having been there as it was created. Neither of them had any moves to surprise the other.

By appearances, they were perfectly matched, equally skilled in every conceivable way. The fight could not be decided by strength. Merely circumstance, and luck.

And when one was against Qrow, luck was not on their side.

Somewhere off in the forest, Berserker howled in rage.

Suddenly, a blinding shot of pain shot through Raven's side. Normally, she was trained to endure such agony, but this… she couldn't helpbut flinch, her sword lowering just an inch.

That was all the opening Qrow needed. He came in hard and fast, an onslaught of heavy strikes battering Raven across the hill. He took the high ground, so gravity enhanced his attacks. Eventually, he cornered her against a tree at the edge of the forest. He brought his scythe down for a final stroke, the strength behind it sure to break her aura.

That is if she didn't riposte at the last moment.

The scythe was forced to the ground and she flicked her odachi, blasting Qrow back with a storm of wind dust.

Now with time to think, Raven examined her side. She was disconcerted to find herself uninjured. While normally that would be a relief, the fact that she felt the pain in the first place meant it must have come through the link with one of her Servants.

Lancelot was unlikely, having been pulled back to the rendezvous point, so that left Berserker. Based on what she had seen of the Archer's lackluster stats, she doubted he had anything capable of truly wounding the behemoth. Which left Ruby's silver eyes.

Had she accessed her full power? Had Summer's gambit finally paid off?

No. If it had, Berserker wouldn't be alive.

Still, to pierce Godhand, after having awakened mere months ago… The Grail War had done wonders for her.

Perhaps it was time to stop holding back.

She smirked. Power coursed through her veins. She raised her right hand and rings of fire blossomed around her eyes.

Qrow's eyes widened in shock. "No, that's impossible."

Moisture condensed from the air. Slowly, that water froze into a mighty glacier, hovering before its master's palm.

Raven flexed her fingers, and the iceberg thrust at Qrow.

 

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Blake had been relieved when Adam and Ilia had arrived. Beyond the obvious matter of saving their lives, there was something eminently comforting about having her old friends by her side. Perhaps it was nostalgia, for when the world wasn't so terrible, and they felt like they could make it better, or maybe just the comfort of having faces from her childhood at her side. Whatever the case, when they'd fought the retreating bandits, they'd immediately fallen into old formations and tactics, more dancing than fighting as they smashed the remaining enemies.

It was honestly one of the best feelings she'd had in a long time. It gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, her fears about Adam's bloodlust were unfounded. That the man she once loved still existed.

Then she looked at the courtyard and that hope plummeted.

"Saber!" she shouted, remembering she shouldn't use Mordred's real name, "What are you doing?"

In the middle of the courtyard, Mordred and Lancer fought, with Berserker nowhere in sight. Sparks flew as the warriors clashed blades, the helmetless swordswoman pressing the assault against the agile spearman, who danced out of the way whenever it seemed she might land a strike.

Blake whirled to Adam. "Adam, order Lancer to stand down. I will talk to Saber and—"

"No."

Blake's eyes widened. Her grip on Gambol Shroud tightened in dread.

Sun glared at Adam. "What do you mean 'no'? You're on our side, right? Stop attacking our friend!"

"First of all, boy," Adam sneered. "I am on Blake's side, not yours. Second, your 'friend' attacked my Servant, even after he assisted her against Lancelot. Third, why would I call him off? This is why they were both summoned."

Blake paled. "Adam, Saber is my friend's Servant. If you stop this, we can work together to win the Grail War."

Adam scoffed. "An alliance? With humans? The same humans who sent you out here as a decoy while they slipped into Mistral from the south? The same ones you perhaps told about my presence? Could they have been the 'others' Raven mentioned, working with her to draw me in?"

"You're talking crazy," Sun declared, bringing up his staff. "Why would the crazy bandit lady mention she was working with others in front of you if she actually was? For that matter, why would Saber attack Berserker if they were allies?"

"Raven has always been opportunistic," Adam growled. "Likely she used them as cannon fodder and then left to slide in the knife when they were weak. Regardless, any alliance in this war would only end the same way. Only one master can claim the grail, and no human will waste time betraying an ally when it is within their grasp."

He lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword. Sun tensed but kept up his weapon. Ilia cracked her whip.

Blake cursed. She and Sun were exhausted from evading Lancelot, while Adam and Ilia were still relatively fresh even after battling bandits. Not to mention that she doubted her chances against Adam at the best of times. She had to keep a fight from breaking out.

The last fountain in the square exploded as another of Mordred's blows missed.

Another fight. She had to keep another fight from breaking out.

She sheathed her weapon and held up her hands in a placating fashion.

"Adam, we're not your enemies" she insisted. "There's more going on than just the Holy Grail War."

"I am well aware of Kotomine and Gilgamesh."

"They're not the only powers at play," Blake informed him. "Please, you told me that Cinder Fall coerced you into helping her at the Fall of Beacon. Well, her master is still alive and working towards the extinction of all life on Remnant, human and faunus."

Adam cocked an eyebrow above his mask. "Really? And who is this mysterious master?"

Blake took a deep breath. "Her name is Salem. She is the creator and master of the Grimm."

…

…

…

"Hahahahahaha!"

Sun took a step away from Adam. Even Ilia looked uneasy.

Blake cringed. She hadn't heard her old friend laugh in a long time and it was far more unsettling than she remembered. Though, given how sadistic he'd gotten since then, perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised.

Adam cackled out a bit more before finally recovering. He wore a disturbingly unhinged grin on his face. "Really? The creator of the Grimm? I didn't know you'd grown a sense of humor in your time away, my darling."

"You have summoned the spirit of a legendary hero to battle for an omnipotent wish granting cup," Blake pointed out with a frown. "Is the creator of the Grimm really such an unbelievable idea?"

Adam paused for a moment, a scowl rising to his lips. "I've heard rumors about the Grail War for years. Whispers, hints at the edge of the world of the truth I had yet to see. The signs had always been there. Gilgamesh was simply the first point of proof. What evidence do you have of your Grimm God? Other than the word of the humans who spun you the tale?"

"Okay, enough with the human hate," Sun shouted. "Humans are fine! They're sure a heck of a lot more reasonable than you!"

An explosion blasted apart a building on the side of the square. A bandit flew out of the smoke, closely followed by Nora, who smashed him into the ground. Ren walked up behind her and she smiled, then caught sight of their group and waved.

Ilia raised an eyebrow. Adam looked at Blake.

She shrugged. She wasn't the best person to defend that.

Adam growled as Nora and Ren dashed over to them. The Valkyrie was strangely out of breath, but her face was still lit up like a birthday cake. Ren glanced at the White Fang members with apprehension.

"Hey guys!" Nora greeted. "We just beat up _sooo_ many bandits! But then they all started running away. Wusses, am I right?" She turned to Ilia, "Am I right, mysterious girl I've never seen before?"

Ilia retreated a step back. "Um, yes?"

Nora's grin widened as she threw an arm around the chameleon girl. "I like you. You're my new friend. What's your name?"

Blake couldn't help her chuckle as Ilia madly struggled to get out of Nora's vice grip hug. Sun grinned gloatingly at Adam.

Ren looked at their present company warily. "What's going on?"

"A battle of heroes," Adam declared, his voice calm but focused.

The entire party turned their gaze to the courtyard, even more broken than after Berserker's charges.

The Servants' duel had turned against Mordred. Where once she had forced a relentless, if somewhat sloppy, offensive, now she was panting hard as she desperately tried to avoid Lancer as he unleashed a barrage of blows faster than the eye could see. The spearman's movements were precise and swift, leaping and twirling around the Saber's heavy sword like a dancer. At the rate the battle was going, she wouldn't last much longer.

Blake hated that she was elated at that. No one should hurt Lancer.

"Mor-Mor," Nora whispered worriedly. She had removed her arms from Ilia, gazing with worry into the courtyard.

Blake wildly shook her head. What was she thinking? What was wrong with her?

She whirled on her oldest friend. "Adam, please. Stop this."

Her mentor shook his head. "These two are knights, Blake. To them, this battle is not only an inevitability, it is a duty. There is no point in forestalling it."

"But if we team up—"

"I will NOT ally with humans!"

All present took a step back in fear. Even Ilia.

Adam drew Wilt from Blush, the crimson blade gleaming even without the blood it had tasted so recently. "This fight is theirs. No one shall interfere."

Nora growled and picked up Magnhild, ready to smash Adam's head in, but Ren held her back. He looked to Blake, who shook her head. Even discounting Nora's fatigue, she had seen Adam take on fully trained huntsmen and walk away the victor. With Ilia with him, they didn't stand a chance.

All they could do was wait and watch the match.

Mordred could totally handle it.

 

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Under normal circumstances, Mordred thought she could totally handle this.

Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances. She was a continent away from her master and the Saber class wasn't exactly known for Independent Action. Only her Mana Rank of B and her Battle Continuation skill had kept her in the fight as long as she had.

She had hoped to overwhelm her opponent quickly, take advantage of the Lancer class' commonly mediocre to average Endurance, and end the fight before _prana_ fatigue could catch up to her but she had vastly underestimated the strain her short duel with Lancelot had forced on her reserves. She had needed to constantly use Prana Burst to keep up with the black knight and now that recklessness was biting her in the ass.

Not to mention, despite what she'd assumed, Lancer was not an easy opponent. His Agility was impressive even for his class, enabling him to dance around her strikes to land glancing blows of his own. Every time she thought she had him, he'd twirl away at the last moment and nearly take her head off with one of his wrapped spears.

She was forced to concede that, diminished as she was, she could not defeat her opponent in honorable combat.

Good thing honor was for suckers!

Mordred charged across the courtyard, her sword held behind her in both hands. Lancer readied his spears, but the Knight of Treachery's eyes were on his feet.

They stood softly on the ground, nimble enough to dodge, but still planted enough to stand stalwart if necessary. But for a powerful two-handed strike, any spearman worth his salt would know they were better off evading than taking the blow on one of their vulnerable shafts. Which meant she just needed to know where he'd run.

The balls of his feet lifted to the left.

Immediately, Mordred flicked her sword downward, crashing through the torn-up cobblestone with a crack of thunder. The storm of rubble was flung into the air, specifically the air to the spearman's left.

Lancer was agile, but even he had to take a crucial moment to course correct in order to avoid the barrage. Mordred used that moment to close the distance and unleashed a rapid close-range assault on her foe. The spearman parried valiantly, but without the range to effectively use his weapons, he was forced to retreat.

Eventually, he was backed up to the edge of the courtyard. However, the man was not a Heroic Spirit for nothing. With each withdrawal, he had slowly edged himself out of Clarent's striking distance. When Mordred went in for her next blow, she found herself slashing only air.

Lancer grinned and twirled around the swordswoman. He pushed Clarent aside with his longer spear and then stabbed at his opponent's unprotected head with his shorter one. When Mordred moved her head at the last moment, he whacked her upside the skull with his shaft, forcing the knight against the same houses she’d used to pin him.

"It seems your trick has backfired," he remarked.

Mordred growled and leapt straight into the air. Lancer, refusing to let her flee, jumped as well.

Exactly as she expected.

In a flash, Clarent had snaked out and obliterated the roof of the house Mordred had been pinned against. The chunks of stone, much larger than the rubble from the courtyard, were smacked by the flat of the knight's sword and sent hurtling towards the spearman.

Unable to dodge in the air, Lancer swatted the rubble aside with his spears, decreasing his momentum.

And leaving him unprepared for the sword thrown his way.

He was barely able to raise the shafts of his weapon to block Clarent from splitting his head in two. Even then, the force behind the throw still sent him plummeting towards the ground.

Mordred smirked. Even without her incredible strength, she was the greatest fighter in Camelot, craftier than Gawain and more adaptable than her father.

" **Prana Burst!** " she roared, rocketing after Lancer. She'd knock the bastard out with one punch and then kill him with his own weapon. He'd be humiliated beyond belief, the righteous ass.

Of course, then said righteous ass proceeded to thrust one of his spears into the ground before he landed. He leveraged himself with it and spun around in midair. When Mordred reached him, both his feet planted themselves firmly in her stomach, sending her sprawling across the cobblestone.

"Mor-Mor!" a voice she vaguely recognized as Nora called out.

The knight slowly collected herself and clambered to her knees. Her breath was coming out in heavy pants. Perhaps that hadn't been the best plan. The attack had cost her Clarent and the last Prana Burst had taken more power than was probably wise. She wasn't sure what her next move would be, but she needed a plan fast.

Lancer descended to his feet before plucking his spear from the ground. He frowned as he stalked towards Mordred.

"Your fighting style, I recognize the influence of the King of Knights," he evaluated. "But the two of you are as different as night and day. Whatever my gripes with your father, I cannot deny that she was beautiful in combat, a warrior in a league of her own. She was graceful, elegant, unyielding. But you… you are reckless, wild, unfocused. You attempt to emulate your father without accounting for your irreconcilable differences."

He twirled his spears, the wrappings upon them glowing a dim purple and unraveling.

"As such, you are left as a mere shadow of his light. A pale imitation."

 _Imitation_.

She _imitated_ no one.

She was like no one else but…

Father.

A homunculus made from father.

…

…

…

Screw plans. This bastard was gonna fry!

Mordred delved into the deepest recesses of her _prana_ stores. She dragged as much of Jaune's across their strained link as she could. Electricity surged through her veins.

Lancer stopped walking towards her, his unveiled spears warily swaying at his side.

" **Red Thunder!** "

Crimson lightning erupted from Mordred, bolts of the unrestrained energy shooting around the plaza.

"Nora!" she heard the pink-eyed boy (Ren, was it?) shout in distress, the girl probably catching a stray blast.

Mordred paid that no mind. She only had eyes for one.

And as Lancer scrambled to block the thunderstorm, she charged.

 

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Archer had mostly abandoned trying to kill Hercules at this point. Really, with his master suffering from several broken ribs and probably a pierced lung, he would be dead in a few minutes anyway, so he didn't really feel like suffering the pain of getting flattened into a pancake again.

So many Grail Wars he'd fought in, he could claim to have only died once from having a temple dropped on him.

He dashed through the forest as fast as he could, using his smaller stature and the obstacles of the trees to keep ahead of his foe. It was fortunate Hercules was insane, otherwise he may have conceived to chop down the impediments with his massive ax-sword instead of charging straight through them, losing just a tiny fraction of speed as a result. Not much, but enough for Archer to keep ahead as long as he wasn't distracted.

_'Archer! Can you hear me?'_

Archer flinched in surprise at hearing his master's telepathic voice. Unfortunately, that was all the time Hercules needed to catch up.

Having no desire to be sent flying _again_ , Archer flooded Kanshou and Bakuya with _prana_. Both blades were traced into their overedge forms, two feet longer with jagged cutting edges. And much, much stronger.

He crossed them in front of himself and met Berserker's slash head-on. He skidded back across the grass, his heels digging trenches in the dirt, but he didn't leave the ground.

Strange, normally Hercules was powerful enough to overcome any defense he threw up. Perhaps the wound from Ruby's silver eyes, which still marred his side like a lone glacier in the middle of the sea, was somehow zapping a bit of his strength?

Speaking of Ruby…

 _"I can't chat right now, master,"_ he protested in his mind. He didn't know how his master had survived the blow she'd suffered, but he was probably going to be enduring much worse soon enough.

 _'Then just listen,'_  she ordered. _'Jaune's got an idea. He has a move that should be able to break through Berserker's weird shield thing and finish him off.'_

Archer cocked an eyebrow at that information. How could the Arc boy have anything powerful enough to… oh.

That could work. He had seen Saber break through Godhand with the same technique. If the boy could pull it off, as he had been so close to the night he started training with Mordred, then they could put Hercules down.

Not for good, of course. Even when Saber had used it, the attack only took away one of the Servant's lives. But it would force him to take more than a moment to regenerate back to life.

And Archer knew exactly what he could do in that extended time.

_"Where do you need me to bring him?"_

Ruby gave him the location, a large clearing nearby. He dashed over as fast as he could, Hercules hot on his tail.

When he arrived, Ruby stood at the other end of the grass, Crescent Rose compacted and strapped to her belt. Jaune stood right behind her, Crocea Mors in broadsword mode. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be concentrating. A golden wind swirled around his blade.

Archer smirked. His guess had been right. And that meant he could get them out of this mess.

Hercules burst out of the tree and roared to the sky. He madly scanned the area to locate his opponent.

"Hey! Big Dummy!" Ruby yelled.

Hercules' gaze was immediately drawn to the girl's shouts. His red pupil narrowed at her silver eyes.

Archer took the chance to run to the side border of the clearing.

Ruby jumped up and down, waving madly. "Here I am! Silver eyes! Come and get'em!"

Hercules roared and charged the red hooded girl.

Ruby burst away to Archer, a cloud of rose petals floating behind her. He closed his eyes and focused his _prana_.

Berserker turned to follow, but in doing so, exposed his side to Jaune.

The boy opened his eyes and thrust out his sword.

" **Hammer of the Wind King: Strike Air!** "

The air around the blade exploded into a merciless typhoon. The cyclone crashed into Hercules, right into the wound left by Ruby's silver eyes. The Berserker's body erupted from that point and was torn in two.

His red eye went dark.

"Yes!" Ruby cheered. "Jaune, it worked! Jaune?"

The boy in question stood completely still for a moment, still extended in his striking stance. Then, his aura shattered, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Jaune!"

Archer didn't spare the boy any thought. Strike Air was a powerful move, requiring a sizable amount of _prana_. Really it was more surprising that he had enough aura to use it at all.

That wasn't important though. The edges of Hercules' corpse were already starting to slide back together. He had to act quickly if he and his master were to escape.

_"I am the bone of my sword…"_

 

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Mordred didn't know what happened.

She had been charging, soaring through the air, her fist pulled back to slug Lancer across the face. The spear-man had been too busy blocking the maelstrom of her Red Thunder to halt her advance.

Then, she had lost all her power. The meager _prana_ that had been trickling through her link with Jaune had suddenly disappeared. The lightning around her evaporated into nothing.

When she could think again, she was hanging in midair, Lancer's longest spear rammed right through her stomach. She was barely able to note that the vibrant red lance seemed to bypass her magic armor and strike her flesh directly.

Barely, because she blacked out a moment later.

 

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Ruby screamed when she saw Jaune collapse.

It had gone so well. He had somehow healed her and restored her aura after Berserker had smacked her and told her that great plan. She wasn't sure about him betting it all on an attack he had never consciously done, but she hadn't had any better ideas, especially against a Servant that could apparently come back from the dead.

Which was seriously not fair! Archer had speared that guy with six swords, and he'd gotten up like nothing even happened. When she'd seen him standing over her Servant, her friend, something within her had flashed back to the Fall. To Kirei and Gilgamesh towering over them all.

Silver light had flooded her vision, but it wasn't as intense as before. She could still see, but everything was tinged white. She obviously didn't go unconscious, but it felt like she was following instinct, her thoughts instantly going to Crescent Rose. When the light faded soon after, her head had hurt like someone had smacked her with a ton of bricks.

Then Berserker had hit her, and she was pretty sure that was worse.

She and Jaune had gone to the clearing though, and Archer had drawn Berserker to them. She'd known she'd have to time her semblance just right in order to get away from the hulking giant and still set him up for Jaune's attack. It had taken more focus than she'd used since the food fight at the start of their second semester, but she'd done it.

And Jaune's attack worked! Berserker was practically cut in half (and she was just a bit disturbed that she was happy about that). There was no way he could come back from that!

Then, she noticed his flesh slowly creeping back together.

_"I am the bone of my sword."_

Ruby whirled around to see Archer standing completely still, his hands held out before him. Sparks of _prana_ danced around his fingertips.

_"Steel is my body and fire is my blood."_

_"I have created over a thousand blades."_

Ruby's eyes widened. She recognized that chant. It had been in her dream of the world of swords. She didn't know what the words meant, but she could feel they were powerful, perhaps the most powerful weapon Archer possessed.

Oh no.

_"Unknown to Death,"_

_"Nor known to Life."_

Archer was going to annihilate Berserker as soon as he regenerated. And Jaune along with him.

Ruby activated her semblance and burst over to her friend. She heard her Servant growl at her actions, but he couldn't afford to break his concentration.

Berserker's body reconnected in a mass of mangled flesh.

_"Have withstood pain to create many weapons, waiting for one's arrival,"_

Ruby stumbled over herself a bit, but she managed to get to Jaune. She hefted her friend over her shoulder, her slight body barely supporting his dangling frame. She turned back to Archer. If he was launching some ultimate attack, the only place she knew would be safe was where she had been when he'd started the incantation.

_"Yet, these hands will never hold anything. Thus, I pray…"_

She activated her semblance once more, her aura straining as she accelerated back to her Servant.

**_"Unlimited Bladeworks!"_ **

That was the last thing the young huntress heard before the world went white.


	31. Two Battles End, One Begins

_He was dead._

_He had been dead before._

_His first death had been a blessing._

_A rest after all his suffering._

_His family's death._

_His new wife's betrayal._

_His labors finally done._

_The Queen of the Gods finally satisfied._

_He had no regrets about being inscribed in the Throne._

_It was a privilege, even with the summons to war._

_And to serve his master, the raven who had walked her road for her child…_

_Well, he could not save his own._

_He would do what he could to help her avoid the same fate._

_His Noble Phantasm activated,_

_He felt his body heal and his mind return from Hades._

_He rose to his feet, his sword at the ready._

_No one was there._

_The clearing was empty._

_He checked his side, rubbing the now flawless muscle._

_It was fortunate the silver wound had healed upon revival._

_He had felt power like his father's when he looked at the girl's eyes._

_He threw out his senses, both natural and metaphysical._

_He searched for the Archer and the masters, all throughout the forest._

_There was not even a trace of them._

_Curious._

_Master must know._

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Diarmuid sighed as he pulled Gae Dearg out of Mordred. The unconscious Saber slumped to her knees and plummeted to the ground.

 _"My thanks, master,"_ he told Adam telepathically, _"I do not know if I could have defended against that last attack if you had not allowed me to use my Noble Phantasm. I apologize for the breakdown in negotiations. I know you wished for an alliance-"_

_'Stop prattling, you fool,' his master growled. ‘Finish her.’_

The Knight of Fianna nodded and raised his crimson spear above the Knight of Treachery. He could not deny he enjoyed their battle. There were few reputations within the Throne of Heroes as infamous as Mordred's. The son of King Arthur who rebelled against his father and destroyed the closest thing to a utopia humanity had ever known. The betrayal of such an act, over the oaths of knighthood, bonds of fellowship, and even ties of blood, was a stain upon the consciousness of the world.

Diarmuid had failed his own oaths in life. He had fled with his lord and friend Fionn's fiancée, Grainne. It was his own fault. He should have been more careful around her, taken better measures to ensure she did not see his mole and fall under his curse. If he had, perhaps she would not have been so seduced as to place a binding geas on him, forcing him to comply with her desire to elope.

He held no ire towards her for it, nor Fionn for eventually exacting his vengeance. He should have been better, done more. His betrayal of his knightly oaths was the worst mistake of his life, one that's regret he had carried with him into the Throne of Heroes. He had desired to participate in the Holy Grail War solely so that he might redeem himself by serving a new master, and ensure their dream came true.

Meanwhile, Mordred relished in her rebellion against the King of Knights. She had killed thousands in a war she started, including those she'd once called brothers, solely for the sake of power.

Diarmuid had enjoyed their battle. It felt good to put such murderous trash in their place.

The Knight of Treachery's armor glowed and then faded away into sapphire dust. She must have been truly low on _prana_ if she could no longer sustain even that.

He pulled back Gae Dearg. Whatever her sins, she was still a knight. And no knight should be left to waste away from something as pitiful as _prana_ starvation. He would give her a warrior's death.

She deserved that much at least.

He thrust at her heart.

"MOR-MOR!"

A giant hammer met his spear, familiar crimson lightning flaring all around.

He hadn't put too much strength into his strike, he hadn't expected any resistance, and the hammer wielder had far more power than anyone short of a Servant had any right to possess. He allowed the blow to force him back and raised his weapons, this time prepared for combat.

A girl with short orange hair, a black jacket, and a pink and white dress stood over Mordred, electricity crackling across her body. Her storming eyes narrowed at him, her gaze as ferocious as a mother bear defending her cub.

"Get away from her!" the girl growled.

Diarmuid raised an eyebrow. He vaguely recognized her from the intelligence photo his master had shown him. That meant she knew how powerful he was. He could feel incredible energy rippling off of her. Perhaps her semblance allowed her to absorb Mordred's stray blast? It was the only explanation for why the girl was exhibiting strength equal to a low-level Servant.

It was impressive to the utmost. Even more so because the girl didn't seem to be at all affected by his curse. With her strength and resolve, she had the potential to become one of the greatest huntresses Remnant had ever known.

He glanced at the back of her hands. There were no Commands Seals.

Excellent. It would be a tragedy to strike down one with the potential for so much good. And Diarmuid had been involved in enough tragedies for a thousand lifetimes.

He raised Gae Dearg.

The girl snarled. "I said get back!"

"You know what I am, child. You cannot defeat me," Diarmuid reminded her. "For your own sake, step aside. Do not let the hero you could be die before she can be born."

"Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Tears trailed down the girl's cheek. "A hero… a hero does what's right. A hero fights to protect their friends, even when the battle is unwinnable. My friend… she did that. She sacrificed herself trying to save all of us, against someone she knew she couldn't beat. Because someone had to fight!"

Diarmuid bowed his head in respect. "I am sorry for your loss. Your friend sounds like the noblest of knights."

"Yeah. Yeah, she was."

The redhead sniffled and rubbed her arm across her face. The Lancer stood still and allowed her.

The girl held her hammer before her once more, her fierceness still present in her eyes, but there was a tinge of respect behind them now.

"That's why I can't abandon Mordred now," she declared. "She's my friend. And friends don't abandon friends. Give me your best shot, Lancer."

"How about, give _us_ your best shot?"

Lady Blake and the others of her group arrived and formed up around the girl.

The orange haired girl's eyes widened. "Guys, what are you—"

"What? Did you think we were going to let you do this alone?" The boy with the monkey tail asked. "Come on, Nora. Like Ren would let us do that."

The boy with pink eyes, Ren, smiled at Nora as he raised his pistol daggers. She grinned back and tightened the grip on her hammer.

Diarmuid frowned. He had no doubt that he could defeat all four of the children with relative ease. But with Nora's strength, it could be difficult to do so without killing them. He would do so if his master commanded him.

But he really did not want to.

 _"Master,"_ he asked telepathically. _"Your orders?"_

He felt his master's rage at the current situation. No doubt his hopes for an alliance crumbling before his eyes was an infuriating experience. And it was all Diarmuid's fault, if he had only contained himself at the sight of the Knight of Treachery, perhaps the encounter could still have been salvaged.

Instead, he had failed again.

Adam drew his sword. "You don't want to do this, Blake."

The dark-haired narrowed her amber eyes. "No, Adam. You don't want to do this."

"Blake, come on. This is pointless," Mistress Ilia pleaded. "They're Servants. The entire reason they're here is to kill each other. Lancer won fair and square so let him finish it."

"Fair and square?" Blake hissed. "Mordred was sent across a continent to protect us from Lancelot. She could barely get any _prana_ from her master. This was nowhere close to a fair fight."

A continent away from her master? That made a great deal of sense to Diarmuid. He had fought the King of Knights, and if he had truly seen the extent of Mordred's skill, then he doubted she would have been slain by such a rank amateur.

But that left the Knight of Fianna uneasy. He had no issue with facing an opponent worn down by his own skill in battle, but to have entered a battle at such an unfair advantage? It was dishonorable to claim victory when the scales had been placed in his favor but outside circumstances.

He lowered his spears.

Master Adam's grip on his sword tightened.

Lady Blake stepped towards him, her weapon raised. "If Mordred is to die, then let her fight with everything she has. If you do that, then we can work together. But if you do this, if you stab her in the back for protecting us, then you'll make this personal. And I swear, to every god that ever was, I will make it my life's mission to ensure that you never claim the Holy Grail."

Adam snarled. Mistress Ilia backed away from him.

Diarmuid frowned. He had seen what happened when his master let emotions get the better of him. Kayneth had been a vicious cautionary tale on that front.

Fortunately, Adam gathered enough will to sheathe his sword. "So be it, my darling. Lancer, we're leaving."

Diarmuid sighed in relief as his master and Mistress Ilia walked out of the abandoned town. He turned to the huntsmen in training and gave a soft smile. "My thanks, Lady Blake. I did not wish to fight you."

The lady blushed. "It was nothing, Lancer." Her eyes widened, and she viciously shook her head, her gaze turning into a scowl. "But that still doesn't excuse your part in this."

"Yeah!" Nora chorused. "You nearly killed Mor-Mor!"

Diarmuid glanced at the Saber's fallen form. Even without her armor, she shivered madly in her slumber. Ren and Sun kneeled next to her, trying to contain the wound left by Gae Dearg.

Even without his final strike, he doubted Mordred had much time left in this world.

Still, he had no intention of being rude to the warriors. "I apologize. I was unaware that Saber was fighting at such a disadvantage. I hope our next duel will be on even ground."

"With any luck," Blake muttered, glancing at Mordred's broken form.

"Yeah! She's going to destroy you!" Nora shouted, keeping her focus on him.

Diarmuid chuckled at their dichotomy. He turned to take his leave when he remembered exactly who he was leaving these children with.

"Lady Blake, Lady Nora, be wary of your Saber," he warned. "She is not called the Knight of Treachery for no reason."

Blake's face filled with worry at his words, but Nora just scoffed. "Who cares what she's called? She's our friend."

Diarmuid frowned, memories of one he had thought was his friend flooding his mind. Memories of another knight who'd promised him a fair duel, and who he'd thought his friend. Memories of a knight that did nothing as he died on his own spear.

"For your sake, I hope you correct. Farewell."

He dissipated into spirit form.

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Qrow leaped to the side to avoid the iceberg sent flying at him. It crushed several trees behind him.

He knew that power. But it shouldn't have been possible. He'd heard rumors about the Spring Maiden having fallen in with the tribe, but this…

"How could you do this?" he snarled. "She went to you for help."

Raven narrowed her glowing eyes. "I did everything I could for her. She was too weak. What I did was mercy."

"Mercy?"

Qrow had always known Raven was ruthless. He had been once too. But their time at Beacon, with Summer and Tai, had reined them both in, taught them there was strength in kindness. It was why they decided to actually become huntsmen instead of going back home to kill them for the tribe.

Even after she'd left, and Summer died, Qrow had still been able to track her down when he needed her. She'd given him information when they could use it and in return, he'd attempted to convince her to return to Tai and Yang. The only reason he hadn't told Oz about his suspicions that she had the Spring Maiden was because he'd trusted that the girl was safe.

And the price for his naivete had been her life.

He snarled and leapt at the woman who had once been his sister.

Unfortunately, however skilled he was, a maiden was a maiden.

Raven sheathed her sword and raised her hand. A typhoon erupted from her palm and slammed into Qrow, sending him flying into a tree trunk.

"Really, brother? A frontal assault? On a maiden? I thought you were smarter than that."

Qrow snarled as he staggered to his feet. "Don't call me brother. We're not family."

Raven froze for a moment, a look of hurt flashing in her eyes. Then, they narrowed in resigned irritation. "Were we ever?"

Qrow recalled their childhood, when she'd defend his presence in the tribe to their leaders, arguing that their nascent talent made up for the downsides of his semblance. When they'd reasoned that they could just kill him and keep her, she'd threatened to put her sword through her own gut if they tried.

"I thought so. Once."

Raven snorted. "Well then, I'm sorry I've disappointed you."

"As am I!" a new voice rang out.

A glowing green blur shot out from the forest and smashed Raven's face with the pommel of a golden sword. The bandit leader was sent sprawling across the grass, her aura shattered.

Qrow whirled around to his savior and saw… a farm boy?

Really? His sister had maiden powers and he was saved by some kid wearing the most stereotypical farmer gear ever? For gods' sake, the kid was shorter than even Ruby.

But… there was something strangely familiar about his emerald eyes. And there were slowly fading lines of green light across his arms. Lines that looked just like magic circuits.

The boy glared at Raven, who trudged to her feet. "I'm very disappointed in you, Raven. Even though we disagreed, I had faith you would not sink this low."

Raven massaged her jaw where the boy had struck. She stared at the boy in utter confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

The boy gave a confident smirk. He turned to Qrow. "I was going to have Oscar do this, but it seems time is short. As such, I'll need my cane back."

Qrow's eyes widened. It wasn't the code phrase exactly, but given the situation, a little improvisation wasn't too out of the ordinary for him.

He smirked and whipped out a particular compressed staff from his belt. He tossed it to the apparent boy. "Good to have you back, Oz."

The boy smiled back and caught the artifact. With a flourish, he unfurled the cane into its full glory. He switched it into his right hand and held the magnificent sword in his left.

He turned back to Raven and his gaze hardened. "Now then Raven, I don't know what this is about, but I would remind that I am capable of fighting on par with a full-strength maiden with just my cane. With your brother and this sword, we can defeat you. And without your aura, I doubt Lancelot will be of much aid to you."

Raven grinned at Ozpin's words and chuckled. "Aura? Come now, who still powers Servants with aura, _professor_."

She made to draw her sword, likely to summon Lancelot with a portal, when a thunderous roar broke through the air.

Her new Berserker landed in a massive crater to her side.

Ozpin's face lit up in surprise and he backed away.

Qrow gulped. He was pretty sure Oz's speech was mostly posturing to try to get Raven to retreat, but with the Servant there, all parties knew who had the advantage.

Strangely, Raven's eyes widened at her Servant's arrival. "What are you doing here? I ordered you to take care of the others. What happened to them?"

Berserker's single red eye focused solely on his master, as if fighting through a haze. His mouth opened, each word seeming to take a Goliath's worth of effort to form.

_"Gone."_

Raven raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, gone? Did you kill them? I told you not to kill the Rose girl!"

Berserker was silent for a moment, his mouth slowly moving.

_"No."_

"Then where are they? Can't you sense the Servant's—"

Raven abruptly stopped, her eyes widening as if she was just punched in the gut. Her lips mouthed a word, but no air came out to create speech.

Strange, Qrow could have sworn she would have said 'Tai'.

Raven slashed the air beside her and created a portal.

She looked back at him. "Another time, brother. _Ozpin_."

She leapt into the portal and Berserker followed after.

Qrow collapsed to the ground. That had not been a fun fight.

Ozpin ran over and gave him a boost up. "Easy, Qrow. You took a heavy hit."

The huntsman grinned. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his flask. "Don't know if you realize this Oz, but we just got out of a fight we had no right to get out of. Besides, doesn't look like you should be giving me orders anymore, eh, pipsqueak?"

Ozpin sighed. "Good to see recent events haven't dulled your humor, old friend."

Qrow shrugged and took a swig of his whiskey.

Ozpin stared at where Berserker had disappeared from. "So, it really has begun again. If Raven has two Berserkers, that makes her an even more formidable adversary than ever."

"Eh," Qrow swallowed. "She's still as much a bitch as ever."

"Qrow, I have a fourteen-year-old in my mind right now. Please, watch your language."

"Sorry. How'd you find us anyway? Not that I'm not grateful for the rescue, but we're not exactly close to civilization."

Ozpin smiled warmly. He gestured to his golden sword. "I was using this to track down Arturia's sheath. This was its last location before it suddenly appeared on the other side of the continent. I assumed something was up, so I came here anyway. I hope to return it to Arturia as soon as possible. She will need it for what is coming. Speaking of which, do you know where she is?"

Qrow lowered his flask, a solemn frown on his face.

"We have a lot to talk about."

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The sky was amber and filled with smoke. Giant gears the size of mountains hung defunct and motionless in the air, suspended by some unseen pulleys.

But far more important were the swords.

So.

Many.

_Beautiful._

Swords.

Ruby pinched herself.

Nope.

She pinched herself again.

Nope. It was still there.

It was real.

This was the greatest day of her life.

"EEEEEE!"

The red reaper dashed about the endless field of swords, inspecting each magnificent work of art in turn. She'd sometimes get part way through analyzing one beautiful blade before getting distracted by some other absolutely stunning saber right next to her. She couldn't very well ignore either one, so she'd try to keep a silver eye on each and catalog every single wonderous feature.

"Ooooh! This one has three interchangeable blades stored in the pommel! Aaaah! This one is tempered so that the metal itself is red! I had to use paint for Crescent Rose! Isn't this amazing, Jaune? Jaune?"

Jaune was currently lying unconscious on the ground next to her.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Ruby rushed over and kneeled to check on her friend. His pulse was still strong. It seemed that whatever his wind attack did had used up all his remaining aura at once. His body wasn’t prepared for that kind of strain and collapsed. He should be fine once his aura returned in a minute or two.

The red-cloaked girl smiled. She could still feel the supercharge he’d given to her aura. The fact that he still had enough left for that ultimate attack was truly a testament to his massive reserves.

She gazed around at their magnificent surroundings. It was really a shame that he wasn’t awake to see them. Jaune wasn’t as big a weapons nerd as she was (no one was really) but she didn’t think anyone could deny the majesty of this place.

"Having fun?"

Ruby turned her head to the voice. Archer stood atop the only elevated ground in sight, a massive hill rising towards the sunset. He faced away from his master.

"Are you kidding me? This is the most awesomest place ever!" Ruby proclaimed, standing up. "Why didn't you tell me you could bring us here? Wait. Is this your Noble Phantasm? Your Noble Phantasm is taking people to this amazing place?!"

"No."

Ruby raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh. But, then, how are we here?"

"We are here because I brought us here."

"But, you just said—"

"I said it was not my Noble Phantasm," Archer clarified. "Because I do not have a Noble Phantasm. Only a true Heroic Spirit may possess one of those and I am but a mere faker, allowed this ruse by my status as a Counter Guardian."

"Oh." Ruby sheepishly shuffled on her feet. "I don't know what that is."

"A Counter Guardian is a person who has sold their life to the world. When a threat emerges that could cause the extinction of all humanity, The Beast of Humanity, Alaya, unleashes its guardians to annihilate the offending party. As well as anything, or anyone, in their path."

"Anyone…" Ruby's eyes widened in horror. She wasn't sure what this Beast of Humanity was, but she could connect the dots of the rest. "Why would anyone want to do that? Why would you make that deal?"

Archer turned to face her, his silver eyes hard like steel, his glare a stab to her heart. "For the same reason I did anything. I wanted to save people."

Ruby gulped and took a step back. Her Servant's gaze was like when they'd found the photo of her mother and Kiritsugu, cold, focused, and wrathful. Even with Berserker nowhere in sight, she couldn't help but feel that she was still in danger.

"Now, master, it's my turn for a question," Archer declared. "Why did you save Jaune Arc?"

"Huh?" Ruby stuttered. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I? He's my friend."

"In this war, he is your rival. A useful rival perhaps, but in the end still an adversary. He provided us with the opening to escape but was left vulnerable due to his own miscalculations. You then compromised your own safety to rescue him."

"It worked, didn't it!"

"And if it hadn't?" Archer demanded. "If you hadn't been able to return to the radius of my spell in time, or worse forced me to widen the range to include Berserker? I promise you, this world may be powerful, but he would have killed us here all the same. And if you died, your goal would die. You would not get the Holy Grail and the Grimm would continue to ravage this world."

"So, what? I was supposed to just leave him to die?"

"You cannot save anyone without killing someone else."

"And the someone else is just whoever isn't convenient at the moment?" Ruby challenged. "Jaune just killed a Servant on his own. A Servant who was kicking your butt five seconds ago. We stand a way bigger chance of beating the other teams and stopping Salem and Gilgamesh with him than without him."

"And we stand no chance if you die trying to save him from his own folly," Archer countered. "He sent Mordred away, leaving us vulnerable. He misjudged his aura reserves and left himself wide open to Hercules' counter-attack."

Hercules? Who the heck was Hercules? Was that Berserker's name? How did Archer know it?

"You told me you wanted the Holy Grail" he reminded her. "You agreed that you would put all your effort and all your drive into securing that singular goal, for the sake of the world. Was that a lie?"

"I won't kill my friend!" Ruby roared. "I won't use people and then throw them away when I'm done. That's what Kirei does. That's what Cinder did. I won't become a monster. I won't cross that line."

"Then you will fail." Archer decried.

"I won't."

"How?"

"I just won't! I don't know how yet," Ruby confessed. "But there has to be another way, a way we haven't found yet. A good way."

Archer raised an eyebrow. "A way your mother would have used?"

Ruby looked away from him. She caught her reflection in one of the countless swords.

She saw her face, so like her mother's. Her silver eyes, desperate for hope.

Her mother couldn't save everyone. Neither could she.

But she still wanted to save people, as many as she could. And even if she couldn't give them preference, she couldn't give up on her friends just for the possibility of ending the Grimm. Not when such a thing was so far away and certainly not with a knife in the back.

She stared back to Archer. "A way she would have looked for."

The Servant took a deep breath. His hands curled into fists at his sides. He closed his eyes.

When he reopened them, the wrath was gone.

Replaced with a look of matter of fact resignation.

Ruby found it even more disturbing.

"There is always a fire at the end of the Fourth War. Kiritsugu Emiya, broken by his failure, wanders into the flames and desperately tries to save someone, anyone, from the catastrophe he unleashed" Archer detailed, his voice solemn as if speaking holy writ. "For a time, all seemed lost. The horror had consumed all in its path. But he did not give up, for to admit defeat would be to consign to his own damnation. At last, he found a single child and rescued them from the blaze."

"Mom," Ruby whispered reverently.

"No. There is always a fire. Kiritsugu always searches. He always finds a child. But that child is not always the same."

Ruby took a step back, Crescent Rose sliding into her hands. "What do you mean—"

"There are as many worlds, as many timelines, as there are choices to be made," Archer explained. "Each is distinct from all others. Sometimes by something as minute as when a strand of hair is plucked. Others by more drastic matters. In this timeline, Kiritsugu Emiya pulled your mother from the fire. But in many others, it was a boy with red hair."

His fists tightened, the knuckles turning white.

"A boy named _Shirou Emiya_."

Ruby gulped. Her trigger finger itched to unfurl her scythe, but she held back. Archer wouldn't hurt her. He was her friend, her Servant. And she couldn't deny she wanted to know more about this Shirou Emiya.

The boy with red hair. The boy with eyes of wonder.

"What happened to him?"

"Kiritsugu adopted him and raised him as his son. Even taught him a pittance of magecraft before he passed. Along with his ideals, his dream to be a hero of justice," Archer revealed. "The boy grew up, and through sheer luck, happened upon the Holy Grail War, accidentally summoning the very same Saber Servant as his father before him."

Ruby's eyes widened. So, the boy had been Arturia's master! Just not for a war in her… timeline? Wow, that was weird even by her recent standards.

"The boy went on to win the war," Archer continued. "The entire time desperately trying to save as many people as he could. Even after that, he took the skills he'd gained into the world and embarked on a crusade to protect the happiness of the entire world."

A broad grin lit up Ruby's face, lightening her trigger finger just a bit. She had been right. This Shirou really was amazing! A perfect hero!

She wished she could meet him.

"In the end, the boy sought to protect others even past his own lifespan. And so, when Alaya approached him, he foolishly accepted a contract."

Ruby's mind screeched to a halt. Shirou became a Counter Guardian? But that meant he was just like…

"No."

Archer’s eyes held no wonder. Only resolve to do what needed to be done.

"The boy was betrayed by those he sought to protect, and yet died with no regrets. But when he began his service to the world, he found that his mission was one of pure extermination."

The gears in the sky groaned. Bolts of _prana_ sparked in the air around Archer.

"He killed those he sought to protect. Again and again, he slaughtered those his heart burned to save. And he was left with only despair."

"No," Ruby gasped. "No, it can't be."

"I am the fulfillment of Kiritsugu Emiya's dream. I am the end of the path of heroism," Archer declared. "I am the Heroic Spirit EMIYA! And now, Ruby Rose, for the sake of all…"

The sparks of _prana_ around him transformed into two dozen magnificent swords.

"Drown in your ideals and die!"

 


	32. The Ideals of Emiya

The swarm of nameless blades flew at Ruby. The red hooded girl barely had time to unfold her scythe before the swords crashed into her. A cloud of dust erupted around her.

Archer sighed. He could still feel the huntress through their bond as master and Servant. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

She wasn't him. Despite the unnerving parallels between them, he knew Ruby Rose was not him. Her ability to accept that she would never save everyone was proof enough of that. She was an idealistic and foolish little girl, but that was all she was.

She was a little girl. A girl who laughed, who played, who loved.

Who lived.

A sword did not live.

A sword existed, ready to be wielded whenever it was needed.

It was what he was. He could not change it. He had cast aside all he was to survive the fire, only to be left dying until he filled himself with the dream of the man who saved him. Without the ideals of Kiritsugu Emiya, he was but a superfluous existence, not worth the blood in his veins.

He existed to save others.

Ruby Rose wanted to save others.

She would fail.

She had the ideals of Kiritsugu, even if they were not obtained directly.

When catastrophe crushed her, she would turn to them to survive the madness she was left in. And if there was one thing he knew about the Holy Grail War, it was that it was never without tragedy.

She would turn to her dream to carry her through, and in time, she could become him.

After all, he had been a boy before the flames.

Perhaps, at least. He couldn't recall.

The dust cloud cleared. Ruby still stood, Crescent Rose's blade lying next to a pile of shattered swords. The girl panted.

Archer closed his fist. Another swarm of nameless swords appeared around him.

He had no stake in this world. His past self was not here, and he could not change his fate, even with the Holy Grail.

But even then, he would never allow another to follow his path.

The swords flew.

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Ruby didn't have time to think. She reacted on instinct when she'd brought Crescent Rose up to block the hail of swords, and her muscles had burned with the effort. The blades she blocked with her scythe struck with the force of a rocket.

She coughed as the deflected barrage kicked up a storm of dust. Her mind whirled with revelations.

The boy with red hair was Shirou Emiya.

Shirou Emiya was her mom's alternate timeline counterpart.

Archer was Shirou Emiya.

Archer was trying to kill her!

The dust cloud cleared, and her eyes went wide. Archer glared down at her from the hill and another wall of swords formed around him.

Ruby saw them coming before they flew  **as**  she activated her semblance and blasted over one of the many ridges of the world. The rose petals left behind were shredded by the barrage of blades.

The huntress ducked behind her limited cover as best she could, part of her mind flashing back to the last moments of her and Jaune's duel with Arturia. Only then, she hadn't known that they had literally  _no chance_  against their opponent.

Archer was weaker than Arturia by a longshot, but he was still a Servant. He didn't have to keep throwing swords at her if he didn't feel like it. He could run up to her and just tear her apart with brute force.

She peeked out over the dirt. Archer was walking down the hill at a leisurely pace.

Straight towards Jaune.

Ruby immediately jumped out of hiding and waved her hands wildly. "Archer! Don't hurt him!"

The Servant smirked and immediately turned towards her. "Not an issue, master. He is of no interest to me."

Another wall of blades materialized around him.

Ruby raised Crescent Rose. "Why are you doing this?"

"Like I said, master, it is for your own good."

"How is _killing_ me for my own good? People _die_ when they are killed!"

Archer's smirk vanished. The barrage of swords blasted towards her like the fangs of an angry serpent.

Ruby activated her semblance once more and rushed along the hill, making sure to stay within Archer's sight at all times. If she tried to run, he'd go after Jaune and she refused to let that happen.

After escaping the onslaught of blades, she planted her scythe in the ground and cocked her sniper rifle.

Archer raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you going to try to use an Origin Round on me? If so, I advise you to aim for the Reality Marble itself. The more potent the mystery they strike, the more damage they cause, and there is little greater than my inner world."

Ruby's eyes widened. "What? No. I would never use them on—"

Archer rushed forward as she spoke, his white and black swords flashing into his hands. Ruby fired a dozen rounds at him as he charged, but he merely swatted the bullets aside with his blades.

As he closed, she shifted the barrel downward and fired. The recoil sent her shooting through the air just as Archer's swords swiped where she just was.

Ruby flipped through the sky, her mind racing for a strategy. He was stronger than her, could make swords shoot out of the air and without her semblance, he was most definitely faster than her (and even then, he would probably have her if Jaune hadn't supercharged it). She couldn't hide, and, in this world, she didn't think she could run away. And since she was pretty sure Archer could survive after he broke her aura long enough to kill her, that didn't leave her with many options.

She didn't want to use her silver eyes. Archer was her friend, she didn't want him dead, and even if she did, she had no idea how to get them to work.

A spark of green flashed in the corner of Ruby's eye.

She twisted Crescent Rose around to guard her face as a blade formed in midair shot towards her. The sword struck the scythe, and the force behind the blow sent Ruby plummeting back to the ground.

Her aura dulled the impact and she skidded across the dirt. Eventually, she managed to flip back to her feet, panting heavily.

Archer glared at her. "You cannot run from me here. This world is my soul made into reality, my very being turned into my ultimate magecraft."

Ruby glanced around at the massive smoking gears in the sky, recalling her first dream with Archer on the hill, screaming in agony. "This place… This is Unlimited Bladeworks? It's a world that has infinite swords?"

"Not exactly." Archer banished his swords from his hands. "My soul is a sword, waiting to be wielded in the service of others. But there is no one blade that can solve all the world's sins. This is the next best thing, a world that can make infinite swords, to fight for the world forever. Any weapon I see instantly has a copy created here, ready and waiting to be called forth."

 _Prana_ sparked through his hands and a very familiar polearm materialized.

Ruby gaped, her awe fusing with terror at the sight of her baby in the hands of the man currently trying to kill her.

Archer raised his Crescent Rose and pointed it at her. "This is the truth of your path. You will become like the weapons you so love. An instrument of destruction devoid of love and destined to destroy all in your quest to save them."

"No…No, you're wrong!"

Ruby charged, her scythe swinging like the claws of a feral cat.

"You're wrong!"

_Penny, scattered like scrap, the robot girl with so much life._

"You're wrong!"

_Pyrrha, the caring champion, splattered and broken against the ground._

"YOU"RE WRONG!"

_Summer Rose hugging her father on the happiest day of her life, unaware of the tragedy ahead of her._

" **I AM NOT YOU!** ”

_Kiritsugu Emiya, smiling so brightly amidst the flames, relieved to have found anyone he hadn't killed._

"AAARRGGGHHH!"

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Archer braced himself as Ruby's scythe came crashing down against his polearm again and again. The red hooded reaper's fury meeting his superior strength blow for blow.

He found himself pushed back slightly, her frankly exceptional skill forcing him to make motion costly movements to parry with his own polearm. Normally, he wouldn't have this much trouble, but whatever prevented him from tracing Ruby's experience from Crescent Rose was still in effect and proving itself quite troublesome. He had little to no practice with scythes and so was forced to call upon the skills he'd traced from various spears. Similar, but not exact.

Still, while his movements were clunky, he was still a Servant, and as such, the girl's strikes were hardly unstoppable. He had to take a few steps back to position himself correctly, but he was nowhere close to retreating. Eventually, he caught her in a blade lock, their faces barely a foot from each other.

Ruby snarled at him, the fury on her face seeming quite alien, but all so revealing.

He scowled. "You saw my memories, correct? That means you saw the hell."

He pushed her off with his superior strength.

Ruby used the force to launch herself into the air, flipping her scythe around and firing several rounds. The recoil pushed her higher into the sky.

"You saw the hell," Archer shouted after, lazily batting aside the girl's assault. "You saw the hell, and the next, and the next."

 _Prana_ sparked, and his bow formed in his left hand. His projection of Crescent Rose changed, growing sleeker, slimmer, and shorter. He nocked it onto his bowstring like an arrow.

"You saw the hell that led to all the others."

He poured _prana_ into his Crescent Rose. The arrow glowed a violent crimson.

He let it fly.

It streaked through the air like a thunderbolt, hurdling towards Ruby.

The red hooded girl activated her semblance and broke into three streams of roses, swarming around the projectile before reforming, her sniper rifle aimed at Archer.

Then the arrow exploded from _prana_ overload and the shockwave sent her crashing to the ground.

Archer stalked forward, picking up the original Crescent Rose from where it had fallen a few feet from Ruby and gave it a few practice swings.

Ruby struggled to her feet, fire still burning in her silver eyes. Her knees bent to charge him.

Two nameless blades materialized above her. They fell from the air and skewered the end of her crimson cloak into the dirt. When she tried to dash forward, the stuck fabric snapped her right back.

He had her. She was unarmed and trapped. He could kill her at his leisure.

But he needed to break her spirit. If he killed her now, when she was still so close to the fool he once was, then perhaps Alaya would make her an offer upon her passing. He hadn't felt his master since coming to Remnant, but he wouldn't put it past her to hide from him. Primordial beings were rarely predictable.

As Ruby was now, she would accept the offer.

He could not allow that.

"Did you see his smile?" he asked her as she struggled with her cloak. "Did you see the relief upon Kiritsugu's face at having been able to save someone from the flames? I imagine it was the same look your mother saw when he rescued her."

"Shut up!" Ruby shouted, wet tears forming in her eyes. "You don't know anything about my mom!"

Archer scowled. "I know only what you told me. She was devoted to making sure that everyone got a happy ending. A true hero of justice. If she was anything like me, then she got that dream from him. Rebuilt herself around it after losing everything in the flames. She could not have stopped trying to save people even if she wanted to. She left you so that she could try to save someone else and paid the price for her folly."

"I said shut up!"

Ruby snatched up one of the nameless blades pinning her down and slashed off the bottom half her cloak. She charged madly at Archer, swinging her sword with wild abandon. But where she'd had hard-earned skill to balance her rampage with her scythe, now she had only childish desperation. Archer barely had to put any effort into parring her strikes with Crescent Rose.

"Even if you never met Kiritsugu, your mother passed down his ideals to you," he explained as sparks flew from their blades' clash. "They have taken root within your soul and fester like a virus. For now, you can ignore it. You move forward, seeking to grow from your struggles. But when your weakness finally conquers you, when you turn to his ideals to repair your broken self, when you go through hell—"

"I've already been through hell!"

Ruby's sword shattered against Crescent Rose, the cheaply made projections disappearing into sparks of _prana_.

The girl with half a red hood fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

Archer took a step back, surprised and confused at his master's outburst.

"You think I don't know?" Ruby cried. "You think I don't know how weak I am? How useless? I charge in to stop a Deathstalker, Weiss has to save me. I try to stop Cinder from breaking into the CCT, she plants a virus. I stop that virus, I'm powerless to save Pyrrha, Arturia, and Penny. I try to help you against Berserker, I nearly get killed. Everything I try to do to help people either fails or makes things worse!"

The girl's hands desperately pawed at the ground, her fingers trying to bury the tears that fell into the dirt.

"Kirei nearly killed Yang to hurt me. Raven went after Blake and the others to get at me. Everyone I care about is in danger because of me, and I don't know what to do. If I do nothing they get hurt. But if I try to help, I make things worse. I can't protect them. I can't save them. All I can do is hurt people. I don't know what to do."

Her head fell to the ground, her tears breaking into sobs of anguish.

For the first time since Archer had met her, Ruby Rose looked like the lost sixteen-year-old girl she was.

"I just want everyone to be safe."

"A world where no one has to cry," EMIYA muttered.

Ruby raised her head, her face the color of her ruined cloak. "What?"

Archer brought the blade of Crescent Rose to her throat. His eyes showed the sympathy of his memories.

He had admiration for the girl. She had waded in her torment without succumbing for quite a while, so close to the edge but never fully falling in. She was different from who he had been.

But he didn't know why. And if he didn't know why, he didn't know how to make sure she stayed that way.

Other than the method he had planned for Shirou Emiya.

Her spirit was surely broken. But he found himself wavering.

He needed to know.

"Answer me this, master," he spoke. "If Alaya appeared before you right now, and offered you the power to stop Kirei, Gilgamesh, and this Salem woman right now, in exchange for your eternal service as a Counter Guardian, what would you do?"

Ruby blinked, her eyes far away for a moment. She glanced to Crescent Rose, her weapon, at her throat.

She looked him in the eye, silver to silver.

Broken to Broken.

"Yes. I would say yes."

Archer sighed, his eyes shut for a brief moment. He hated being right.

"Then this is the best for everyone," he assured her.

Ruby nodded and closed her eyes. She tried very hard to look solemn, but a quiver sneaked through her lips.

Archer pulled back Crescent Rose and planted it in the ground. He was not so cruel as to execute the girl with her own beloved weapon.

He conjured Kanshou in his hand, the black blade glimmering under the auburn sky, the hexagonal patterns as red as the blood it would soon reap.

He thrust for the girl's heart.

"NO!"

* * *

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Ruby closed her eyes and waited for Archer to end her. It was for the best.

She'd wanted to be close to her mother, to be like the hero she was.

She wanted to live her entire life on the battlefield, destroying the Grimm with a smile on her face. People kept telling her she couldn't do it forever, Ozpin had literally spelled it out to her the night of the dance. But even then, she hadn't listened and had charged off at the first sign of trouble at the CCT.

She thought that if she just kept going, just kept fighting, she would be able to save someone.

But she was wrong. Archer had lived his whole life and beyond on the battlefield and it got him nowhere. Not only could she not save everyone, she couldn't save anyone. And all her efforts to do otherwise were just getting everyone around her killed.

She couldn't help anyone, and she didn't know how to stop before she became him.

That meant there was only one thing to do.

Maybe she'd see Pyrrha in heaven.

…

Would she even go to heaven?

"NO!"

Ruby raised an eyebrow at the shout and then found herself being tackled to the ground. Her eyes widened as she tumbled across the dirt. When she was able to focus, her jaw dropped. "Jaune? What are you doing?"

Her first friend rose from where he'd tackled her, his blue eyes wide in concern. "What the hell are you thinking, Ruby?"

"She's doing the right thing. The best thing for everyone," Archer proclaimed.

Jaune whirled on him, his broadsword pointed viciously at the Servant. "You! Stay back! I'm not going to let you hurt her!"

Archer rolled his eyes. "You've barely recovered enough aura to stand. Do you really think you can stop me?"

"I said stay back!"

"Jaune, please," Ruby grabbed a hold of his arm, trying to pull down his sword. "This is for the best. I can't help anyone. If I stay, all I'll end up doing is getting everyone hurt."

"I heard that part," Jaune informed her. "And it's bullshit."

"Jaune, look at the facts," Ruby pleaded, her eyes wet once again. "Every time I try to help anyone I just end up getting them killed. I trusted Kirei and Emerald. I cut the chains keeping Pyrrha on the tower. Your mom saved me instead of her and then I killed her!"

"That is not your fault!" Jaune roared. "What happened at Beacon was Cinder, and Kirei, and Gilgamesh, not you." The blond knight paused for a moment, as if coming to a realization himself. "You did everything you could with the information you had. You had no way of knowing what we were up against."

"And since I found out? I summoned a Servant and dragged you and the others into this mess! I left Blake and the others vulnerable—"

"Blake and the others made their choices. I made my choice. We knew what we were getting into. If anything, this was my fault for sending Mordred away instead of trusting them to take care of themselves."

"Against a Servant? How could they have 'taken care of themselves' against a Heroic Spirit?"

"They would have found a way. After all, they learned from the best."

"Who?"

"You."

Ruby blinked in shock.

"You think that your determination is a weakness. I say it's your greatest strength," Jaune declared. "You're not some idiot charging towards the impossible. You know what you're up against, you know what you've lost, and you look for a way to win anyway. You keep trying anyway and that's not a fault. It's inspiring. It's what makes you Ruby Rose."

Ruby looked to the ground. "But what if everyone dies because of my choices?"

"We're huntsmen. Dying is something we have to live with," Jaune pointed out. "And you give us the courage to face it, to follow you. You're the leader of Team RWBY, and when it comes back together, and it will, the others are going to need you. Because, news flash Crater Face, you're good at this. You just need someone to remind you every now and again."

Half of Ruby's mouth tried to smile. Jaune's words resonated within her, a wish she wanted to believe. Her actions had failed to save her friends, but what would doing nothing have helped?

"If you're quite done, boy, step aside," Archer demanded.

Jaune scowled. His sword rose, ready and waiting. "If you want her, you'll have to go through me."

Archer's bow materialized in his hands. "You say that like it will be a problem."

Ruby's eyes widened. She rushed in front of Jaune. "Archer, no. Maybe me, but not him. You can't hurt my friends."

A spiraling sword appeared in the Servant's opposite hand.

"That is where you're wrong, master. There are few this weapon cannot hurt," Archer stated. "At this range, it will kill us all."

"Ruby, run!" Jaune shouted.

Archer placed the sword on his bowstring. Its form crackled with red energy as it twisted into an arrow.

"No," Ruby muttered. "NO! I won't let you!"

It was at that moment when she realized the truth of her doubts. There were times when it was best to stand by and do nothing, when a situation shouldn't be aggravated or intruded upon.

None of those times were when a friend was about to die without help.

Ruby raised her right hand. Archer's eyes widened. "Calad—"

"By the power of my Command Seal, EMIYA, you will not hurt my friends!"

Archer's bow and arrow evaporated. Then, Unlimited Bladeworks flashed white.

* * *

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Nora kneeled over the unconscious Mordred, her blood soaking down into Yang's brown jacket. Ren held his fingers over the Servant's wrist while Sun applied as much pressure as he could to her wound. Specks of blue magic slowly evaporated off of her body.

"Renny," she pleaded. "Talk to me."

Her best friend shook his head. "This is bad."

"Shouldn't she be healing? She has superpowers!"

"Her powers are fueled by Jaune's aura," Blake pointed out. "She's already so far away from him. If he's been hurt, or if the distance increases, she won't have enough energy to even stay in the world."

"No!" Nora declared. She might have been exhausted after the rush from her friend's lightning, but she wasn't about to let her die. "There's got to be something we can do! There has to be—"

Mordred suddenly coughed wildly. Her eyes fluttered open, just a bit. "Hey, keep it down, will you? What's a knight got to do to get some sleep around here."

"Mor-Mor!" Nora squeezed her friend in a massive hug.

The Servant choked madly.

"Nora, she needs air!"

* * *

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Jaune shielded his eyes as the light died down. When he could see again, they were back in the forest clearing from before, Berserker nowhere in sight and the shattered moon shining in the sky. After the titanic gears he'd woken up to, it was a welcome sight.

He hadn't known where he was when he woke up. He knew he underestimated how much power Strike Air would take, but even if Berserker had killed him, he didn't understand how that got him to a barren world filled with thousands of swords.

He'd struggled to his feet when he'd heard the sounds of fighting. His aura had barely recovered at all when he'd spotted Archer standing over Ruby with her own weapon. She was pinned to the ground by her cloak. He tried to get over to them while they'd fought, and he'd been stunned when he'd heard Ruby's confession.

He had been so consumed with his own guilt after what happened at the Fall of Beacon that he hadn't realized his friend was wallowing in self-loathing. He hadn't realized how perky Ruby was slowly becoming more desperate. Desperate enough to listen to her insane Servant who said the best thing she could do was commit suicide.

He'd forced himself to run and when Archer had swung at her head, he'd tackled her out of the way.

Now, Ruby lowered her arm as the red glow of her first Command Seal faded.

Jaune smiled. She was safe.

Archer crossed his arms across his chest and sighed. "Did you just _now_ remember you could do that?"

Ruby scowled. "A Servant is a friend, not a tool. I don't like forcing my friends to do anything."

Archer raised an eyebrow, his disbelief echoed on Jaune's own face. "I tried to _kill_ you."

"But you didn't."

"Because you used the Command Seal to stop me!"

Ruby smirked and shook her head. "My Command Seal kept you from harming my friends. That's where I draw the line."

"But you're willing to die yourself?" The black short sword appeared in Archer's hand. "Does that mean you wouldlike me to continue?"

Jaune raised Crocea Mors, but Ruby pushed his hands down.

"No," she declared. "If I die because I can't find the will to keep trying, then I'm just dishonoring the friends who've sacrificed everything to get me this far. I'm giving up on seeing all the beautiful things in the world they fought for. Maybe I won't always be able to save anyone, maybe I'll sometimes make things worse, but if I do nothing then they definitely won't get better. And if nothing else, I'm not you. I'm not Kiritsugu. I'm not Summer Rose. I'm Ruby Rose. And above all, I am a huntress. I fight the monsters."

"Even if there will always be more?"

"Especially then."

Archer scowled. "Then you have found your way to success?"

Ruby chuckled nervously. "Not yet. But I will find it. I'm not the only one looking after all."

She smiled glowingly at Jaune and he couldn't help but return the gesture. It was like he told her, Ruby inspired the rest of them.

Archer scoffed. "Such foolish prattle. But if that is the road you are determined to follow, I won't stand in your way. Or make you waste a Command Seal. Good luck finding a new Servant."

He flipped his grip on his sword. Jaune narrowed his eyes. Good riddance.

Archer plunged the blade towards his own throat…

… and it stopped cold an inch from his skin.

Archer's eyebrows shot up. "What the –"

"My Command Seal, remember?" Ruby lectured, walking up to him. Jaune tried to stop her but she batted his hand aside. "I commanded that you cannot hurt my friends. That includes you."

Jaune's eyes widened. Even if they still needed Servants for the war, this wasn't a small transgression. "Ruby, he just tried to kill you!"

Archer nodded, his hand unconsciously moving his sword out of the way. "He has an excellent point. Why would you ever forgive me?"

"I've seen your memories," Ruby reminded him. "I've seen what you tried to do, what you had to do. I understand why you didn't want me to become you. I'm not going to abandon you for making a choice when you thought you didn't have one, especially when you were trying to help."

Archer stared at her for a solid minute. Then, he burst out laughing. "You forgive me, you call me friend, just because I was trying to help? What nonsense!"

He shook his head to gather his senses, a light smirk, somewhat disbelieving and somewhat amused played across his lips. "You are quite the simple soul, Ruby Rose."

Ruby smiled at him.

Jaune wished he could share her good will. Archer had chosen to take up his sword against his friend. He couldn't forgive him just like that.

"Ruby! Jaune!" Qrow's voice called out from the forest. "Where are you?"

Ruby jumped up. She snatched Crescent Rose from where it laid on the ground. "Coming, Uncle Qrow!"

She started to run off when she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned back to Archer, a huge smile on her face.

Archer raised an eyebrow. "Yes, master?"

Ruby snorted. "Nothing. We better get going, _Uncle Shirou_."

She dashed off in a cloud of rose petals.

Jaune didn't think he'd ever seen Archer look so shocked. The Heroic Spirit opened his mouth to form words, then closed it again. Speechless, he disappeared into spirit form.

Jaune was left incredibly confused.

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Yang yawned as she closed the curtains of her window. The moon was pretty, but she didn't need the light when she was trying to sleep.

She'd changed into sweats and her sleeveless orange pajama shirt. It was finally getting easier to find the stuff since she was getting her closet back the way she liked it. Whoever folded all her clothes clearly didn't understand that you didn't mess with a girl's closet organization. It was like, taboo.

Ember Celica laid on her bedside table. All the hospital gear that had kept her alive while she was comatose had been shoved against the door side wall. They'd probably send it back to the hospital eventually, but her dad wanted to wait until everything was healed up, even though no one in the history of ever had ever relapsed into a coma.

Still, she glanced down at her bandaged right arm, a worried frown on her face. It had held up really well in training that day, but there was no guarantee it was back to a hundred percent, no matter how good it felt. She would head to the doctor in the morning and check to see if it was fully healed. She'd be happy to get the wrappings off and be rid of the final reminder of her failure at Beacon.

Then, she'd track Kirei down and punch him in his smug prick face.

She'd figure out what her dream was after that.

She'd reunite with her team and prove that she could stand beside them as equals.

She heard a creak from the floorboards behind her. She rolled her eyes and turned around. "Yes dad, I took my meds, don't worry about—"

There was a man in her doorway, but it was not her father.

Standing before her was a tall man in black leather armor cover by a red hood. A mop of messy silver hair sat atop a tan skinned head. On his belt was a set of knives and a pistol with an unusually large barrel.

A regretful frown was painted around his face.

Yang instantly fell into a combat stance, her eyes narrowing at the intruder. "Who are you? How did you—"

The man raised his right hand, a machine pistol with a massive magazine barrel seemingly appearing in his grasp out of thin air.

"Get down!" the man roared.

The gun cocked.

Yang went to the floor.

All hell broke loose.


	33. Come the Conqueror

Taiyang sighed as he put the last of the dishes away. Yang had gone up to bed already and he had offered to clean up dinner. It was admirable that she had figured out a way to do it even with her broken arm, but he didn't want to risk her re-injuring herself. Not when they'd be checking with the doctor to get it off tomorrow.

And then she'd leave.

Tai knew she had to. Ruby needed all the help she could get in the war and Yang was never one to let her little sister face a fight alone. Especially when she had her own score to settle in the matter.

Still, he wasn't looking forward to the house being empty again.

It was ironic. His parents had been carpenters, the best in all of Patch, quietly building whatever lumber was brought back from the Grimm infested forests into simple cottages. They had tried to instill their simple values into him, but he had gravitated towards the lumberjacks who'd braved the Beowolves to get the wood. He had become a huntsman for the thrill of the fight. Now, he would give anything if he and his girls could just live their lives in peace.

That was a foolish dream. He had signed away any hope for a peaceful life when he'd fallen in love with Raven. Or at least when she'd woken up from their wedding night with Command Seals on her hand.

Now… now he just wanted to make sure his girls could have the life he'd always wanted for them. A life of peace and happiness.

As far off as it seemed.

An eerie _creak_ suddenly cut through the air. Tai raised an eyebrow and made towards the living room. It could have been nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him, or maybe the house was just getting older…

Or the basement door could have been completely forced open. That was also a possibility.

Taiyang narrowed his eyes at the wrecked barrier, the wooden door torn off its hinges and left shattered on the ground. What could have snuck in so efficiently that he didn't hear anything until they'd had to do this?

The huntsman frowned and withdrew a fire dust crystal from the pouch at his side. His semblance allowed him to use its power without harm and he'd learned when he and Qrow had been attacked by the Saber of the last war to never be without one, not even in his own house. Maybe if he had known then, their Archer would have survived the encounter.

He glanced at the picture of Team STRQ on the coffee table. They'd all been so happy then.

With a sigh, he made to head down and take care of whatever had infiltrated his home.

"Get down!"

A thunderous round of machine gun fire echoed through the house.

Tai whirled around to the upper stairs, his eyes wide.

"Yang," he whispered in terror.

He immediately charged up to the second floor, leaving whatever was in the basement to its work. When he entered the bedroom hallway, he saw a man with silver hair and a red cloak firing a machine pistol into Yang's room.

His instincts kicking into gear, he thrust out his arm towards the assailant and sent a fireball hurtling downrange.

It seemed like it would incinerate the gunman, but when the flames were about to strike, suddenly he wasn't there anymore. Tai hadn't even seen him move. One moment he'd been in the path of the flames and the next he wasn't.

The fireball soared past its intended target and struck the wall behind him. The wood was strong, but a blaze still caught.

The light of the flames illuminated the assailant's face and Taiyang's heart skipped a beat.

"You…" he muttered in shock. "How can you be here?"

He'd seen that face before, in old photos from Summer's childhood. But the man from them couldn't possibly be alive unless…

He was a Servant.

Kiritsugu Emiya stared back at him with cold but desperate eyes.  "You have to leave. He is—"

"Ahh!" Yang roared, bursting out of her room with Ember Celica on her good arm. She charged her opponent, but he seemed to phase out of the way of any strike she threw.

Tai shook his head to regain his senses and dashed down the hall. He joined his daughter in her merciless rain of fisticuffs but the Assassin before them was too fast. Time seemed to stop whenever they attacked, giving him the opportunity to evade their blows.

Eventually, he caught one of Yang's punches and wrapped his arm around her.

"I said you have to GO!"

He spun around and threw Yang into her room and out her window.

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He grinned when he heard the machine gun fire from above. For a moment he'd thought Kiritsugu would test his ultimatum. After all, if his Assassin was unwilling to distract the Xiao-Longs, he would really have no choice but to waste a Command Seal ordering their execution.

Well, not really waste, but he only had five left. And given his Servant, he really shouldn't be using them unless he had to.

He continued to rummage through the boxes in the cabin's basement, tossing whatever he'd already searched onto the summoning seal covered floor.

After he’d acquired the Contender, he had searched across Remnant for a source of the weapon's ammunition. Sadly, he could find no trace of an Emiya or Rose residence from which to salvage the bullets and his own efforts to mimic the other half of the pistol's mystic code proved fruitless. Eventually, he was forced to resign himself to the fact that his prize was just as useless without its ammunition as the bullets were without it. He still carried the weapon as a fond trophy, but it was quite aggravating to be so close to his greatest enemy's abilities and yet still be denied.

Of course, his time at Beacon had enlightened him to another name that might have what he needed. Locating the Xiao-Long residence had taken more time than he'd hoped with the Vale CCT down, but it was far from impossible.

So here he was, tossing aside family photos and long obsolete weapons. Finally, he happened upon a single cardboard box. Across its front, in black permanent marker, was written 'Summer's Stuff'.

He forced open the box and was rewarded with the sight of a bandolier filled with several large bullets.

Kirei smirked.

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Kiritsugu was not happy.

Granted, he was rarely happy, the life of a Counter Guardian did not lend itself to joy, but he was content. Not satisfied, but content in that what he was doing was saving lives, even if he himself had to take many more. It was the best he could hope for.

And even in his darkest times, he had his past to look back on. The greatest memories of the many Kiritsugu Emiyas who had taken Alaya's contract. Not all of them had experienced the same triumphs and sorrows, but he as their amalgamation possessed them all.

Iri.

Illya.

Summer.

Shirou.

For them, he had accepted his fate a hundred times over. He had done as he'd always done, killed for the sake of those he would not have to.

When he had been summoned to this world, he hadn't been sure what to think. He was rarely called for a Holy Grail War in the first place, so the strange facets of the World of Remnant did not concern him too greatly, even with Alaya's mysterious absence.

Then, he'd seen him

Throughout his many lives, the face of Kirei Kotomine was not one he could ever forget.

Alas, he had been too slow, and Kirei had restrained him with a Command Seal before he could eliminate him. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to challenge the order and couldn't deal with him or the King of Heroes. At that point, everything inside of him was screaming to put his Contender to his skull and deprive the psychopath of a Servant.

However, he could not afford to act rashly with Kirei. If he removed himself from the war, the priest would just steal a Heroic Spirit from one of the other masters, except then he wouldn't be around to stop him.

So, he had decided to bide his time. Perhaps the Command Seal would weaken, or maybe he could manipulate events so that he was vulnerable at a critical moment. He would suffer Kotomine's constant mocking so long as he could ensure he did not survive this war.

The plan didn't go quite as expected. Contrary to his assumptions, Kirei did not immediately seek after the other masters, either for reconnaissance or assassination. Instead, he investigated the whereabouts of a family called Xiao-Long.

When they'd tracked down the house, Kirei had told him to deal with those in the house while he went in and searched for something. Given they both knew Kirei would do far worse to them if he refused, he had entered spirit form and invaded the cabin.

He was in the living room when he saw it. A framed picture on a coffee table. A picture of a blond man, a dark-haired woman with an odachi, a black-haired man with a scythe…

And Summer.

His Summer.

Was she here?

He quickly searched the rest of the house but could only find the blond man from the photo and a teenage girl with a bandaged arm.

He'd been crushed, but if the man had been a friend of Summer's, he could not let him encounter Kirei. The priest would annihilate him.

To that end, he'd opened fire on the girl, intentionally missing each shot. The noise attracted the man and made sure he was out of Kirei's path. Now he had until his master finished whatever he was doing to get these two away from him. To that end, he threw the girl out a window.

From what the grail told him of aura, she should be able to survive that.

Probably.

The blond man obviously didn't agree with his assessment and roared before unleashing a barrage of fisticuffs.

Kiritsugu didn't even have to put effort into dodging them. The man was far from weak; indeed, his form was superb and his trick with the red crystal and the fire was impressive. But he was a Servant, one with A+ Agility. Adding to that, his enhanced body allowed him to use his Time Alter magic at unprecedented levels. Even among other heroes, he was nearly unbeatable hand to hand. The huntsman might as well have been trying to punch the wind.

He waited until just the right moment, when the man's fist was at just the right angle. Then, he wrapped his arm around the warrior and threw him out the same window as his daughter.

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Taiyang rolled when he hit the ground, managing to get back to his feet almost instantly. Off to the side, Yang was recovering from her own fall, taking rapid breaths as her eyes flickered between violet and red.

Tai frowned. Just as he remembered, he was powerless against a Servant. Despite their numerical advantage, they hadn't been able to land a single blow. And if Yang lost control of her temper, then they were dead.

This wasn't a fight they could win.

But it also wasn't one they had to.

He glanced at the large wooden cabin. The house he'd built for him and Raven and kept for him and Summer after she came back from a mission with Ruby in her arms. Already, the flames from his earlier attack were spreading to the roof.

He glanced at Yang. His oldest daughter.

It wasn't even a choice.

Kiritsugu fired off a spray of bullets from his machine pistol and forced the Xiao-Longs back to the edge of the forest. The summoning circle Ruby had used to call Archer glistened under the light of the broken moon.

Yang's eyes finally settled in crimson. The young huntress growled.

Tai grabbed her shoulder before she could charge. "Don't. He's a Servant. We need to run."

His daughter looked at him with wide eyes of shock and a little bit of anger. "Run!? Are you serious?! We can't abandon our home!"

Tai stared her down, her crimson pupils so much like another pair he'd once loved. "It's just a house. We can't win this. We need to make for town."

Kiritsugu jumped out the window and made his way towards them, his weapon still raised.

Yang gulped, and her eyes returned to a calmer purple. "Even if we do, we can't outrun him."

"No, we can't," Tai admitted. "But maybe we won't have to. Stay behind me."

Yang didn't have a chance to respond before Tai walked towards their assailant, his arms raised in a placating gesture. He dropped his dust crystal to the ground.

The Servant paused in his march and raised an eyebrow.

"Kiritsugu Emiya. That's who you are right?" Tai asked. "You're Kiritsugu Emiya. The father of Summer Rose. You saved her when she was a little girl. You're her family. She was our family too. We're all family."

The assassin scowled and lowered his weapon. A thousand thoughts seemed to be running through his head.

Tai sighed and pressed on. He had to make sure he was on their side. "Neither of us are masters. You don't need to kill us."

"I don't want to kill you," Kiritsugu snapped. "But you have to leave this place. My master is here, a man named Kirei Kotomine—"

"Kirei? Robes is here?" Yang shouted. She wildly scanned through the area. "Where is he? I'll tear him apart—"

"Right here, Ms. Xiao-Long."

Tai whirled around to the source of the new voice. On the front porch of the house stood Kirei Kotomine, the man who put his daughter in a coma. He remembered sitting down to watch the fight on TV and then being barely able to move after it had ended before it began.

And now he was pointing a gun at her.

A gun Taiyang recognized instantly.

"Yang, move!" He roared, already diving.

He rammed into his daughter and pushed her out of the way just as the Contender fired.

To say he felt the Origin Round strike him would be like saying someone felt getting run over by a bus. When the bullet struck him in the shoulder, he felt his aura flare in an attempt to protect him. In response, the round tore right through and then stitched the remains into his wounds. A thunderbolt crackled throughout his body, throughout his very essence. His aura desperately tried to heal him but could only tear him apart further.

The fire from the roof spread to the walls. Soon, the blaze would consume the cabin.

He howled as agony like no other paralyzed him. By the time he hit the ground, he'd blacked out to escape the pain.

* * *

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"Dad!"

Yang screamed as her father smacked into the ground, his orange aura constantly crackling around him. He didn't get up.

She rushed over immediately, but when she tried to touch him, his personal shield shocked her away. All she could do was kneel next to him while his unconscious body spasmed in agony.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered. "Please no. Come on dad, get up! Dad! _Daddy_!"

The Servant, Kiritsugu Emiya, glared at Kirei.

The bastard just smirked as he walked up to them. "Come now, Kiritsugu. Aren't fathers supposed to despise their daughters' husbands?"

Yang's hands closed into fists. Her eyes glowed red.

Screw training. Screw her temper.

That bastard was gonna die.

Flames ignited from her hair. A lick of them caught onto her broken arm's bandages.

"KIREI!" she roared and leaped at the robed man, her uninjured arm pulled back for a punch.

Kirei dropped into the same stance he had used at the Vytal Festival.

Before he could move though, Kiritsugu appeared between them. He intercepted Yang and punched her in the stomach, the blow sending her careening back to her father and the circle of blood.

Yang coughed as she struggled to her knees. The blow had hurt, but it had obviously been restrained. The attack hadn't been meant to actually kill her. Not like Kirei's would have. And if they were that strong holding back…

There was no way she could win.

Kirei chuckled. "My, my. Aren't we the overprotective grandfather?"

Kiritsugu growled. "Let's go. You found the Origin Rounds. There's no point in staying here."

"On the contrary, Assassin, we need to eliminate a pointless person."

Kirei turned towards Yang and opened his Contender's barrel. He swiftly removed the empty shell and replaced it with a new round.

"No," Kiritsugu declared. "You will not hurt her."

_A girl in a white dress with a snowflake on her back, her posture poised and perfect._

"Oh," Kirei remarked. "Would you like to be the one to end her life?"

_A girl with long dark hair, confident and relentless._

"Don't you dare. There is no point."

_The cruelest blow of all, a small girl in a red hood, her eyes glued towards the unseen horizon._

"I disagree. It will bring me great joy to watch your suffering."

_A stampede of thunder, charging towards the endless ocean._

Kirei raised his right hand, his many Command Seals easy to see. "Shall we begin?"

"No." Yang declared. A dull ache resonated from her broken arm.

Kirei arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Do you have a preference to who ends your life, Yang?"

"I'm not going to die," Yang stated. Her voice was like stone, her declaration an undeniable fact. Her fists curled as her eyes filled with tears. "You had your shot. I'm still here. I fought my way back."

She gazed at her broken father, lying as she once had. Of all the people she loved, he had stood by her. Even with the fate of the world in the balance, he'd stayed by her side and helped her rebuild herself.

She couldn't leave him alone.

"I'm not going to die. Because I won't fade away into the darkness. I burn. I refuse to be killed. Not by a bastard like you!"

The bandages of her right arm finished their incineration. Beneath them were three blazing crimson Command Seals.

The summoning circle flared and there was a flash of white.

Kirei's eyes widened and he immediately fired the Contender.

A rush of wind shot past Yang and a wide sword appeared in front of her face. The bullet was squished flat against the face of the blade.

Kirei gaped in shock. Yang was pretty sure it was the first time she'd ever seen him surprised.

Kiritsugu shook his head balefully. "You have got to be kidding me."

Yang looked up at her savior, tears of relief streaming down her face.

He stood even taller than her father had, every inch of his body bulging with electric power. A magnificent cloak of red and gold fur covered his elaborate leather armor. He had a full head and beard of thick red hair. A soft frown rested on his face, his disproval emanating through the air even as he stepped forward.

Honestly, Yang could not remember ever being more in awe.

The implacable man put himself between her and her attackers, releasing his sword to sway at his side. "Come now, I know I can be intimidating, but that's no excuse for attacking a little girl before she can summon me."

He raised a disinterested eyebrow at Kiritsugu. "Though given how I dealt with the last Assassin I faced, I suppose it would be your only chance."

Kiritsugu grinned. "If you wish to kill us, come, King of Conquerors."

The assassin prepared to charge but before he could move, a golden portal appeared under his feet. The gunman's eyes widened in surprise and he fell into the void.

Kirei chuckled. Another portal appeared behind him.

Yang stood, fury in her eyes. "Hey!" She didn't completely understand what was happening, but there was no way she was letting the bastard who shot her father escape. "We're not done!"

Kirei smirked and shook his head. "For now, we are, Yang Xiao-Long. Another has laid claim to your Servant's death, and he will not appreciate my interference on the matter. Even still, my congratulations on being chosen by the Grail. It always has had a fondness for the aimless."

The robed man stepped through the portal and disappeared.

"What an odd fellow," the redhead remarked.

Yang ignored the newcomer and was instantly at her father's side once more. She felt his neck for a pulse. It was there, but wildly erratic.

She knew enough about medicine to know that wasn't good.

"No. Please, dad," she muttered desperately. "Please don't leave me."

The redhead knelt down and lifted her father into his arms like he weighed nothing, the shock from his erratic aura seemingly not even registering.

"Hey! Put him down!" Yang protested.

"Where is the nearest healer, girl?" the giant demanded. "He will need help immediately if he is to survive his injuries. I can get him there faster than anyone else."

"I said put him down—argh!"

The redheaded man flicked her in the face, the act somehow packing enough strength to send her to the ground. She groaned and pushed herself back to her knees, her eyes blazing crimson.

The man looked on impassively. "If you waste time fighting me, he will die for sure."

Yang growled, but knew he was right. She focused her breathing like in training and dimmed her eyes down to violet.

"There's a hospital in town about ten miles east of here" she explained.

The man smiled proudly. "Excellent."

He leaned her father over his shoulder and pulled out his sword again. He raised it high and then swiped it through the empty air.

The once peaceful clouds above churned with tempestuous wrath. The shattered moon was hidden from view.

Suddenly, a lightning bolt crashed down next to the burning house, its glare blinding Yang. When she could see again, there was a massive chariot with spiked wheels attached to two mighty bulls sitting in front of her.

The giant man loaded her father into the vehicle and then took the reins himself. He looked back to her. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

Despite the situation, Yang found she could only stare at her rescuer in complete shock. "Who… Who are you?"

The man flashed her an enormous toothy grin. "I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors! And in this war for the Holy Grail, I am of the Rider class!”

Yang blinked rapidly at the man’s proclamation. His voice, a timbre so mighty it demanded the world recognize it and bow… she felt like she’d heard it before. In a dream maybe?

Iskandar settled himself and turned to her with a more serious expression. “Now then, master, while I do enjoy a good introduction, I believe we have more important matters to attend to, don't you agree?"

"Um, yeah, right." Yang stammered as she boarded the chariot.

Iskandar cracked the reins and the vehicle soared into the sky in a rush of thunder. They were traveling so fast, they would probably reach the hospital in under a minute.

Yet even as the blazing cabin and some stray raven faded into the distance, Yang could only stare at the red marks on her right arm.

A Master. A Master of the Holy Grail War.

Just like Ruby.

What the hell did that mean?

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Kirei sighed as he stepped out of the portal and back into the church. He replaced the Contender at his side, its ammunition held in various pockets on his robe.

It had taken him over a decade, but he had finally tracked down Origin Rounds to go with his trophy of Summer Rose. Add to that Yang's grief over her father and Kiritsugu's inner turmoil and even with Rider's unexpected appearance, it was quite the successful night.

Kiritsugu meanwhile was glaring at the one who'd forced him back.

Gilgamesh sat back on one of the wooden benches, a flute of red wine in his hand and a pleased grin of his face.

"I assume you saw that," Kirei said.

"Come now, Kirei. I can't have you dying before I have reclaimed my treasure," the King of Heroes stated. "It would be so terribly inconveniencing to find another master to get me the Grail and make my wish."

Kirei shrugged. He did not have any issue with retreating. He had gotten what he'd sought after and even more. It would not be prudent to be gluttonous about the matter. Besides, he doubted he and Kiritsugu could have prevailed had Rider deployed his Reality Marble.

He glanced over at his seething Assassin. That was probably what Kiritsugu had been hoping for when he charged.

He'd have to be more careful about that. He wasn't ready to let his dearest enemy go again just yet.

Speaking of dearest enemies…

"May I ask what your plans are regarding the King of Conquerors?” he inquired of the King.  “Do you intend to seek him out like you did in Fuyuki?"

Gilgamesh lowered his glass. He swished its diminished contents around as his eyes narrowed in thought.

"No," he eventually declared. "My word to the King of Conquerors still stands, and if he challenges me again then I shall face him. But it is not fitting for a king to seek out a worthy foe without being able to bring to bear the arms that opponent has earned. I will allow him to weed out the unworthy of this war before gracing him with my appearance once more."

The King of Heroes tipped his glass and finished off the last of his wine. A wave of his hand later and a portal took the empty flute away.

The golden man stood up, not a speck of silver to be seen, his glorious majesty once again unblemished.

The Gate of Babylon opened before him.

"Come Kirei. I have heard that Mistral creates this world's finest wine."


	34. The Lancers Advance

Ruby raised an eyebrow at the awkward farm boy in front of her, his spindly legs twitching nervously under her scrutiny. "So, you're Professor Ozpin?"

The boy, Oscar, raised his hand and wiggled it as if to say _so-so_.

"So, you're not Ozpin?" Jaune asked with a confused expression.

"No, I am," Oscar assured them. "Well, sort of. It's complicated."

"How is it complicated?" Archer inquired. "Ozpin is a collection of souls fused into one being that reincarnates into a new body upon death so as to continue protecting Remnant in the absence of a Counter Force. That doesn't even crack the top ten of the strangest things I've seen."

Qrow scowled, his hand tightening on his sword. "Yeah, well, the rest of us just aren't as _experienced_ as you, are we?"

Ruby sighed. After Jaune had told him what happened in Unlimited Blade Works, Uncle Qrow had made sure she was never alone with her Servant. Even now, when they were all gathered around Oscar and had a scroll opened to video call with Blake's group, he made sure he stood between them.

Part of her was annoyed at him for being overprotective when she had already forgiven Archer for his mistake. He had been trying to help and besides that, he was technically family.

Of course, the other part of her remembered that Archer had tried to _kill_ her so maybe expecting Qrow to instantly be okay with him was asking a bit too much.

Archer ignored Qrow and turned to Oscar. "What I don't understand is why there is an absence of a Counter Force. I haven't felt Alaya since I was summoned."

Oscar scratched the back of his head. "I don't know what that is. Ozpin might, but he is mourning…" The boy stopped and looked like he was listening to some unseen person for a moment. "Oh, are you sure? Alright then."

Oscar took a deep breath and looked back to the others. "Just so you know, I'm still going to be here. Just… well, you'll see."

A flash of emerald light shot through Oscar's eyes. Immediately, his body slouched heavily, as if the weight of the world had suddenly been dropped on his shoulders. His eyes were immediately wet with tears.

Yet, when he saw Ruby, Jaune, and the others through the scroll, a relieved smile managed to grace his lips.

"It is good to see you again, my students," he proclaimed.

Everyone, save Archer and Qrow, took a step back in shock. Even Blake and Ren, normally unflappable, and Mordred, who usually just didn't care, had their eyes wide in astonishment.

Ruby knew why. The voice was still Oscar's, but there was something different about the cadence. The speech pattern, even for that simple sentence, was somehow older than it was before, stronger even.

It reminded Ruby of only one person.

"Professor… Ozpin?" Blake gasped.

The man in the farm boy's body smiled just a bit larger. He rubbed his arm against his face to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Indeed, Miss Belladonna. Who do you think wrote 'The Man with Two Souls'? I wasn't a huntsman in every life."

Blake croaked weakly but was shoved back as Nora mugged the device's camera. "No way!" the Valkyrie exclaimed. "This is amazing! He's such an adorable little cute boy Ozpin!"

"Please don't call me that."

Ozpin turned to Archer. "Shirou Emiya. It's an honor."

"Have we met?" the bowman inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Not officially, no. But my original body possessed substantial clairvoyance. I saw many futures before this one came to pass and when you featured in them you were always admirable. However…"

The professor's eyes narrowed. "I would advise not pulling the same stunt you attempted with Miss Rose again. For your own sake."

"Noted," Archer remarked nonchalantly, not even considering the threat for what it was. "Now then, my question."

"Yes, that," Ozpin began. "I assume Qrow informed you all of the events of the Fourth War? Of the corruption? When it escaped at the end of the conclusion of the war, it unleashed itself upon the world, nearly wiping out humanity and crippling Alaya. She is not dead, as she cannot truly die unless humanity does, but she is dormant, unable to act or even invoke her own Counter Force. Gaia, in order to avoid a similar situation from her own injuries, fled to Avalon, a mystical isle exempt from the normal laws of reality."

Jaune glanced at Qrow. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

Qrow shrugged. "Did you understand what half of those words meant?"

"Fair point."

Archer scratched his chin in thought. "This corruption, does it still exist? I assume Gaia would not still be in hiding if it didn't."

Ozpin nodded. "After its battle with Gaia, I worked together with the Last Hero to face it in its weakened state. Unfortunately, by then it had transformed into a _she_."

"Salem?" Ruby guessed.

"Precisely. She took advantage of the Last Hero's compassion and used him to return some of her former power. She created the Grimmlands, and its occupants, shortly thereafter."

Sun cringed. "Okay, she's bad news. How do we stop her?"

Ozpin slumped, the weight on his shoulders seemingly doubled. "Not easily, Mr. Wukong. The Grimmlands are no mere island, but an autonomous Reality Marble, bound to Salem's lifeforce. So long as it exists, so shall she. And so long as she exists, it can return and encroach on the real world, spawning an infinite horde of Grimm."

Ruby gulped. She remembered the boundless field of swords in Unlimited Blade Works, so sprawling there didn't seem to be an end in sight. It was an entirely separate world. If the Grimmlands were like that and Salem couldn't be killed until it was destroyed, then what hope did they have of beating her?

Ozpin sighed. "There are few things in existence that can wipe out the Grimmlands. Until nineteen years ago, I had thought them all out of our reach."

"The Holy Grail," Jaune surmised. "You want us to use the Holy Grail to destroy Salem?"

Qrow nodded. "It's what we were all going for in the last war."

Jaune was silent, a pensive look on his face as he looked away unsure.

Ruby could understand his turmoil. While defeating Salem aligned with her own wish to destroy the Grimm, it would also mean he couldn't use it to bring back Arturia and Pyrrha. It wasn't fair.

But it was what they had to do.

"All this is fascinating and all," Mordred spoke up through the scroll, an irritated scowl on her lips. "But this all seems pointless in the face of a far more important question."

Archer raised an eyebrow. "Really, Saber? And what would that be?"

"How the hell do you have father's sword?!" Mordred yelled, her finger pointing accusingly at Ozpin, who had laid both his cane and a magnificent golden sword against a nearby tree.

Strangely, Ozpin chuckled at Mordred's shout. "I have my ways, dear knight. You of everyone here should know that."

Mordred tilted her head in confusion. "Have we met before, wizard?"

Ozpin shook his head gleefully. "You really are just like her."

The wizard turned to Qrow. "Forgive me, old friend. I have not been completely forthcoming about all my reincarnations."

Qrow raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, Oz?"

"I have tried to make sure you were informed of any details that could assist you in our mission. But some of my lives have been too painful for me to relive," Ozpin revealed. "One of which was my first, when I was known as the wizard Merlin, court sorcerer of King Arturia Pendragon."

Ruby blinked a few times to make sure she'd heard right. Ozpin had been Arturia's friend when she had lived the first time? That's what he meant when he said he had lived an eon?

She looked to Jaune, whose jaw had dropped. While she didn't really have much to connect the name to beyond Arturia, he had probably heard stories about this Merlin guy his entire life."

Qrow looked confused for a moment, before nodding to himself, as if the final piece of a puzzle had just fallen into place. “So, that’s who she was talking about.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. "You're Merlin? Forgive me, but that seems like—"

"Bullshit!"

Mordred glared hatefully through the scroll, lightning sparking all around her.

Ozpin sighed. "It's good to see you again too, Mordred."

"Don't talk to me!" the knight shouted. "You may be able to fool these imbeciles, but I knew the Magus of the Flowers! I grant that you've got almost all his mannerisms down pretty well. His lethargy, his vagueness, his infernal inability to give a straight answer…"

"I've been working on that."

“BUT! You have failed to capture his most telling tic!" Mordred declared. "You've been in the presence of a beautiful woman for more than half a second and you haven't looked at her boobs even once!"

Qrow's eyes widened in shock, his hand discreetly landing on his sword hilt. Jaune and Blake got red in the face.

Ruby raised an eyebrow in confusion. Beautiful woman? What the heck was Mordred talking about? She and Blake were on the other side of the continent.

Ozpin coughed into his hand. He looked to the side as if talking to himself. "No, Oscar. You will not become a pervert."

He turned back to the Saber. "Mordred, my… less than chivalrous habits were a result of my incubus blood. Which was buried with my first body."

"So you say," Mordred snorted. She turned to Jaune. "Do you want me to stick around here, master? Or do you want to use a Command Seal to have me return to you?"

Jaune furrowed his brow in thought. He and Ruby each only had two Command Seals left. If they wasted them carelessly again, they might not have them for when they really needed them. But with Mordred still so far away, both of their groups were vulnerable.

"If I may make a suggestion?" Ozpin spoke up. "Mordred should keep moving forward with Miss Belladonna's group. If they can get closer to Haven, Raven may be more hesitant about attempting another attack."

Qrow snorted. "Raven ain't scared of Lionheart. It might give her pause but she won't stay away for long, no matter where the hell she ran off to."

"That pause is all the time we need," Ozpin revealed. "As long as Mordred has Avalon, I think I may be able to use the connection between it and Excalibur, and her and Jaune, to transport us to their location."

Archer raised an eyebrow. "You can teleport us all?" he asked disbelievingly.

Ozpin grinned. "I am one of the greatest mages to ever live. It will take a few days to set up, but with a twice fold link and the leftover prana of Kiritsugu's bounded field, it should be doable."

Archer didn't look convinced but, in the end, he shrugged. "It's the best plan we've got."

Ruby nodded. They had traveled in separate groups so that no one would know the others' connection to the war, but with both Raven and Blake's old friend Adam knowing otherwise, there was safety in numbers.

Blake nodded. "We'll keep moving towards Haven. That way, when you guys join up, we'll be that much closer."

Mordred frowned. "Is this how you want to play this, master?"

Jaune paused a moment, then nodded. "It is. I'm sorry to put this on you, especially with the _prana_ strain, but I'm going to need you to take care of them a bit longer."

"Stop talking out of your ass, you idiot," Mordred scolded, though unlike the other times she had done so, Ruby noted there was a friendly grin on her face. "I knew what I was getting into when you sent me here. I'll take care of these guys until you get over here."

Nora enveloped the Knight of Treachery in a huge hug. "And we'll take care of Mor-Mor too! Don't you worry a bit about your big brother, Jaune. No meany Lancer is going to kick her ass again while we're around!"

Mordred glared at her. "What do you mean kick my ass? I had him on the ropes!"

"Gotta go, Jaune," Ren said quickly as the two girls began to argue. "Be safe."

The call ended.

Ozpin sighed. "Well, I'll get started on the teleportation spell while I still can. This possession doesn't last long, and I'd rather not force Oscar to have to build the more complex aspects of it. Miss Rose, please come find me after you've rested from your battles. There is something we should discuss about your eyes."

Ruby nodded. With the trouble her minimal use of her powers had gotten her into, she was looking forward to learning a bit more about them.

Ozpin smiled. He snatched Excalibur from where it laid and walked over to Jaune. He held out the hilt of the blade. "This is yours now, Mr. Arc. Use it well."

Jaune's eyes widened like a deer in highlights. For a moment, he just stared at the sword, awe plastered across his face.

Ruby didn't blame him. The magnificent sword looked exactly like the one Arturia had brandished against Gilgamesh at the top of Beacon Tower. Back then, she hadn't had the peace of mind to focus on it, but now… _oooohhh_.

At risk of sounding like Yang, the sword was hot.

In the end, Jaune snatched the blade from Ozpin's grip. He frowned. "We're not done. You've still got a lot of explaining to do. About mom and Pyrrha."

Ozpin lowered his head, ashamed. "Mr. Arc, that is the least of what I have to answer for."

He said no more and strode up toward the cabin, his back sagging like a beaten dog.

Ruby walked over to Jaune. "Hey, can we talk? Somewhere private?"

Jaune raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "Sure."

"Hold it, blondie," Qrow snarled. "You are not being alone with—"

"Branwen," Archer interrupted. "you do remember he kept her alive against me? He won't try anything."

Qrow growled but took his hand off his sword hilt. He glared at Jaune. "Remember how a 'beautiful woman' deserves to be treated, kid."

Jaune gulped.

Ruby rolled her eyes. Was everyone forgetting that Mordred and Blake were a continent away? Oh well, they all took some hard hits in their fights. It really couldn't be helped.

She dragged Jaune off into the forest.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Adam seethed as he paced back and forth. The clearing he, Ilia, and Lancer had retreated to was wide and had plenty of space to move, perfect for his style of combat should they be attacked. Also, it made sure there was no one else nearby for him to kill in his rage.

Everything had been going so well! He had saved Blake. Raven was right there for the killing. Lancer triumphed over both the enemy Servants!

And then Raven had had the gall to dismiss him and Blake had chosen to side with humans who used her as a decoy over him. Lancer couldn't even finish off Saber in time before Blake declared she would protect her.

The impudence! The ungratefulness! He should have let Lancer tear right through…

No.

No. That was the old him. The fool who would be satisfied with only a portion. The idiot who was cowed by the impossible.

He would have Blake. He would have the faunus respected.

He would have everything he wanted.

Ilia slowly tiptoed up to him, her face like she was defusing a bomb.

"Adam, calm down," she advised. "Blake is still confused, but she'll come around. She's seen what Lancer can do now. Even if she's resisting, she knows that we're stronger than the humans she's with."

Adam slowed his breathing, desperate to regain control of himself. "Are you sure she's confused, Ilia? Since she left the Fang, I've saved her life twice. I’ve offered to use the grail as she would. I've done everything in my power to show her that we are fighting the same fight. And still, she chooses humans over us."

He sighed and leaned against a tree. If any of his men were present, he would never show such weakness, but with just Ilia…

"I don't know what to do," he confessed. "When she was with us, everything was so simple. We protected our people from anyone who would oppress them. Now, she's abandoned us when we have the chance to erase that oppression and I don't how she could have come to view our cause as wrong."

Ilia gave him a sympathetic grimace and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Blake has always been more stubborn than the rest of us. It's part of how she inspired us. If she believes something is right, or that someone is her friend, she will never abandon them. The humans have her fooled for now, but eventually, she'll see them for what they really are. We just have to wait."

Adam chuckled and shared a smile with his old friend. Truly, he needed someone for when even his resolve started to crack. Bringing her in from Menagerie was a smart move.

Let Blake have her delusions. Let Raven have her cowardice. He had his friend. And soon he'd have everything else he wanted.

_"Master, I apologize for my part in failing to form an alliance with Lady Blake."_

And a great deal he didn't, it seemed.

Adam gently pushed Ilia's hand off his shoulder and stood up tall. "I'm not in the mood for these games, Lancer. Show yourself."

Ilia grinned bashfully, shaking her head amused. "Lancer hiding in spirit form again?"

_"My lord, I beg of you. Please allow me to remain—"_

"Materialize. Now." Adam ordered.

A moment passed. Nothing happened.

Finally, the air shimmered and Diarmuid appeared kneeling before them, head bowed. Ilia blushed.

"Continue," Adam allowed.

Diarmuid sighed. "Master, I am grievously sorry for my failure in securing the alliance with Lady Blake. Had I only known that Saber was not at full power, I could have forestalled a battle until such conditions were as the Lady would have been satisfied with the Knight of Treachery's death."

"It's not your fault, Lancer," Ilia insisted softly. "You had no way of knowing that Saber's master wasn't nearby."

"I thank you for your kindness, Mistress Ilia," Diarmuid stated. However, his head seemed to force itself lower to try and avoid Ilia's gaze. "However, I also mistook Mordred for her father in the surveillance photos, putting us at an unnecessary disadvantage—"

"Does she disgust you so?" Adam interrupted.

Diarmuid raised an eyebrow. "What? Master, I'm afraid I do not understand—"

"Why can you not stand to even look at Ilia?" Adam demanded hotly. Every time Ilia was present with him, Diarmuid did his best to either remain in spirit form or to turn his face from her, despite Ilia's obvious attraction to him.

Really, Adam felt insulted for his friend. It had taken him a while to figure out the meaning behind her constant blushing around Lancer, but once he had, his rage had only built. He had never seen Ilia show interest towards any guy before. The human should feel honored that such a beautiful faunus had deemed him worthy of her favor.

Ilia herself glared at him. "Adam, it's fine. Lancer is perfectly fine doing—"

"No, my lady," Diarmuid intervened. "Lord Adam is correct. I have been greatly remiss. I am still unused to being in a world where my legend isn't known and as such, I failed to inform you of certain dangers. Dangers I believe to be affecting you now."

Adam narrowed his eyes. If Lancer had put Ilia in danger, he would use a Command Seal to make him scream. "Explain. Now."

Diarmuid raised a figure to a beauty mark under his right eye. "When I was born, I was given this mole and a terrible curse," he explained. "Any woman who gazes upon my face will be stricken with love for me."

Ilia's eyes widened in shock. The chameleon girl took a terrified step back. "What?"

Adam's hand strayed to Blush and tightened around the hilt.

"I am truly sorry, Lady Ilia. If I could negate the spell, I would," Diarmuid apologized. "In my first life, my lord's betrothed gazed upon me at a wedding and then placed a geis, a magically binding contract, upon me to force me to run away with her. My lord gave chase, but eventually accepted our marriage and welcomed us back."

"Until the two of you went hunting," Adam finished, the story reminding him of dreams he had been having ever since the summoning. Diarmuid looked at him with widened eyes. "What? Is that not what happened? Your lord betrayed you on your hunting trip and had you killed."

"Not exactly. I died on a hunting trip, yes, but my lord did not kill me. I was wounded facing a demon boar. My lord, Fionn, had the ability to turn spring water into mystical healing water, but the pain I had caused him made him drop the water twice. By the time he had returned for the third time, I had already passed. When I returned to fight in the Fourth Holy Grail War, my presence caused my master's fiancé to behave irrationally, which made us all vulnerable to the machinations of Saber's master."

"That's not your fault, Lancer!" Ilia protested.

Diarmuid shook his head. "Mistress Ilia, have you ever felt what you are feeling towards any other man?"

"Well, not a man…"

"That is because what you are feeling is artificial. It is not true love, but an obsession my curse has thrust upon you. For that, you have my deepest apologies. I should have been more careful. As it is, further exposure will just increase your affliction until it consumes you."

Adam growled. "You should do less apologizing and more explaining. This could have been avoided if you had said anything about what was going on."

Diarmuid bowed his head once. "I can offer nothing but my regrets, master. I am truly—"

"Don't say you're sorry!" Adam roared. "It doesn't fix anything."

The bull Faunus stewed within himself. One half of him wanted to tear Lancer limb from limb for his stupidity. If he had only been less of a sniveling coward, they could have nipped this catastrophe in the bud before it had spun out of control.

The other half…sympathized with him?

It was strange, but in his dreams of Diarmuid's past, it had always felt like he had been the one suffering. He had been forced to betray his lord. He had felt the guilt of his failure. He had felt the boar's tusks tear through his side. He felt the anguish of Fionn's betrayal. And he had felt the resignation as he had realized it was his own fault.

As irritating as it was, he understood Diarmuid. He pitied the fool and raged against the men who had condemned him for something he could not control. In that sense, he was actually little different from a faunus.

Adam came to a decision. "Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First of the Knights of Fianna, do you swear that you will serve me and my dream, and that you shall for the rest of your days?"

Diarmuid raised an eyebrow in confusion but quickly stood straight and proud. "On my life and my honor, Lord Adam."

Adam nodded. "Then the matter is settled. We shall fight together, and we shall claim the Grail for the sake of the Faunus. Take to spirit form for now. We move out for headquarters at dawn."

Diarmuid smiled. "At once, my lord. And thank you for your understanding."

The knight disappeared into blue particles.

Adam chuckled and turned to Ilia. His old friend had a confused look on her face. "What?"

The chameleon faunus shook her head. A small grin graced her lips. "Nothing. Just… it's nice to know that Blake's wrong. You haven't changed from the old days."

Adam snorted. "It seems Blake's been wrong about a lot of things lately. I fight for our people, the same as I always have." He frowned and looked at his friend more tenderly. "How are you? I can't imagine this was easy to hear."

Ilia sighed, his skin fluctuating between a furious red and a bashful pink. "I'm… I don't know. My head knows what I'm feeling isn't real and in hindsight, it makes perfect sense. But I don't… feel like it isn't real. I still love him. It's infuriating really, do you get it?"

Adam got it. He guessed he felt a similar way about Blake. He knew that she was a traitor to their cause, but he could not help but be lenient with her. He still wanted her back no matter what.

And he would have everything he wanted.

A smirk danced across his face. "If you want, I can use a Command Seal to make him take you on a date."

Ilia grabbed him by his jacket and slammed him into a tree. Her eyes were wide and intensely focused. "Would you? Do you think he'd like that? Where would we even go though? What would he eat—"

"Joking! Joking! Ilia, I was making a joke!" Adam stammered out immediately. "I was trying to be funny."

Ilia's intensity immediately stopped. She removed her hands from his jacket and softly coughed. "Right, of course…. Jokes. Because forcing him on a date would be wrong. Totally, completely wrong."

Adam did not want to open that can of worms again. "Right…"

The two faunus stood there awkwardly for several seconds until he cleared his throat again.

"Well, we better get moving. I think we've kept High Leader Khan waiting long enough."

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Weiss sighed as the Bullhead soared smoothly through the air. Ever since she had given in to the Queen, her mind had been more at peace than she could ever remember. No longer was she plagued with self-doubts about reaching perfection or living up to some meaningless name. She was perfect as she was, and with her power, she would serve her savior to the best of her abilities.

She glanced at the single black Command Seal on her right hand, then at the black armored behemoth seated across from her in the cockpit. Cu Chulainn slumped in his chair, a bored look on his face as his spiked tail laid harmless on the floor. Gae Bolg rested casually against his shoulder.

A smirk crossed her lips.

Even docile as he was at the moment, Lancer Alter was a far greater gift than her father or brother ever gave her.

_Whitley…Oh gods, what did I do?_

**What he deserved. What all betrayers deserve**.

_…Yes… what all betrayers deserve._

The betrayers would suffer. They would suffer and die. Whitley was only the first.

The rest, her team, her so-called _friends_ who'd left her to rot, they would be next. Once the Queen's plans reached fruition and All the World's Evils was all the world, well…

The taste would be sweet when they got what they earned, and she watched them burn.

Speaking of…

Weiss turned her gaze to Emerald who piloted the aircraft through a maze of airborne islands suspended by gravity dust above Lake Matsu. Caster sat next to her master, the two of them chatting amiably about some unimportant subject.

Perhaps Weiss should have detested Emerald. The girl had kidnapped her from her mansion, but that place had been more of a prison than a home by that point. Honestly, she was glad it had burned to the ground. Besides, she had brought her to the Queen, and that was the greatest experience of her life. For that alone, the green-haired thief had her gratitude.

But by the Queen, this flight was boring.

"How much further to Haven?" she inquired.

Emerald checked some of the system's readings. "Another few days at least."

Weiss seethed. "We have been flying for ages."

"Yeah, and we had to take the long way. You know, so no one notices an unregistered bullhead flying through their airspace when Vale just suffered the worst terrorist attack in history four months ago," Emerald sniped back. "We've just got to fly in from the Anima countryside."

"And claim to be from some wiped out village that no one has ever heard of?"

Emerald shrugged. "Should work. Even with the heightened security, Mistral has got the largest territory of any of the kingdoms and settlements disappear from the Grimm all the time. We're going to make sure our course takes us through a Nuckelavee's territory, so no one should raise an eyebrow. And if they do…"

"I'll step in," Caster finished. "Hypnotism has its advantages."

Lancer Alter yawned at that. "No offense, Caster, but I'd rather handle that myself. Nothing against your skills, but anyone smart enough to realize something's is up might be useful for a bit of entertainment."

All present knew what he meant by that, but while Emerald and Caster looked somewhat off-put, Weiss found she didn't really mind him indulging himself a little. Hell, part of her was even considering joining in. Would she have done that before?

Of course not.

She was weak then.

The radar pinged off.

Emerald leaned over to examine the screen. "We've got incoming. A swarm of Lancer Grimm are right behind us."

Weiss snorted. "The Grimm know not to attack us. The Queen likely sent them as an escort."

Cu Chulainn grinned viciously and rose to his feet. "The Queen knows our strength well enough to know we don't need an escort. No, this is entertainment."

He snatched up his spear and twirled it over his shoulder. "Open the cargo bay door," he ordered Emerald. The girl did so, and he began moving towards the hatch. Before he went through, he turned back and gave Weiss a cheeky grin. "Coming, my _lady_."

Weiss bristled at his taunt, but she followed him down none the less.

When they arrived, she conjured a black glyph beneath her feet. While before she would need to have gravity dust loaded into Myrtenaster, now she was one with the Queen, and her power was more potent than dust ever was. A small puddle of black muddle bubbled out of the glyph and held her fast to the Bullhead's floor.

Lancer didn't even need that much. He just stood steadfast against the rushing winds, a massive grin plastered on his face.

The swarm of Lancer Grimm, large, wasp-like creatures with stingers that could be shot from the beast on a connective line, buzzed menacingly as they flew amidst the air.

Cu Chulainn chuckled. "Well, it's not much, but with the drought I've been in, I'll take it!"

The Heroic Spirit leapt from the cargo bay without a care in the world.

Weiss wanted to chastise him for his recklessness, he couldn't enter spirit form like Caster after all, but just watching him was… well… stunning. She remembered Arturia Arc's short display at Beacon, but this was on another level. Every strike slaughtered a Grimm and he immediately bounded off the dissipating corpse to his next victim. His tenacity. His ruthlessness. He tore through the entire hoard in barely an instant.

After the last beast fell from the sky, he jumped off of one of the floating islands and back into the hold. The reinforced steel dented upon his landing.

The Alter sighed. "Better than nothing, I guess. Maybe the queen will be more of a challenge."

"Queen?"

No sooner had the question left Weiss' mouth than a Grimm three times the size of the others emerged from behind one of the islands, its pincers baying for vengeance.

Cu Chulainn smiled. "Well, that's something at least. Maybe I can actually put some effort into this one."

Weiss held out her hand before he could charge. The Lancer raised an eyebrow but ultimately heeded her command.

With her Servant paused, she thrust out her other hand and created a maze of glyphs in the air. Acting quickly before their flight speed moved them away, she changed the nature of the circle she stood on and bounded into the labyrinth she had created, bounded between each sigil like a rocket.

When she approached the Queen Lancer, she swiftly drew Black Myrtenaster, her Queen's mud bubbling inside its dust chambers. She brought her sword back and called a glyph to its tip. From that circle, spawned the massive sword of her Arma Gigas.

One slash later, and there was only one queen in the skies.

Unfortunately, said queen also realized too late that she couldn't fly.

Weiss was just about to summon another line of glyphs to return to the bullhead, when a blast of air rushed past and snatched her up. When her senses could understand reality again, she was back in the cargo bay.

And in Lancer's arms.

It was more comfortable than she expected.

The Heroic Spirit flashed a roguish smile. "What happened to 'A servant should die to a Servant'?"

Weiss hopped out of his arms and huffed indigently. "I would hardly call a Queen Lancer a servant."

"Oh, but she was," Cu Chulainn remarked. "They all were. Servants who give their all despite not having a body to give it with. I'd gladly honor their wish to be free of such shackles."

Weiss raised an eyebrow, the black Command Seal on her hand twitching. "You view your service to the Queen as shackles?"

The hero laughed. "Don't worry, my lady. The Queen is as much a part of me as she is a part of them. Or you. I'll fight for her until the end."

A bloodthirsty grin crossed his face. "But that fight is mine. When I was a boy, I found out that I would live a life like no other but die before I was twenty. I had no issue with that. After all, what use is life if it is not filled with excitement? I died fighting an entire army and it was glorious. Now, I have been given a second chance at war, and my foes are some of the greatest heroes of all time. I yearn to face them, to crush them in glorious combat and lick their blood from my lips."

He glanced at her and chuckled. "And if how you went at that Grimm was any indication, so do you."

Her eyes widened. "I don't know what you're talking about," she protested. "I live to serve the Queen."

"Yes, yes, yes, long live Salem," Cu spouted sarcastically. "I know you'll serve her until your dying breath, just like I will. She knows it too. Which is why she wants you to enjoy it. Why do you think she sent these buzzards to us? Or even let you come with me in the first place instead of keeping her Servant summoner back home in case one of our enemies gets lucky?"

Weiss didn't admit that the thought had crossed her mind. The Alter Servants were powerful, but not completely invincible. The soundest strategic move would be to keep Weiss back in the Grimmlands to summon another hero if one of them were to fall in battle. Why risk such an advantage?

**You are not a slave. You are not a prisoner.**

**You are us. And we want to be happy.**

_Yes, we shall be happy._

Cu chuckled as a smile crossed her face. "We're Salem's dogs. The hounds she wants to crush the other Servants, so she doesn't risk Caster. But she's not keeping us on a leash. She wants us to have our fun, our satisfaction. What we do, how we fight, is up to us. Who we fight, is up to us."

_Yellow Beauty. Black the Beast._

"Red like Roses," Weiss whispered, sadistic, almost orgasmic glee on her tongue.

"Exactly," Cu confirmed. "There's no reason to hide what you love. Enjoy the battle. After all, we're going to win in the end."

Weiss smirked at her Servant. "Oh, getting a little overconfident, aren't we, Lancer?"

The armored man shrugged. "Just being realistic. After all, unless we're up against the King of Heroes, I'm pretty sure I can deal with anyone we come across. My spear is the most powerful in the world."

Weiss glanced at Gae Bolg, its immense length and countless blood red spikes as imposing as the fang of a Wyvern.

Then, she glanced at another area and was just as pleased with what she saw.

Lancer Alter truly was the greatest gift she had ever received.

And if she was no longer hiding what she loved…

"Hey!" Emerald shouted from the cockpit. "The radar says the Lancers are gone. Are you two coming back up here or what?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. Her opinion of Emerald had just dropped dramatically.

Cu Chulainn chuckled. "Well, my lady. Battle awaits."

"Indeed," she concurred. She raised her hand and a small black glyph appeared in her palm. A tiny version of the Arma Gigas sword flashed into existence.

She imagined it was a scythe.

She crushed the spectral weapon in her hand and licked her lips. "Battle and blood."


	35. Leave the Past Behind

Jaune gingerly followed Ruby into a small clove of trees. After everything Ozpin had disclosed, he honestly wasn't sure what he was thinking. All he knew was that Excalibur felt like dead weight in his hands, like a ball and chain dragging him down into the depths where he belonged.

No. He couldn't think like that anymore. Like he told Ruby in the reality marble, they'd done everything they could with the information they had at the Fall. Blaming himself wasn't going to do any more good than her blaming herself.

What was done was done. They could only keep moving forward.

But with the Grail, he could go back. He could save his mom and Pyrrha. But in the process, he'd leave Salem alive.

Could he do that? He knew he shouldn't.

Ruby finally stopped and turned around to face him. Her eyes darted side to side as she bit her bottom lip. "So…" she started nervously.

Jaune felt his body shake nervously as well. "So…"

Ruby sighed. "I… huh. Thank you. Thank you for what you said in Unlimited Bladeworks. I was ready to give up and you reminded me that I'm not allowed to."

"Don't mention it. You've done the same for me a dozen times. It's the least I could do," Jaune waved off. His lips fell into a frown. "Ruby… what you said in there, about mom and Pyrrha and even Penny. None of it was your fault."

The red hooded girl shrugged. "It wasn't. Not completely, I guess. But still, your mom, she saved me instead of Pyrrha and then my eyes killed her. And I'm sorry for that. I know I should have told you sooner, but I was worried you'd hate me."

Jaune flashed a bitter smile. "I could never hate you, Ruby. I messed up and Pyrrha chose to fight Cinder to try and fix that mistake. Then I called mom for help and… well… you know the rest. I've been blaming myself for it since it happened."

"You had no way of knowing—"

"I know," he assured her hastily. He'd seen what Ruby's self-blame had nearly caused and he knew that his would lead nowhere better. Still… "It's one thing to know it. It's another to feel it."

Ruby chuckled blithely. "Yeah. Maybe we'd be a little farther along on that if we'd bothered to talk to each other before we set out. Been able to support each other after everything."

"Why would we talk to each other? We're the socially awkward, remember?"

"Huh. Yeah."

Another silence spread between the two of them. Both lost in thought of their own failings.

At last, Ruby raised her head again. "Well, we can't do that anymore. We have to talk. And we can start by asking what we should have done first."

Jaune cocked an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"What's your wish for the Grail?"

He didn't speak for a moment, his mind whirling through all he'd learned. All he wanted and all he knew he should do.

_“They accepted that as the path they chose. You want to negate their impact on history just to assuage your own guilt!”_

"I want to bring back mom and Pyrrha," he confessed. "But I know I can't. They'd rise from their graves and kill me themselves if they knew I'd passed up a chance to destroy Salem, to end the Grimm, because I couldn't live with their choices. They'd want me to protect as many people as I could."

Ruby smirked. "The sword is strongest as a shield."

Jaune chuckled. "You were listening in that night?"

"You weren't on great terms with Mordred back then. I was worried you might need help. Sorry, I never told you."

"It's fine," he told her. "What about you? Same thing?"

Ruby nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to bring everyone back too, but Archer talked me out of it. He was the one who first suggested I use it to wipe out the Grimm."

Jaune snorted. "I guess that guy's first resort is to kill stuff."

"Hey, that's in the past. Be nice," Ruby demanded.

"He literally _just_ tried to kill us!"

"But he didn't."

"Because you used magic, so he physically couldn't!"

"Nope," Ruby declared with a smile. "I said he couldn't hurt my _friends_. I didn't say anything about me."

Jaune opened his mouth to retort but paused before a word could leave his lips. In all the confusion, he hadn't realized she'd left that loophole.

Ruby continued to grin. "Archer didn't want to kill me, Jaune. I don't think he's ever wanted to kill anyone. And the moment he found a reason not to, he stopped. I'm not asking you to forgive him, but can you… you know…"

Jaune sighed. "I will do my best not to piss him off."

"Thank you!"

"Somehow I don't think I'll be getting the same courtesy," he grumbled.

"You won't," Ruby confirmed. "He doesn't really care about that stuff." A mischievous smirk spread across her face. "He was friends with your mom in another timeline."

"What?" Jaune sputtered. His mother would not have tolerated someone with his mouth. She would have smacked over the head within a minute. "No. No way."

"Yes way," Ruby said in a sing-song voice. "I saw it in his memories."

Jaune groaned. "Great. Just great. First Ozpin, now…"

He sighed, his energy spent. He was surprised his mom was friends with so many mysterious types, but it didn't really bother him all that much. He just wished she was still there to help him understand them.

Ruby put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "How are you dealing with that? With Ozpin being Merlin?"

"That?" Jaune recalled the stories mom told him of King Arthur's mentor. The great wizard Merlin. Or as she described him…

"He certainly is a wily old man," he mused. "But, he's on our side. Heck, he's pretty much the only reason there's still a humanity to save. I still need to find out exactly what went down with Pyrrha at Beacon though."

He remembered his partner's distress before the Fall. His mom had assured him she would deal with it, but he had no idea if anything had ever actually come of that before everything went to hell. Ozpin was the only survivor of the three of them and he would get answers from him.

Ruby nodded. "I get it. I've got some questions for him about my eyes as well." Said eyes lingered down to Excalibur, a new smile breaking out across her face. "So… are you going to try that thing out or what?"

Jaune raised the sword and stared at it in wonder. The azure leather hilt, the golden cross guard, the peerless shining blade, every detail was exactly as he remembered it from when he'd seen his mother's saber. And with its name at last, he knew what it was in her stories.

Excalibur. The Sword of Promised Victory. The greatest of all Holy Swords. In his youth, he had dreamt of it. Longed for the chance to chant its name and unleash its power on the wicked. To wield it as only a hero could.

Now… it did not feel right in his hand.

He set the blade against a tree. "I've already got a sword," he declared, patting Crocea Mors at his side.

Ruby's jaw dropped. "Well… yeah, I guess. But it's so beautiful! Who says you can't have two?"

"The fact that I don't know how to dual wield," Jaune reminded her. "Besides, there's more to that sword that just swinging it. If you're going to use its full power, it has to think you're worthy. And I'm not."

"That is true," Archer declared, materializing next to the two.

Both he and Ruby jumped back before his master whirled on him. "We know who you are now! Would you quit it with the mysterious enigma act!"

Archer smirked. "My apologies, master. I did not mean to frighten you."

The Servant of the Bow turned to Jaune, his expression for once respectful of the blond boy. "You are wise to set that blade aside, Jaune Arc. If it does not feel right in your hand, it is because it does not want to be in your hand. If you attempted to unleash its true name, it would not work."

"You make it sound like it's alive," Jaune snorted.

Archer shrugged. "Maybe not alive, but something close enough. Take it from someone who knows, any sword powerful enough to have a name that echoes through legend usually has some kind of consciousness to claim it."

Jaune glanced at the magnificent blade on the tree. Did it really think he wasn't worthy to wield it?

Did he disagree?

"Cheer up, Jaune," Ruby demanded. "Even if Excalibur wants to be picky, you're still on a roll. You unlocked your semblance and that super cool wind attack!"

"Hammer of the Wind King," he idly corrected. He raised his hands and smiled. He'd finally done it. All his hard work with Pyrrha finally paid off. He'd unlocked his semblance and it had let him save Ruby.

Wherever she was, he knew his partner was proud in that moment.

"How'd you do that by the way?"

Jaune smile dropped. "What?"

"The Hammer of the Wind King," Ruby elaborated. "How'd you use it?"

"Well, I… actually I have no idea."

Archer quirked an eyebrow. "Really? I thought it was obvious."

Jaune frowned. Obviously, it wasn't when he and Mordred had been trying to figure it out for weeks with no results.

Ruby sighed. "Archer, just tell us."

The Servant shrugged. "As you wish. Jaune Arc, what is your semblance?"

"Uh, well going off of the single time I've ever used it, I can give people my aura to strengthen theirs."

Archer nodded. "Precisely. Master informed me that you could transfer energy between your soul and another's."

"That's exactly what I just said," Jaune pointed. "What's your point?"

"That what can be given can often also be taken."

Jaune blinked. "Come again?"

Archer raised his hand and flashed his white short sword into existence. A moment later, he willed it away. " _Prana_ , aura, the container of a Servant, it is all the same energy, just applied differently. Your semblance allows you to access the very recesses of that energy in another's soul and either reinforce or extract it. Along with all the skills that person possesses. Why do think you were able to boost Ruby's semblance?"

"That's crazy," Jaune declared. He didn't… he couldn't… he didn't eat aura! That was monstrous. To rip out someone's semblance, their very being, who knew what that could do. No. He'd never do that. He couldn't do that.

Ruby looked at him worriedly. "Jaune…"

He kept himself focused on Archer. "And even if it wasn't, how does that explain me having Strike Air at all?"

Archer stared him straight in the eye. "Admittedly, it is just a theory. But it is the only explanation I can conceive, and it can easily be confirmed with a single question."

"Oh yeah. What?"

"Where were you when your mother died?"

Jaune stopped cold. "I was in her arms. Then she started fading away into dust and… some of it flew into me."

Oh gods… what had he done?

He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Jaune," Ruby insisted. "You didn't know, and she was dying anyway. And if you hadn't, Berserker would have killed us all."

"I absorbed my mother's soul. No wonder the sword hates me."

Archer shrugged. "That's probably not the reason. If anything, having some of her essences in you would improve its opinion of you."

"You think this is funny?!" Jaune roared.

Archer shook his head and stared him hard in the eye. "Not in the slightest. But what's done is done. You have Strike Air now, though probably not much else. You probably only had a moment to try to hold onto her before she faded back to the throne and Noble Phantasms are more than a Servant's soul. They're part of their legend. You could never claim those with your power alone."

Jaune barely heard him. He panted hard, his breath ragged and quick. He remembered the night of the Fall, Mom around him, coated in silver. She started disappearing and he'd wanted to hold on, he wanted her to stay. He wanted so badly for her to stay.

And he'd taken part of her soul. What kind of a monster was he?

"Jaune. Jaune!"

Ruby shook him wildly and forced him to look at her, her silver eyes filled with worry. "What did we just talk about? Blaming yourself will not help! You had no idea you'd even unlocked your semblance then. And you used it to save me now. Arturia would be proud."

"Proud…" he muttered. "How could she be proud of someone who steals other people's powers?"

He felt another hand on his shoulder, but this one was far too big to be Ruby's.

"She would not judge you," Archer declared with certainty. "The King of Knights was many things, but she would not judge you for using the only skill you had. There is no shame in standing on the legends of others. Your sword is proof enough of that."

"Excalibur isn't—"

"I didn't say Excalibur. I said _your_ sword."

Jaune paused and gazed at Crocea Mors strapped to his waist. The formerly pure white sheath now inlaid with orange and gold. The remains of his first teacher.

"Pyrrha."

Archer nodded. "Take it from someone who can only copy the legends of others. If you fight their fight, the battle they gave their lives for, then you do not shame them. You honor them."

Jaune gripped the hilt of his blade. He couldn't save his mother or Pyrrha. He couldn't wield Excalibur, at least not yet, maybe not ever.

But he still had what they gave him. The skills, the training…

And if he could preserve, the will to do what's right.

He knew what Archer was doing. By instilling the idea of honoring his fallen loved ones in his head, he was making sure that he would wish for Salem's destruction if he got the grail.

But… he also seemed to be trying to help.

He looked the Servant in the eyes, silver steel staring back at him. He wasn't sure if he could forgive him for what he nearly did to Ruby, at least not yet. But, he could work with him.

He'd have to with what they were up against.

He gave the man a slight nod of gratitude. Archer returned it in kind.

Ruby smiled, but then turned to Archer with a curious expression. "What do you mean you copy legends? I thought you made weapons."

"I can make weapons," the hero confirmed. "But Unlimited Bladeworks copies more than just their make. It also replicates their history, the experiences of their user. If it didn't, I wouldn't know how to use half of them."

Ruby pouted. "Really? Why didn't you copy my experience when you made Crescent Rose, then? Your footwork was really sloppy in there."

Jaune decided not to mention that his sloppy footwork at that junction of the fight was probably one of the only reasons she was alive. Mostly because he was distracted by the heavy frown that crossed Archer's face.

"I was unable to copy your experience from Crescent Rose," the bowman eventually said.

"Huh? Why?" Ruby inquired.

Archer rubbed his chin in thought. "I don't know. I have immense difficulty with firearms, but the bladed form should have been simple, as its construction was. It is… disconcerting, to say the least."

Ruby put a hand on her sheathed scythe, her expression one that someone would wear if they heard their child might have cancer. To her, who spent months painstakingly crafting Crescent Rose, it was probably a similar situation.

Jaune split his gaze between Crocea Mors and Excalibur. They had answers for the first time in a long time.

But the questions just didn't seem to stop coming.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

_It was the sun that woke her._

_It shined down on her eyes and deprived her of the darkness of sleep. She growled and regretfully opened her eyes to behold the empty bed._

_…_

_Empty?_

_Her mind immediately woke up and she shot up onto her arms, the sheets wrapping around her naked form. She fervently scanned the room, idly noting the discarded tuxedo and ruined wedding dress scattered across the floor._

_What was he? Wasn't the whole point of this marriage thing so that she didn't have to wake up alone or with Qrow's foot in her mouth? Where was the piece of—_

_The door to the room was kicked open and Tai walked in, his hands filled with a tray piled high with waffles._ _Her eyes widened, and her mouth watered._

_-Perfect man with beautiful food._

_The blonde bastard smiled warmly as he sat down on the bed. "Hope you don't mind me not being here when you woke up. I figured you'd be hungry after everything we did last night. Don't you think, Mrs. Branwen?"_

_She raised an eyebrow. "Am I still a Mrs. if I'm keeping my name?"_

_Tai shrugged. "No clue. But I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter."_

_"Fair enough."_

_She leaned over the tray and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. It felt strange, but she enjoyed being able to do that with him. She didn't have to be strong or dominate him with lust. He loved her, and she loved him. And that was enough._

_Also, if she had to spend any more time on anything other than those waffles then she was going to murder someone._

_She tore the tray out of his hand and started devouring the delectable pastries. Her boyf—husband chuckled merrily at her display._

_At least, until he spotted it._

_"Hey, Rae, what's that on your hand?"_

_She stopped eating for a moment and cocked an eyebrow at him. "What?"_

_"On your right hand. Did you have that last night?"_

_She raised her hand and her eyes widened at the sight of three red marks in the shape of a wing painted across her skin._

_"What the hell?" she muttered. "Where did this come from?"_

_"Did you and Summer paint it on during your bachelorette party?"_

_"No. And if we did, someone would have seen it at the wedding" she pointed out. "We've got to take a moment and think. Wild theories won't help right now."_

_A scroll on the nightstand started buzzing incessantly. She snarled at the annoyance but picked it up. "Hello."_

_"Oh, that's so adorable, you're answering each other's scrolls—"_

_"Summer!" she growled, reminding herself to check whose device she picked up next time. "You promised not to call during the honeymoon."_

_"I know Rae, and I'm really sorry about this but I've got a really important question I needed to ask Tai."_

_She sighed, reminding herself that yes, this was her best friend. "What is it?"_

_"Well, I guess you'd know too… alright. Did you guys draw on me and Qrow after we got drunk last night?"_

_Steam almost came out of her nostrils. She would never bother with something so childish and she made sure Tai was with her the entire night. "No. We didn't."_

_"Oh, great… just great," Summer chuckled nervously. "Because me and Qrow have got these weird red marks on our hands that we don't remember being there last night and Ozpin called this morning asking if we felt some kind of shockwave and—"_

_"Wait. Red marks? On the back your hand?" she interjected immediately._

_She could practically hear Summer frown on the other end. "Yeah. How did you know it was the back of the hand?"_

_She stared at her own markings with newfound worry. "Because I've got them too."_

_"What?" Summer squealed in terror. "What about Tai? Does he—"_

_"No. He's clean."_

_"Okay. Good. That's good," Summer declared, breath slowing down. "Okay. Qrow's gone to talk to Ozpin, and when he gets back we can start figuring this out."_

_"Do you want me to come over—"_

_"No! You and Tai are a beautiful newlywed couple and you shall have a perfect HONEYMOON! Now go and love each other, Bye!"_

_The other side of the line clicked off and a dial tone sounded through the air. She sighed and set the scroll back on the dresser._

_"That bad, huh?" Tai joked._

_She shook her head mirthfully. "Apparently Summer and Qrow have these things as well, whatever they are. They said they'll look into how they showed up."_

_The blond man's brow furrowed. "Should we head over to help them?"_

_"Our fearless leader has vetoed that option," she informed him. "She commanded that we, and I quote, 'Go and love each other'."_

_Tai grinned and leaned in. "Well, if our team leader says so…"_

_She put a finger to his lips. "Settle down, Great Sun Dragon. I'm finishing the waffles before I finish you."_

_Tai snorted to the side but chuckled merrily. "You're no fun."_

_"No, I'm patient. Besides, why rush? We're married now. I've got you all to myself for the rest of our lives."_

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Raven tightened her grip on her sword as she watched over Tai's hospital bed. Several bags of morphine were hooked up to his unconscious form, and even then, he shivered in his slumber.

When she had felt his aura suddenly wink out all at once through their connection, she had been stunned. He was on Patch. Nothing happened on Patch, certainly not anything that a huntsman of his caliber couldn't handle easily.

Then she felt it flicker back to life in a way that was just… _wrong_. Unnatural and inversed somehow. She'd only ever known one thing that could mutilate aura to such a degree and when she jumped through her portal, she'd prayed to be wrong.

She wasn't.

The Origin Round worked off the principle of cutting and tying. When it struck the mystery of a normal mage, it supposedly tore the magic circuits apart and then immediately pulled them back together in an unsalvageable mess, the process wrecking the nervous system along the way. The more powerful the mystic code struck, the greater the damage.

But with a huntsman it was even worse. It wasn't good for magic circuits to be severed, but they were at least isolated streams of magic. Aura was an encompassing force surrounding and filling the body. It could be broken, but in that case, everything just went down until it could recover. If part of it fell away, the rest of it rushed in to try to heal the user. But that just got it caught up in the tying aspect of the attack.

Tai's aura was irreparably mangled, continuously trying to heal him, but so distorted that it caused him constant agony instead. The doctors had tried to use one of their specialists' pain-relieving semblances to help, but the meager amount the woman had been able to extract had nearly put her in a coma herself. They'd been forced to sedate him completely and nearly overdose him on morphine just to keep his heart from giving out under the strain.

"You stupid idiot," Raven muttered.

She shouldn't have even been there. The strong live and the weak die, that was the way of the world. Anyone who said otherwise was a fool. Tai got himself into this mess. She shouldn't have cared. She certainly shouldn't have abandoned her assault on Qrow and Ozpin for it, even with the masters' mysterious disappearance. She should have noted the loss of a portal connection, and then moved on.

And yet, here she was watching over his hospital bed, praying that by some miracle he would wake up. As if he wouldn’t reject her the moment he laid eyes on her.

That was fair. She had left him without a word a short time after Yang was born. Of all her teammates, he was the only one she hadn't spoken to since returning to the tribe. Qrow because he was able to track her down, and Summer…

Tai could have his anger. He deserved that much at least.

Qrow could try to fight Ozpin's war. She already knew it was futile.

Summer…deserved so much more. What happened was her mistake. It wouldn't happen again.

She felt Berserker's attempts at comfort from his spirit form. They were like getting a pat on the back from a forklift, but the intent was benign. The giant didn't like seeing broken families, she could tell that much.

Still, her husband's shattered form awoke some long-buried sentimentality within her. She reached out and took his hand in hers, his familiar warmth heightened by his body's constant shivering.

He was going to die. Even with the doctors' best efforts, his body could only hold out against such constant agony for so long. A year, maybe two if he was strong.

So, two.

Raven felt a wetness begin to gather in her eyes. "I did what I had to do, Tai. Ozpin wasn't going to beat Salem. So, I had to. I thought I knew how, but I couldn't risk you, and you wouldn't have let me do it alone if you knew what I was going after. I asked Summer for help against my better judgment and all it did was put her in his sights. I wanted her to come with me, but she wouldn't leave you. And then, he found her and killed her."

She took a deep breath and blinked away the tears she refused to shed. "I can't save you," she declared. "There's only one wish. And I have to use it to fix my mistake. I have to bring her back, Tai. She deserves so much more."

The huntress made to go when suddenly Tai's grip turned into a vice. She darted her gaze to his face. His eyes were still closed but his head had swiveled in her direction.

"Assassin. Kiritsugu Emiya. Kirei—"

He couldn't push out any more of a whisper before darkness claimed him once more, his astronomical will spent.

Raven sat in shock. Kiritsugu Emiya. Summer's father, the creator of the Origin Rounds, had been summoned as a Servant. And Kirei Kotomine, the mage who had attacked Yang and served Gilgamesh was his master. It certainly explained Tai's condition.

She would need to reconsider her plans. Before she had thought she might be able to sneak around and avoid Gilgamesh's eye, but now that she knew he had a master in play, along with one of the most dangerous men she'd ever heard of as a Servant…

She couldn't just blunder around and count on her Berserkers to steamroll everything in her path. She needed intelligence, she needed…

Knowledge.

Yes. That might work.

"Rider, slow down!" a familiar voice shouted from the hall.

But first.

Raven rose to her feet as the door to the room slammed open. The large red-haired man she'd seen riding the chariot strode into the room, followed by a very familiar blonde girl.

"Finally," Yang shouted. "Now would you please explain what the hell you're—"

The girl's violet eyes froze when she saw Raven, her jaw hung limp in mid-speech.

Berserker wanted to manifest against the Rider, but Raven waved him off. It wouldn't do to annihilate a possible ally.

Instead, she smirked at her daughter. "Hello, Yang. We've got a lot to talk about."


	36. Confrontations with Elders

Yang wasn't sure how much more she could take.

After everything that happened at the house, she and Rider had barely managed to get her dad to the hospital in time. The doctors had struggled to stabilize him for hours, when all she could do was sit outside the room and pray, powerless once more. The nurses had assumed Rider was her guardian, but they still asked if there was anyone she wanted them to call.

Like who? Everyone close to her had left or was fighting for their life on an operating table.

Thankfully, Iskandar had advised her to call someone ("a commander must alert their allies when they are vulnerable!"), so she used the hospital line to call Doctor Oobleck in Vale. He, Professor Port, and surprisingly Miss. Goodwitch had all come over immediately.

Despite everyone being shocked by Rider, they had all made to comfort her as soon as possible. Oobleck had gone to the house, or whatever was left of it, to look for Zwei, who had been left behind in the confusion. Port had taken to drinking with Iskandar, partly to keep both of their jovial attitudes from upsetting her and partly because the two men hit it off instantly despite the situation.

Which left her staring at the red flame shaped marks on her right hand, the only one to comfort her the person she used to fear above all others. Oh, how she longed for the days where her biggest worry was Professor Goodwitch reading her the riot act in combat class.

Her former teacher grimaced at the Command Seals. "Do you know what those mean?"

Yang nodded. "Yeah. I'm part of the war. Just like Ruby and Kirei."

"Indeed. I am sorry."

She said it like she was pronouncing a death sentence.

Eventually, the doctors came out and told them her dad would live. That was the only bit of good news.

Whatever Kirei had done had warped his aura, so much so that it caused him excruciating agony just by existing. The doctors had never seen anything like it. They didn't even know where to start fixing him.

One year. That's how long they said his heart could hold out under the stress and that was only if he was kept sedated for the majority of the time. Any waking moment would only cause him agony.

Her father, who had stood by her when everyone else had left her behind, was already dead. His heart just hadn't stopped beating yet.

And all Yang could do was cry.

Suddenly, Iskandar shimmered into existence in front of her. He had a look of worry on his face for a moment before he saw her and sighed in relief. "Ah, master. Thank Olympus, you are alright."

"That's debatable" she muttered.

Goodwitch glared at the Servant. "Don't go in and out of spirit form in a public place, you fool. The war is supposed to be a secret."

Iskandar grinned widely. "There is no Mage's Association in this time, is there not? If so, I see no reason to withhold the illustrious presence of either myself or my fellow heroes from this world. The people shall behold our infinite majesty and glorious battles, and through them, know wonder!"

Yang sighed. "If you think that'll work, why don't you go look for another one to bother?"

"No need. There's another Servant in that room."

Yang's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

Iskandar was pointing to dad's room.

"Onward!" he declared with a huge grin, rushing down the hall.

"Rider, slow down!"

He kicked the door to the hospital room wide open and charged in. Yang stumbled after him, the stress of the night making even the short sprint a marathon.

"Finally, now would you please explain what the hell you're—"

Her speech died when she saw what was actually in the room. Or rather, who.

Standing over dad's bed was a tall woman with red eyes and black hair even longer than Yang's own. A massive sword sheath was strapped to her side.

Yang recognized her instantly. After all, for over a decade, she had dreamed of finding her.

Raven Branwen.

Her mother.

She was here.

She was here to help.

She was here too late.

She abandoned them.

She had the gall to smirk.

"Hello, Yang. We've got a lot to talk about."

The one Ember Celica on her arm deployed. Yang's eyes narrowed viciously, their irises barely staying purple. She went through every breath exercise dad had drilled into her, desperate to keep them that way. Even with Iskandar, she had a feeling this wasn't a fight she could win.

Raven cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Speechless?"

"Perhaps she has nothing to say to those who abandon their families" Goodwitch snarled as she entered. "What are you doing here, Raven?"

"Hello to you too, Glynda."

"What do you want?" Yang growled out.

Raven sighed. "Would you believe me if I said I was worried about your father?"

After all this time? "No."

"Thought not. Even still, it's the truth. It's not every day you feel aura meet an Origin Round. He did tell you what an Origin Round is, right? A magic bullet that can warp your aura into your worst enemy."

Yang's eyes flickered to her father's unconscious form. "Not too hard to figure out."

"Perhaps not." Raven looked to Iskandar and grinned, almost looking proud. "I've got to say, I'm impressed. Summoning a Servant can be difficult at the best of times, yet you did it without even trying. Your strength is astounding."

How did she know the summoning was unintentional? She hadn’t been… Or if she had…

And hadn’t done anything.

Yang felt her eyes blaze crimson.

"Indeed, it is" Iskandar declared, sweeping his arm to pat her on the back, shattering her rage. "I heard my master's boundless determination cry out for life. Even within the depths of… the Throne? Was that where I was? Bah, what does it matter? I am here now, and I shall claim the Holy Grail and conquer this new world!"

Yang could do nothing but blink for a few moments. Did he just say he wanted to conquer the world?

Amazingly, both Goodwitch and Raven shared her shock, their eyes wide and their mouths trying and failing to come up with a response.

"World conquest?" Raven said at last. "That's your wish for the grail?"

"What? No!"

"But you just said—"

"I said I would conquer the world!" the Rider stated vehemently. "As if I would ever let some cup do the conquering. I need it only to provide me with a body of flesh and blood. I can take care of the rest. Speaking of which…"

He threw his arms out wide, his cape expanding grandiosely behind him, propelled by some impossible breeze. Or maybe just his will.

"What say you of yielding the Holy Grail to me and joining my glorious and invincible army! You shall be treated as an honored ally, friend, and brother-in-arms! Together we shall share in the glory of battle and the joy of world conquest!"

He could have told them he was actually Salem herself and they would have been less shocked. All three women could only stand and stare at the absurdity of the fool.

And fight back the sliver of their minds that somehow believed he could actually do it.

A massive being shimmered into existence in front of Raven, his ragged head and rippling shoulders breaking the ceiling lights above. He growled at Iskandar.

The Rider merely widened his grin. "Oh, you're welcome to join me as well, big fellow. You look to be a fine warrior."

The giant tried to raise the massive stone sword in his hand, but Raven closed her fist. "Hold, Berserker. We're not here to fight." She glared at Iskandar. "He seems to think you're a threat."

"I should hope so. The foolish don't last long in my army."

Raven chuckled at that, a reluctant smirk growing on her face. "Fools do not last long anywhere."

She turned to Yang, her expression smug once more. "I suppose you have questions."

The blonde brawler narrowed her eyes at Berserker. "You're a master?"

"Obviously."

"Are you going to kill me?"

Raven's eyes widened in shock. "No. Never."

Goodwitch glared at her, her riding crop tight. "Pardon us if we find that hard to believe coming from a bandit."

"Tell me Glynda, how is it that Ozpin failed so utterly and yet you are still so dedicated to being his bitch," Raven remarked. "I went back to the tribe because I was tired of fighting his war. A war he _knows_  we cannot win."

She turned back to Yang. "This Holy Grail War is more dangerous than you could imagine. Both Salem and Gilgamesh are after the wish granter. The men who attacked your father, Kirei Kotomine and Kiritsugu Emiya, they are but the King of Heroes' minions. You wouldn't last—"

"The King of Heroes is a part of this war?" Iskandar interrupted.

Raven raised an eyebrow at being interrupted. "Yes. But you wouldn't—"

"Excellent!" Iskandar cheered. "What joyous news!"

"You know this guy?" Yang inquired.

"Indeed. We took part in a wondrous clash in the Fourth Holy Grail War," Iskandar explained. "He is a truly momentous opponent."

"Did… did you win?" Raven asked desperately. Her harsh voice was tinged with a hint of… hope?

Unfortunately, Iskandar shook his head. "No. Sadly, his toys did me in. Shame. I was _this_ close."

Raven's face dropped. "I see. I suppose he wouldn't be here now if he'd lost."

"It is of no matter," Iskandar claimed, his grin splattered on his face. "It will just make my final victory over him all the sweeter."

Raven scowled and turned back to Yang. "If you fight in this war, you will die. But if you give me your Command Seals, I can use your Servant to defeat them and claim the grail."

"How would you support another Servant?" Goodwitch gestured to the hulking man. "That doesn't look like your last Berserker. Providing enough aura for two must be draining you dry as it is. How do you plan to support three?"

"I have my ways," Raven replied ominously.

Iskandar scratched his beard. "Two Berserkers? Hmm, to command them both through their madness… is impressive. I would be proud to fight beside such warriors."

Raven preened at the praise.

"However," Iskandar continued. "My loyalty is with my master. And having called me to this battle with her will only, she will not yield me to—"

"This Holy Grail," Yang interrupted. "Can it really do anything?"

Raven nodded. "Anything you've ever dreamed of."

"Can it heal him?" Yang demanded, her finger stuck straight at her father.

"It… can," Raven informed her hesitantly.

"But you won't."

"No. I have another wish. One that he'd support me going after."

"One he'd support? That's… That's… Haha… Hahaha… Hahahaha!"

Yang burst out laughing, but not the warm flame she usually did. This was the crackling dissonance of a dying spark, harsh and scarring when it struck.

"How would you know what the hell he'd support?" she demanded. "How do you know what he cares about? You haven't talked to him for eighteen years! You don't know him! And you sure as hell don't get to come in here and try to use him to get something from me!"

Raven put a hand on the hilt of her sword. "So, you're refusing my generous offer? You're going to compete in the war? Against your friends? Against your sister?"

Yang's fist closed so tightly her knuckles turned white. "If you threaten Ruby again, I swear I will crush your skull."

"Believe me, Yang. The last thing I want is that _girl_ dead."

Raven drew her sword. Both Yang and Goodwitch raised their guards, but Iskandar held his arm out in front of them and shook his head.

"You're leaving then, Master of Berserker?" the Rider inquired.

Raven nodded. "I understand your master has been through a great deal recently. I will give her time to come to her senses. In a few days, I shall return for your final answer."

She slashed the air and a swirling crimson portal appeared in the room. Berserker dissipated into blue dust and faded through the distortion.

Raven took one last look at Yang. "You do no one any good by joining this fight, Yang. Make the right choice."

She jumped through the portal and disappeared.

Yang let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. All those years of wanting to meet her mother, somehow it never crossed her mind that she wouldn’t like what she found.

But now she had, and she felt just as empty as she had before.

Just as purposeless. Just as lost.

Just as broken.

Discarded.

Alone.

A titanic slap on the back drove her to her knees.

"HAHAHAHA!" Iskandar boomed. "A marvelous declaration, master. Truly wonderful."

Yang wheezed from his slap. "Glad you think so."

Miss Goodwitch came over and helped her up. "You poked an Ursa, Yang. Your mother, despicable she may be, is more than capable of backing up her threats. That said, if you are going to participate in the war, Bartholomew, Peter, and I will gladly take care of your father—"

"No," Yang declared sharply.

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. "No? Master, did you not just—"

"I said I'm not giving you to her," she elaborated. "That doesn't mean I'm going to run off to fight in some battle to the death."

She gazed at her father. Tears welling in her eyes.

"I can't just abandon him when he's like this. He didn't leave me alone. I can't leave him alone."

"But Yang, your sister—" Goodwitch started.

"Ruby will be fine," Yang refuted to her old teacher. "She's got Qrow, and Blake, and Jaune, and a Servant of her own. She's got everything she needs."

She looked down at her stomach, where Kirei struck to put her in a coma. "Not like my help would do her any good."

"Yang, what happened to your father was not your fault."

The blonde brawler didn't respond.

"Master," Iskandar began thoughtfully, his scarlet eyes hard and focused. "Do you truly have no desire to seek the Holy Grail? No drive to go forth and face the other Servants in magnificent battle?"

Yang gulped under the pressure of his stare, his eyes baying like a Beowolf out for blood.

Nonetheless, she mustered all her will and nodded resolutely.

Just like that, the pressure evaporated from Iskandar's face, his huge merry grin returning in full force. "Very well. If you are not ready, then we shall wait to move out. Peter has offered to put us up until your domicile is rebuilt. He says he has _Kingdoms of Remnant: The Great War_ on console. I'm going to obliterate him in versus mode. You're always welcome if you feel up for a round."

With that, the King of Conquerors disappeared in a sapphire mist.

Yang collapsed next to her father's bed, her emotions spent for the day.

Goodwitch put a hand on her shoulder. "Yang, you're stronger than you think you are. I understand believing you can do nothing in the face of our enemies, but—"

"No offense, Professor, but I supremely doubt you do" Yang spat out. "I've faced Kirei twice now, and he's crushed me both times. All I can do now is take care of dad or go to Ruby and get her killed along with him."

Glynda stopped talking for a moment. She removed her glasses, allowing Yang to see her emerald eyes clearly for the first time. They were as intimidating as always, but also kinder.

"I had a sister too, you know," she revealed. "Ellie and I came into Beacon together and drew Ozpin's attention enough to be brought into his circle upon our graduation. Eventually, Ellie was chosen for a great honor and responsibility."

"What? Was she head of some combat school?"

"The Summer Maiden."

Yang's eyes widened in horror. "You mean… the last war?"

"Yes," Glynda nodded. "Kirei and Gilgamesh killed her to start the Fifth Holy Grail War. I was powerless, away attending your parents' wedding. They killed her and until all this began, I didn't even know their names."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I have… learned to live with it. But I don't want you to have to. Yang, unlike me, you are a master. You have a Servant that is more than willing to fight by your side, even if he is a bit… odd. Your father would not want you to languish in doubt when your sister needs your help. And if she dies, and you weren't there to at least try to help her, you will never forgive yourself."

"I'll forgive myself even less if joining her is what gets her killed," Yang countered. "Ruby's charging towards her dream. So are Blake and Weiss. All I'll do is slow them down or trip them up."

"That's Kirei talking."

Yang snorted. "Funny thing about the bastard. For all he pretended to be our friend, he never lied."

Goodwitch put her glasses back on. "That doesn't mean he was right."

She left the room.

And Yang was alone once again, awash in a dreamless sea.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Ruby strode up the hilltop, the charred cabin as dreary as ever.

In the center of the ruin, Ozpin sketched large, complex circles into the black wood with his cane. As the tip of the staff passed across the floor, a shining emerald light blazed to life, creating symbols similar to the clockwork patterns from his office at Beacon.

Ruby stood outside the burnt remains, her red hood flapping in the wind.

Ozpin finished his current circle and sagged down, leaning heavily on his cane, his breaths labored and heavy.

"Are you okay?" Ruby asked worriedly.

Ozpin managed to give her a reassuring smile, his eyes so much older than the face they resided within. "Thank you for your concern, Miss Rose. I will be fine. This magecraft is complex, but I've done worse. I just need to be careful not to hurt Oscar's body. Four months is hardly an ideal amount of time to acclimate to magic circuits."

"Do you need to rest? I can come back later."

Ozpin shook his head. "No. In a grail war, you never know what could happen, and you cannot afford to be caught unaware again."

"Alright. If you're sure," Ruby closed her eyes to prepare herself and then opened them once more, her gaze resolute.

"Tell me about the silver eyes."

Ozpin limped over to the grass and took a seat. "Like I told you before, when the corruption battled Gaea, Alaya, the Beast of Humanity, was wounded tremendously. But she did not go gently. When she fell, she infused multiple souls with the barest fractions of the Counter Force, specially modified to remain with them when they reincarnated through the Root— a metaphysical plane that among other things is where souls pass through to be born and return when they die" He explained quickly when she raised her hand.

"As Archer may have told you, the Counter Force is one of the potent sources of magic in existence. To ensure that it did not burn up the souls it was fused with, Alaya not only had to use the barest portion of portions, but she had to… limit it, if you will. Focus the power so that it could only harm those it needed to- Servants… and the Grimm. The Maidens are also affected due to their power coming from me, but too separate to share my immunity."

"Huh?" Ruby quirked an eyebrow. "They only affect Grimm and Servants? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ozpin replied. "Why?"

"Well, during the attack at Amity Coliseum, my eyes activated against a Griffon. I turned it to dust, but I also demolished the stands behind it."

"Really?" Ozpin rubbed his chin in thought. "That is unheard of. Though from what Qrow has told me of the events at Beacon, your eyes are already the most powerful I've ever seen. Even at her best, your mother would have struggled to break through Rank A magic resistance."

"What?" Stronger than her mother? Was that even possible? "I can't be that impressive. I mean, I blacked out when they activated at the tower."

Ozpin's eyes narrowed. "Yes. That is disconcerting. Your eyes are not supposed to be so potent as to overwhelm you like that. Your body likely forced you into unconsciousness to cut off their power before they started to tear you apart at a cellular level."

"Oh," Ruby muttered. "That would be bad. Very bad."

"Indeed. Which is why we need to find a way for you to control how much power you send out at a time."

Ruby scratched her chin in thought, remembering the times she had used her eyes. Obviously, the incident at the tower was unhelpful, but the others…

"When Archer was fighting Berserker, he was losing. He was on the ground, Berserker was about to kill him and… I was back at the tower, powerless to save anyone I cared about. Crescent Rose, my weapon, didn't matter, because I didn't matter. And… I didn't want to be powerless again. Then, the same silver light flooded my head, but it was softer than at Beacon. It latched itself onto Crescent Rose and let me hurt Berserker."

Ozpin hummed. "It is said that a weapon is an extension of one's soul. It is possible that your body reacted to ensure that the events of the Fall did not repeat themselves. Thus, instead of unleashing your power in a single burst, it bonded a more manageable amount onto your scythe."

"Yeah, and it still messed me up so much Berserker nearly killed me a second later," Ruby scoffed.

Ozpin sighed. "They are like a muscle. The more you practice with them, the easier it will become to use them."

Ruby scratched her head in embarrassment. "Tiny problem. My eyes have only ever activated when my friends were in imminent danger. As in, literally about to die-danger. How am I supposed to practice them if they won't trigger for anything else?"

"What activates the eyes is different for every warrior," Ozpin detailed. "The first one I met shouted a battle cry. Another ate a special herb. There was one a few centuries ago that could only activate his abilities after a forty-five-minute massage. He, unfortunately, did not fare well in combat."

"What did my mom do?" Ruby inquired.

"Your mother?" A fond smile spread across Ozpin's face. "She recited a code phrase in her mind. It took her forever to figure it out, hours of mediation to discover the right words. Especially once she had to recite it through all her blade clones at once."

Ruby frowned. "What was the phrase?"

Ozpin sighed. "Do I really need to tell you, Miss Rose?"

The red reaper shook her head.

_"Thus Kindly I Scatter."_

Ozpin nodded. He closed his eyes for a few brief seconds before forcing them open again. "I must let Oscar retake control, so I can rest from the ritual. I suggest asking Archer for help finding out what your trigger is."

"Why? He told me he didn't know anything about the silver eyes?"

"That may be true, but he has experience with a similar issue." Ozpin grinned. "Or did you think 'Trace On' was just a habit?"

Ruby chuckled. "I suppose. Thank you, Professor Ozpin."

"Always, Miss Rose. Remember, if you ever have any questions, you need only ask."

The boy's eyes flared emerald. A moment later, Oscar shook his head. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that."

Ruby giggled. "You will, trust me. Six months ago, I was dealing with my teammate's anxiety over the Vytal Festival. Now I'm… well… doing this. Things change, and we work with the hand we're dealt." She smiled at Oscar. "Thank you, by the way. For coming to help us."

"That?" Oscar inquired confused. "Me showing up when I did was a matter of luck. You're the one who's been fighting a war. Compared to that, I haven't done anything."

"You left your home on the word of a voice in your head to help people you'd never heard of" Ruby pointed out. "I'd say that's something."

Oscar chuckled. "When you say it like that, I sound crazy."

"Most heroes do."

And so, the reaper and the farmhand sat in the grass at the top of a hill, for a brief moment, at peace.

Then the reaper heard her uncle's scythe unfurl from the shadows and figured it would be best for her new friend's health if she left. Qrow could be cranky when he wanted a spar and she needed to start training with Archer.

After all, peace never lasts long in the heart of a war


	37. The Weapon's Call

"This is shameful! A knight walks on their own two feet, not lumped over someone's back like a sack of potatoes!"

"Now Mor-Mor, we don't know how much _prana_ you can use when we're still so far away from Jaune, so we can’t have you wasting it willy-nilly when we don't have to."

"Then why is he carrying you, my lady?"

"Because silly, Ren loves giving me piggy-back rides! Don't you, Renny?"

Ren sighed, but he couldn't prevent the pleased smirk that came to his lips. "I have become accustomed to the practice."

"Exactly! Also, I can't feel my legs."

"I can feel mine!"

Blake shook her head at Mordred and Nora's banter. Both women were carried on the backs of the boys of the party, Nora gleefully atop Ren while Mordred was reluctantly shouldered by Sun, both piggyback style. Mordred was convinced into the matter for the sake of conserving as much _prana_ as possible, both by avoiding the admittedly minor strain of walking and by remaining in her civilian ensemble, capped off by Yang's brown duster. She had offered to go into spirit form, but they were unsure what would happen so far away from Jaune.

And with Raven and Adam still out there, they couldn't take the risk.

Nora had been all for carrying Mordred herself, but she had collapsed a bit later. With the adrenaline out of her system, her muscles were buckling under the strain from Mordred's lightning. A human body, even one augmented by aura, simply wasn't meant to wield Servant level strength. The huntress' tissue was torn in multiple places, and though her aura could heal it in a few days, she still needed time to rest. Time which they did not have, so Ren offered to carry her.

Nora didn't seem too broken up about the situation.

The group trotted down the fog-ridden path forward, the landscape around them barren and the few trees within their sight bare and spindly.

The entire area put Blake on guard. Something wasn't right. Before they hit Shion, the towns of Anima had been, while not thriving, a relatively stable presence. Afterward, it was like stepping into another world, a lifeless hellscape. Not counting the participants of the fight at Oniyuri, the group hadn't seen another person for ages.

Something had wiped out the towns they should have been finding. The Grimm Ren mentioned at Oniyuri was certainly a possibility, but this close to Mistral, huntsmen would certainly have been sent to defeat the creature. Which meant they had failed to find it…

Or it had wiped them out.

For all their sakes, Blake hoped it was the former.

"Hey," Sun called back as Nora and Ren went ahead. "You okay? I know the stuff with Adam didn't go as well as you'd hoped."

"That bull guy? What were you hoping to get from him, steak?" Mordred taunted with a grin.

Blake sighed. She'd wanted so badly to think that Adam was back to himself, that he had finally returned to the boy she'd grown up with. He had put aside his bloodlust and saved her at Beacon. Lancer and Ilia both believed in his wish for the grail. She had wanted so badly to have been seeing the wrong things, just like she had with Yang at the Vytal Festival.

Instead, she was reminded that not all monsters were surrounded by black smoke. Some knew how to smile so they could slide in the knife.

"Forget about him," she growled. "I made myself see what I wanted to see. He's no better than he was when I left."

"Are you sure?"

Blake raised an eyebrow. "You aren't? You spent the entire time arguing with him."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, he is definitely not someone I would trust. I spent two minutes with the guy and I know that" Sun defended. "It's just… well…"

"Consider your next words carefully before you praise the fool who nearly had me murdered, monkey," Mordred snarled, her grip tightening on Sun's shoulder.

The boy winced. "He's a terrible person. I am not objecting to that in any way. The world would be a whole lot safer if he was locked up in some high-tech Atlas prison. But…"

"Stop stalling," Blake growled.

"He's still a person, alright. I know that's like saying the Beowolf only ate your leg instead of killing you but look at the rest of our enemies. Yang's bandit leader mom who was willing to kill her own brother. A psycho priest who works for the most dangerous hero ever. And the Mother of Grimm. I wouldn't want to be within a hundred miles of Adam on his best day, but compared to them, he's a saint. And if Saber and Archer's last fights are any indication, we need all the help we can get."

Mordred smacked over the back of his head, thankfully not at full power or he would have died. "I was fighting with a strained _prana_ link!"

"And who says you won't be next time we get attacked?" Sun countered. "No smart enemy is going to hit you when you're strong, and all of ours seem to be geniuses."

He had a point. After all, Adam had been willing to back off when she'd made her demands. She somehow doubted Raven would have done so if Qrow or Yang had done the same. Maybe if they could get him to believe them about Salem…

No. He already knew about Gilgamesh, and if that didn't convince him, she doubted much else could.

But Lancer believed in him…

Argh! What was wrong with her? She needed to focus.

"We'll keep our ears open," Blake declared. "If Adam wants an alliance, a real alliance, with us, we'll make our decision then. But we can't afford to waste any more effort reaching out to him. Not until we get to Mistral, at least, and even then, Ruby and Jaune should get the final say."

"Bah," Mordred spat. "We should just behead the bastard and be done with it. One less knife aimed at our backs. And I'll show Lancer that I'm greater than my father ever was."

Blake closed a fist at the threat to Lancer, but quickly shook herself free. She needed to find out what was doing this to her. She didn't even know the Servant's name, and yet every time he was mentioned she got weak in the knees. And not the embarrassed weak in the knees like when Mordred mentioned what she thought Merlin would be doing around Ruby. No, this was the _wet_ weak in the knees, the kind she got when she was reading _Ninjas of Love_ or had one of her dreams about Sun, old Adam, and sometimes Yang. Except this felt ten times more potent and it only got worse whenever she saw his face.

If she didn't fix this, she would be a liability when the group finally did confront Adam's party, either by being far too lenient in negotiations or paralyzed in combat. Or worse, what if her obsession became more important than her friends?

She shuttered at the thought of that hell.

"Woe, my faithful Ren," Nora called. "We have arrived at a… crossroads."

Blake and the others ran up to join Ren and Nora, finding the two gazing at a signpost with arrows pointing to various towns along two dirt roads. Nora looked down at Ren, her eyes wet with worry. Ren himself glared hard at the signpost, his hands visibly tightening as they held up his partner.

Sun, not noticing the two's turmoil, smiled at the path to the right. "That's the route to Mistral. We're almost there."

"It doesn't say how close we are," Ren pointed out. "And that path takes us through the mountains."

Blake frowned, glancing at the others' piggyback situation. "That climb might be difficult for you guys."

"We'll manage."

"If Ozpin gets the spell working while we're up there, the others might be teleported of a cliff."

"What about this place?" Mordred inquired, gesturing to a sign leading to the left. "Kuroyuri. What about there?"

Ren looked away. "That village was destroyed years ago."

Sun raised an eyebrow. "But if it takes us around the mountains, isn't it safer?"

"We can get over them before the spell begins and be closer to Mistral."

"But isn't it more important to be safe—"

"We just need to press on!"

Blake took a step back at Ren's outburst. She'd barely ever seen him speak more than one sentence at a time, let alone yell. What could cause him to lash out like that?

"Listen, you" Mordred growled. "I don't know what you're thinking, but you're not—"

"Mordred." Nora cut in. "Don't."

The Knight of Treachery immediately shut up.

Blake couldn't blame her. She'd seen Nora pancake crazy, driven to delusion by hot peppers, and even emotionally destroyed by Pyrrha's death. She had never seen her solemn.

It was the most frightened she'd ever been of the girl.

"We can split up," Nora suggested. "Ren and I can manage our way through the mountains while you guys go through Kuroyuri. The link for the spell is Avalon, so it should still work fine."

"Splitting up is what got us into this mess in the first place," Sun argued. "We can't risk it."

"Ren has climbed a King Taijitu while it was trying to eat him. He can handle a mountain, even with me," Nora assured them. "We'll be fine."

"Yeah, you will be," Mordred agreed, a hard gleam in her eyes. "Because we're not splitting up."

"Mordred—"

"Monkey, send a message to my master. Tell them to hold off activating the spell until we give the word. That should give us time to get over the mountains."

Nora blinked in shock. "Wait, you mean…"

"Master gave me orders to protect you two," Mordred declared. "And a knight does not abandon their charge."

She glanced suspiciously down the Kuroyuri route. "No matter what the difficulties."

Nora's eyes became wet with unshed tears. "Mor-Mor…"

"Thank you," Ren nodded in gratitude.

"Don't mention it, boy," Mordred replied. She turned to Blake. "You up for this, Belladonna?"

"Don't I get I say?" Sun protested.

"You're my mount. So, no."

Blake couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. "I can handle it. I'll watch you guys to make sure none of you fall."

Mordred nodded. "Good. Move out."

"Yes sir, King Mor-Mor!"

Mordred's face went flush immediately. "Wha- What?"

"What? You're giving orders like one, so I might as well call you one," Nora cheered. "Race you to the top! Run Renny!"

"What? Monkey! We cannot be beaten!"

"My name is Sun, not 'monkey'."

"Just charge! Why is my Riding Skill not working?"

“Because I’m not an animal!”

Blake laughed as the pairs dashed off into the distance. She'd keep an eye on them. She wouldn't let any of them fall.

She couldn't.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

"You sure about this, kiddo?" Qrow asked warily.

"I've got to learn how to control them some time, Uncle Qrow," Ruby reminded him. "Ozpin is resting and when he's ready to go, he'll need to focus on the spell, so we can join the others before something else happens. Archer is the only one who can teach me about this trigger phrase stuff."

"Summer told me a little about it."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "A little isn't enough right now and you know it. We're on the back foot as it is. If I can't figure out how to use my eyes without killing myself, we lose our best weapon against the other Servants."

Qrow grumbled, but she knew he was convinced, as much as he wished otherwise. "I get to be there whenever you're training, got it?"

Ruby nodded. "Got it."

She closed her eyes and reached out. _'Archer, can you—'_

_"Already here, master."_

Ruby smiled as her Servant appeared in physical form, a slight frown on his face. "Alright. You eavesdropped on my talk with Ozpin, right?"

"I may have heard a little," he confessed. "Though even if your power truly does come from Alaya, whatever assistance I can offer will be limited at best."

"Fan-freaking-tastic," Qrow muttered.

"At this point, I'll take what I can get," Ruby stated.

Archer nodded. "Very well. First, it's crucial for you to understand the concept. When a mage uses an aria, they do so to prompt their body into activating their magic circuits in a certain pattern. Sending _prana_ following through the system is not natural, so this memorization aids in the function. Often, the words themselves mean less than the feeling attached to them. A feeling radiating from the heart of your very being. Your soul itself."

"My soul?" Ruby mumbled putting a hand to her heart.

She knew that souls were real, her aura and semblance came from them obviously, but she didn't usually think of it in such an ethereal manner. The idea that she was not her body, but something else, something invisible and untouchable seemed a lot more spiritual than her average thoughts. That high concept stuff was Blake and Weiss’ territory.

"How do I know what words I'm looking for? Can I just pick any random poem and use that?" she inquired.

"You're not listening. The words don't matter," Archer reminded her. "The feeling is what's important, and even then, it will usually layer itself with more than just words. When I first began tracing, I had to say, 'Trace On' every time I projected for maximum results, but as I became more experienced I only had to imagine the firing of the hammer of a gun."

"I thought you sucked at making guns?"

"It's magic. It doesn't always make sense," Archer refuted. "Nonetheless, we at least have a starting point to work off of."

"What do you mean?" Qrow asked suspiciously. "What starting point?"

"She's already used her eyes three times before, hasn't she?" Archer pointed out. He turned to Ruby. "You need to relive those moments when your powers activated. Look past the events that triggered them and try to discern what happened within you when it happened. I'll monitor your mystical output, so you don't accidentally hurt yourself, or me."

Qrow growled in discontent, but in the end, looked to Ruby worriedly. "You sure about this, pipsqueak?"

Ruby paused for a moment and then nodded. "We need this power. And I need to know I can control it, that I won't kill anyone else I care about." She couldn’t let anyone else die like Arturia.

Qrow sighed. "Alright then. Be careful."

"Sit down and close your eyes," Archer instructed. "When you feel my hands on your head, think about what you were feeling when the eyes activated."

Ruby nodded and sat cross-legged on the soft grass. When she felt Archer's callused palms on her skull, she began.

_Archer threw her aside._

_Berserker's charge blasted her with a typhoon._

_Archer was smashed through a dozen tree trunks, cast helplessly on the ground._

_Berserker loomed over him, his massive stone sword raised._

_Archer was helpless._

_He was going to die._

_She had to save him._

_CHI-CHUN!_

_Crescent Rose unfurled._

_Silver light shined._

Was that it? The feeling of having to try to save him? Could the need of her Silver Eyes trigger their powers?

No. She and her friends had been in danger plenty of times without them going off.

She needed more.

Maybe the first time would provide clues.

_Chaos._

_Chaos everywhere._

_People screamed and yelled in terror. Crowds desperately rushed to escape the stadium._

_Pyrrha knelt in horror on the arena floor, catatonic in the face of what she'd done._

_The scrap that was once Penny was strewn across the field._

_A Griffon smashed through the dome of the coliseum. The winged demon charged down below, its talons primed to tear the young huntress apart._

_Jaune shouted._

_Pyrrha did not move._

_Ruby did._

_She slashed the Grimm's face._

_Pyrrha did not move._

_She was helpless._

_She was going to die._

_Ruby had to save her._

_CHI-CHUN!_

_Crescent Rose unfurled._

_#%@ &% &%#@$_

_Silver light shined._

"Master." Archer's voice was like a far-off shout, barely hearable in her meditation. "I've got something. Whatever you're doing, it's working."

"Your eyes are shining! Keep it up, kiddo!"

There was only one place left to look.

Her failure.

Her shame.

_Beacon Tower stood deceptively tall as hell raged all around it._

_Grimm marauded through the halls of the school, the monsters finally within their enemy's stronghold._

_Smoke billowed into the air, her weary body barely rising from the decimated courtyard._

_Weiss and Uncle Qrow limped among the rubble, their bodies sagging with exhaustion. The man in the black robes, Kirei, flew at them, magic coursing through his fists._

_By the stairs, the King of Knights embraced her son, desperately shielding him from the other._

_The King._

_He had other titles, but that was his truest adornment. Within his entire world, there was none that stood mightier than him._

_It must have been a lonely peak._

_Was there another, a friend who stood with him once?_

_Gold burst into being in the air behind him, wondrous weapons slowly edging themselves out of each. All aimed at those she loved._

_They were helpless._

_They were going to die._

_Ruby had to save them._

_CHI-CHUN!_

_Crescent Rose unfurled._

_#$ %! %l# %_

"RUBY STOP!"

Something madly shook Ruby. She instantly opened her eyes.

Uncle Qrow gripped her shoulders, desperately pushing her back and forth. His eyes were wide with terror.

"Ugh…" she groaned. "What is it?"

Qrow sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. Don't scare me like that, pipsqueak. Thought you were going to tear this whole place apart."

"What do you mean—"

Ruby's voice trailed off as she saw her surroundings, her jaw dropping to the ground. The trees surrounding the clearing had been annihilated. Not cut down or smashed like Berserker had done but flattened. The massive trunks that had once stood proudly had been crushed to splinters, with even the stumps reduced to rubble. She and Uncle Qrow sat in the middle of a crater.

"Did I—wait. Where's Archer?"

"Right here, master. Don't worry."

Ruby whirled around. Archer knelt at the edge of what was once the clearing, his arm raised before him as five layers of cracked pink energy faded away. The Servant dusted himself up and rose to his feet.

"I'll admit, I wasn't expecting nearly that much power," he admitted. "If I had stayed any closer, I don't know if Rho Aias could have held."

Ruby sighed in relief but was internally terrified at his words. She'd lost control, again. If Uncle Qrow hadn't snapped her out of it, she could have killed Archer. And judging by the crater she'd left, maybe Qrow too.

She couldn't be this powerful.

She shouldn't be this powerful.

No person should be.

"It's not your fault, kiddo" Qrow comforted her. "You were doing fine until the end there."

Archer nodded. "Indeed. The flow of magic within you was consistent and stable. Your eyes were glowing, but something triggered a surge."

"It was a word," Ruby declared. "There was some word running through my head. Or maybe two words? I'm not sure. I couldn't really make it out. But it was… powerful."

That seemed to be insufficient. The word wasn't just powerful, it was an awakening, a genesis of creation and destruction tearing apart her mind and the world around her. She hadn't completely believed Ozpin when he said her powers could kill her but now… killing her was the least it could do.

"Stay away from that word," Qrow suggested. "At least for now, until we get a better handle on this. Hell knows Summer's never did anything like this."

"What happened before the word?" Archer inquired. "Were there any sounds, any images?"

"No, not that I can—"

Ruby's eyes widened. She leaped to her feet and snatched her weapon of her belt. She hit the trigger for it to change forms.

CHI-CHUN!

Crescent Rose unfurled.

Ruby smiled. Of course, it was her baby. The sound of her weapon, the scythe-sniper rifle she made, unleashing itself to do what must be done. Students at Signal Academy all made their own weapons, and despite her many prototypes, it was Crescent Rose that she labored away for hundreds of hours to forge.

The sound of its mecha shift was the proof that it was with her. To save as many people as it could.

The sound of rising to the call of heroism.

What else could it have been?

Soft silver light illuminated the edge of Ruby's vision. It lanced away and coated the scythe blade in a brilliant ethereal shine. Her head didn't hurt a bit.

Archer smirked. "Alright then. That's a start."

 


	38. A Dream to Live

Yang sighed as she strolled down the streets of Vale, the shattered moon barely glowing in the night sky.

All around her, people mulled about enjoying the nightlife, though not as many as there once was. The Fall of Beacon certainly put a damper on the citizens' spirits, but with time and the few remaining Grimm confined to the school, the young and foolish were starting to get their party spirit back.

Normally, Yang would probably be among them, hopping from club to club with Nora and Coco, or old friends from Signal, drinking herself through a good time. Instead, she was trudging back to Professor Port's cabin at the edge of the city, her spirits as crushed as they normally were these days.

She'd spent the day at the hospital watching over her father. As she held his hand, she wondered if he had done the same to her when she was in her coma. Perhaps he had prayed that she would wake up.

She envied the simplicity of his situation. Obviously, she would have preferred that the both of them were happy and healthy, but at least when he watched over her, he could be confident that the best thing was for her to wake up. But with him, she didn't know if she wanted him to wake up. After all, if he woke up, that just meant he would feel the agony of his warped aura.

And die all the quicker.

No, Yang wasn't sure what she was hoping for when she stood over her father's broken form. A miracle, maybe?

Ha. That would be the day. It wasn't like she had any way of letting Ruby know what had happened. Her sister was a continent away and blissfully unaware of their father's dire state. And if she didn't know, she couldn't use the Grail to wish for his salvation.

_'Of course, she's not the only one that can fight for it…'_

No!

She slapped her left hand over the back of her right, covering the infernal red marks there.

Going after Ruby wouldn't do anyone any good. She was just a directionless dog. If she tried to reach any sort of dream, she'd just get everyone she cared about hurt. And if she went without a dream, without that drive that let Ruby, Blake, and Weiss keep going despite everything, she'd be a burden, just like she was at the Fall of Beacon.

No, the best thing for her to do was stay and watch over dad.

And when Raven returned for Rider… she'd deal with it.

Somehow.

She arrived at Port's front door, a massive fortification manned by huntsmen off to the side. During the Fall, a section of Vale's defensive walls had somehow been torn down, leaving the city even more vulnerable than it already was. Yang had even heard that a bunch of Goliaths had gotten in before the kingdom's forces took control. How the entire population had survived that was a mystery.

Whatever the case, the breach didn't disappear after the chaos was over. As long as it existed, Grimm had an open path into Vale. Fortunately, Goodwitch had created a solution, with multiple teams of huntsmen taking shifts manning temporary fortifications until the wall could be rebuilt. So far, it had worked out well, but Port had apparently thought the danger was still imminent and had built himself a new cabin right next to the area so that he would always be on hand to help if things ever went south.

Honestly, as boring as the man's stories were, Yang was starting to wonder just how much of them were actually true. The more she saw of him in action, the more plausible they sounded.

She sighed at that thought. She missed the simpler days, the ones where her biggest worry was how to get Weiss to let copy her notes on Port and Oobleck's lectures while making sure Ruby and Blake didn't try to isolate themselves. Back before the end of the world seemed to happen every other week, when she could just sit back, eat, sleep, and cuddle with…"

She opened the door. A ball of fur leaped into her face and tackled her to the ground.

"AARF!"

"Zwei!"

Yang's face lit up for the first time in what felt like ages, her corgi relentlessly licking her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, down boy, down boy," she laughed. "I need to get up."

Zwei let up his assault and panted happily, his tail wagging merrily as he laid on top of Yang's chest.

She hadn't had time to think of him during the chaos back on Patch. When they'd gotten to the hospital, she'd realized in terror that he might have burned up with the house. She couldn't leave her father's side to look for him though, so Oobleck had promised to search for him in her place. She'd have to thank the good doctor when she got the chance.

In the meantime, though, she gathered her dog in her arms and closed her eyes, just enjoying the feeling of laying there with her trusty corgi.

"Hello, master! So, you've finally returned. Excellent, you're just in time to join the discussion."

Yang sighed. It was nice while it lasted.

She opened her eyes and saw Rider standing over her, his boisterous grin shining fiercely. He no longer wore his leather armor and fur cloak, instead having secured pants and an embroidered maroon jacket from Port. Why the professor had clothes for someone several sizes bigger then himself was a mystery, though he had mentioned he was waiting for the growth spurt that would 'finally make me taller than Barty!'

Given that the man's hair was already grey, Yang decided to let him dream.

Zwei barked happily and leaped at Iskandar, the Rider happily catching the corgi by the scruff and joyfully rubbing his underbelly.

The Servant chuckled as the dog panted with pleasure. "Truly, you are blessed with a noble companion, master. Doctor Oobleck has already regaled me with tales of his heroic efforts at the Battle of the Breach. Not since Bucephalus have I heard of an animal performing such wonders on the battlefield."

Yang cocked an eyebrow. "Bucephalus? You had a dog when you were alive?"

"A horse, actually." Iskandar grandly swept his hand through the air. "Together, we conquered everything from the steps of Persepolis to the banks of the Nile. He was my most trusted companion and when he died, I named a city in his honor."

A frown fell upon the Servant's face, his brow creased in thought. "Actually, I suppose even that city is no more in this time."

His solemnity surprised Yang, but she sympathized with it. After everything she'd been through, losing Zwei too would be beyond crushing.

However, his dour mood passed as if it had never been there at all and a moment later Iskandar was smiling again. "Oh well. I'll just have to name another one after him, ensuring his name is never forgotten."

The Servant gazed around Vale. "This one should do."

"This what? Vale?" Yang asked incredulously. "You can't rename Vale after your horse."

"Why not? Once I conquer it, I can name it whatever I like," Iskandar pointed out. "Besides, what kind of a name is Vale, anyway? Sounds like something to hide behind, like a coward trying to disappear under his mother's skirts. A city should have a glorious name, one that proclaims the eminence of its people to the entire world. Like Alexandria. Though, looking back, I may have overused that one."

Yang could only stare blankly at him. "You are insane."

A blur of green and brown zoomed in between the two and pulled the huntress back to her feet. When it stopped moving, Yang recognized a familiar bespectacled face.

"Now, now, Yang," Doctor Oobleck lightly chastised. "If we can't learn to understand the intricacies of other cultures, we're no better than savages. You shouldn't go around dismissing others' beliefs as insanity."

"He just said he was going to conquer the kingdom!"

"And when the time comes when he attempts to do so, we will stop him, but until then there is no reason not to be polite."

"Haha! Well spoken, good doctor," Iskandar complemented. He kneeled down and set Zwei on the ground, the corgi running back to Yang. "Master, you are truly blessed to have such a wise and open-minded scholar as your teacher. Trust me, we are not all so fortunate."

Oobleck preened at the praise. "Thank you, your grace. Though we best get back to the kitchen before Peter forgets the conclusion of his little tale."

Iskandar's eyes widened in worry. "By Olympus, we can't have that! I must know how he defeated an entire pack of these Beowolves with only a shoe."

The Servant dashed back into the house.

Yang raised an eyebrow at her old professor. "What the hell have you guys been doing?"

"Nothing much," Oobleck admitted, pushing his glasses back on his nose, a far more serious expression on his face than when he talked with Iskandar. "He and Peter played video games for most of the day before I showed up, and then we started swapping stories. His were… intriguing to say the least."

Yang sighed. "I'm guessing by the whole 'your grace' thing that he spilled the beans on what's going on."

"The Holy Grail War? Yes, that came up rather quickly," the doctor confirmed. "I didn't believe him at first, but his spirit form is difficult to refute as a semblance. It is unfathomably fascinating, actually. Humanity has no record whatsoever of a time before the Grimm, and yet by the means of magic of all things, a living remnant of that era sits in Peter's kitchen. The contributions he can make to history is almost limitless. It makes me jittery just thinking about it."

"Great. At least one good thing came out of this mess," Yang snorted. Zwei whined balefully, rubbing comfortingly against her leg.

Oobleck placed a firm hand of her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Yang. I know there is more going on than just my intellectual curiosity. You have suffered tragedy beyond imagining, and still face even more danger."

"No, I don't. Didn't he tell you, I'm staying to watch over my dad," Yang refuted.

Oobleck frowned. "Really? He said you were just mulling over your decision."

"He did what?" Yang barked. "That son of a—"

"Mmmmm!" Zwei whined loudly, his literal puppy dog eyes begging his mistress to calm down.

Yang kept her fist tight for a moment but dropped it with a sigh under her pooch's gaze, her rage evaporating like smoke. Zwei was a therapy dog, gotten by Uncle Qrow for her dad after Summer died. He was trained to sense emotional distress from his masters and do his best to help heal them. Sometimes he was so good at it, Ruby theorized it was his semblance.

Still, no amount of cuddles and puppy dog eyes would actually _solve_ her problems. But she couldn't say they didn't help.

Oobleck patted her on the shoulder. He reached into his jacket. "I got back from your house around noon. Unfortunately, most of it had burned down by the time I arrived. However, aside from dear Zwei and some of your clothes, I was able to recover this."

He pulled something out of his jacket and held it out to her. Yang's heart nearly skipped a beat as she took it in her hands.

It was Team RWBY. The photo they'd taken after the mess when they'd found out Blake's past. Ruby had been so eager to solidify the newly restored bonds of the team that she'd forced them all to take it and then spent half her allowance on a frame. After scribbling an excited 'NEW FRIENDS!', in red marker, of course. It wouldn't be Ruby without that childish and yet charming touch.

The others were just as she remembered them. Weiss trying to stand taller than she was with the cracks of her true happiness sneaking through her icy façade. Blake composed and collected as ever, an easy confidence seeping off her in waves.

And then there was someone else. A girl with long blonde hair, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face with her fist pumped triumphantly in the sky. A girl who was the picture of confidence and strength, her arms wrapped around Weiss and Blake like a wave of invincibility.

What had happened to that girl to turn her into Yang? What happened to all that confidence, all that lust for life? The eagerness to see what thrill was going to come next?

_What use could one with true ambition have for a sad, little girl, desperate for love?_

She'd learned just how hollow her striving was. How useless she was to those around her.

How she was destined to be alone.

"Thank you," she whispered. "It's good to have this."

A memento of when she could pretend to have purpose.

Oobleck gave her a warm smile, not noticing her crushed psyche. "Don't mention it, Yang. Now, let's get back to the others before we miss the end of the story. It really is a gripping tale."

The good doctor dashed away in an emerald blur, his coat flailing behind him in the breeze.

Yang sighed and picked up Zwei in her arms before heading in.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

"And so, with the Alpha distracted from the audacity of my maneuver, I straddled the beast and choked the life out of him with the laces," Port narrated boldly. "The demon never stood a chance."

"Hahahaha!" Iskandar laughed boldly. "Wonderful! Simply wonderful! An impeccable use of your available resources!"

Truly, the King of Conquerors was blessed to have been summoned into such a wondrous time. When he fought beside Waver, he had been forced to keep his true identity a secret from civilians for fear of bringing down the Mage's Association on his young master's head, but in this time, there was no Mage's Association. Leaving him free to share the full magnificence of his presence and the glory of the Holy Grail War to all.

Oh, what a joy it was to be summoned again. Now that he wasn't… wherever he had been after the Fourth War, he was pretty sure it wasn't the Throne of Heroes, he could begin his quest for the grail anew. And even if Waver and their time together resided only in his Reality Marble now, he knew he would never lack for worthy companions. Why Peter Port had already demonstrated his magnanimous generosity by allowing him and his master to stay at his lodgings since her own was destroyed. Not to mention his magnificent tales of battle against the monstrous the Grimm the Grail informed him of.

His new master was… a more complex matter.

To have called a Heroic Spirit as mighty as himself by will alone was no small feat, and the passion and determination he had sensed in that summoning more than proved her worthy to fight by his side.

But Yang Xiao-Long had been far more subdued since then. Her father's condition explained a great deal of her state of mind, but her refusal to seek the Grail to cure him of his illness confounded the King of Conquerors. Perhaps he would be more hesitant to enter the fray if he knew he would face his mother, but with the stakes as high as they were and her sister reportedly already active in the war, he could not understand why she remained docile.

He would not force her to fight. He would give her the time she needed and help her regain that fire he sensed when she called him from the circle. Then, they would ride forth and claim the grail.

Besides, it was a king's duty to inspire others to their full potential. He had done it with his men so long ago, he liked to think he did it with Waver, and he had no doubt he could do it with Yang.

He'd see fire behind those violet eyes yet.

Still, in the meantime, the company was far from unpleasant.

A green and brown blur entered the room and landed in an empty chair. "A harrowing recollection, Peter, as always," Doctor Oobleck praised.

"Thank you, Barty," Port replied. "But it was hardly a trial. Now the time I wrestled a King Taijitu as Mountain Glenn collapsed around me—"

"Actually, I was hoping to take a break from our own time," Oobleck interrupted. He eagerly turned to Iskandar. "I would very much like to hear more of your efforts at cultural assimilation. After you took control of this… Persian Empire?"

Iskandar's grin widened. Though he did wish to hear more of Port's adventures, he found Doctor Oobleck's interest in the logistics of his conquests gratifying. He had a great respect for learned men, especially those who sought to learn more. His own idol in those matters, his former teacher Aristotle, had failed him utterly in that regard, lambasting him for seeking to incorporate the customs of the lands he conquered into his rule. His refusal to accept anything not one hundred percent Greek drove a wedge between the two of them that never healed. Thus, he found the good Doctor's eagerness to understand utterly enthralling.

"After we took Persepolis and I received word of Darius' assassination, I made sure to take control of the Persian mail system to ensure all corners of the empire could start providing supplies for the next campaign," he explained eagerly. "We began the recruitment of Darius' former generals and men immediately, as well as sending for reinforcements from the other territories like Egypt. Some of the men took issue with these new officers having authority over them, but I have always believed that a man should have his station based on his skill, not the other way around."

"A reliable sentiment," Oobleck remarked. The doctor shook his head woefully. "Shame it so rarely seems to translate into reality."

"A king shapes his reality," Iskandar declared with a smirk. "I refused to budge against the fools, even took the Persian version of my name, Iskandar, to show my support for the newcomers. It took some time, and it wasn't always a smooth process, but eventually, tensions settled down. And because of my stalwartness, I marched for India with an army of a hundred thousand at my back, each one as loyal as the ten thousand who came with me to Persia."

"Haha!" Port cheered. "Inspiring. Truly, my friend, I wish you had been born in this era. You would have defeated the Grimm in the blink of an eye."

Iskandar chuckled, his opinion of the Grimm low as it was. The specimens he had dealt with coming after the wall certainly didn't impress. "The world cannot serve two lords, and I will never allow such demonic creatures to have dominion over this realm. I showed you that when we played _Kingdoms of Remnant_."

"He actually beat you, Peter?"

"Beginner's luck!"

Iskandar smiled at the friends’ bickering and turned to the hallway that led to the door. His master came through shortly after, her dog Zwei in her arms. There was a photo sticking out of her pocket that he didn't recall seeing before, but it wasn't at the right angle for him to catch a good look of it.

Yang pulled up a chair and sat down, mindlessly scratching Zwei behind the ears.

The jovial atmosphere in the room disappeared. Port and Oobleck stared back and forth with each other, seemingly communicating without a word. Finally, Port cleared his throat.

"How is your father, Yang? Has there been any improvement?"

The blonde girl shook her head. "No. He's still sedated."

Iskandar hummed thoughtfully. He turned to Oobleck. "Is there really nothing your medicine can do for him?"

The professor shook his head sadly. "Aura has always been a difficult field at best. Despite the best efforts of history's brightest minds, what we know of its specifics is murky at best. Certainly not enough to even begin to mend a rupture of the like that has stricken poor Tai."

"Well, then our course of action is clear." All present looked to the King of Conquerors, but he only had eyes for his master. "If no modern means will be sufficient to heal him, then our only option is to use the Grail."

Yang narrowed her eyes. "I already told you, we're not going after the grail. If I can figure out some way to tell Ruby, she'll deal with it."

"You'll leave her to fight the battle in your place? Why? With the Gordius Wheel, we can catch up in a matter of days."

"She left to fight. More than that, she can actually win."

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. "You don't think you can win? That's absurd. No master incapable of winning the Holy Grail War and achieving their dream could ever have summoned me."

"I don't have a dream," Yang growled. "That's why I can't win, and why Ruby can. It's why she and Blake left me behind."

"I thought it was because you were in a coma?"

"We're not going and that's final!" Yang roared, releasing Zwei and smacking her hands on the table.

Peter and Bartholomew's eyes widened in shock at her outburst. Zwei whined in fear.

Iskandar just stared at her. He had faced far worse than a wounded child.

"Gentlemen, might I have a moment alone with my master?" he requested.

The huntsmen nodded and exited the room.

Yang stood up and glared at Iskandar, her eyes blazing crimson. "I don't care what you say. I am not risking my sister's life just so you can try to conquer the world."

"But you'll risk it so you won't have to try and help her?"

"I am helping her. By not weighing her down."

"How can you weigh them down when you refuse to even try to join them?" Iskandar demanded. "You claim to want to heal your father, but you refuse to take action to do so. You simply use his condition as an excuse to cower from the war."

"That's not what this is about. I won't leave him."

"Why?"

"Because he's the only one who never left me!"

Yang panted heavily, tears pooling in her now violet eyes. She pulled the photograph out of her pocket and slammed it onto the table. Iskandar observed it was a picture of her with three other girls. She was much livelier than he'd ever seen her.

"My mom left me and dad after I was born. My stepmom died a few years after Ruby was born. Our uncle could never stick around long. This… Team RWBY was supposed to be different. Something permanent. Somewhere that I didn't have to worry about people leaving," Yang explained. "Now, they're all gone. And all of them had good reason to go."

"Then it is not your fault," Iskandar comforted. "It is not your fault that they chose to chase their dreams."

"Maybe," Yang mused. "But it is my fault that I couldn't follow. I don't have a dream, anything to drive me like they do. The closest I had was meeting my mom, and you saw how well that went. I was a thrill seeker, looking for the next high. And that's… just not enough to keep up with people like them. People that actually matter. People that live for a dream."

The broken blond girl sank back into her chair. "I deserve to be alone. After all, I can't help anyone, so why should they have to stay behind and help me?"

Zwei whined pitifully, rubbing against his master's leg.

Iskandar scratched his beard as he contemplated her words. His master had allowed her suffering to bury her in despair, twisting her own mind to try to justify the fear in her heart. He could not allow that. Even if she were not his master, even if he did not depend on her for the war, he could not allow anyone with their whole life ahead of them to be so thoroughly handicapped by their own dread.

He gathered his _prana_ within himself. His words required suitable reinforcement.

He stood from his chair. His body flashed white and the clothing Peter lent him was replaced with his traditional armor and cape. Wind began to flow off him in waves.

Yang looked up in astonishment.

The King of Conquerors grinned. "Just because your friends have left, does not mean they are gone."

A typhoon erupted from him and the world went white.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Yang yelped as her chair disappeared from under her. She flashed her aura immediately but found it useless when she hit the ground. The sand beneath her did not smash into her shield, instead sinking into her clothes.

_'Wait. Sand?'_

Yang whipped her head around and her eyes went wide. Professor Port's kitchen was gone. Instead, she found herself in a desert larger than the eye could see, the blazing sun the only blemish in an otherwise flawless cerulean sky.

"What the hell?" she muttered breathlessly.

"AARF!"

She whipped her head around and spotted a set of familiar stubby legs sticking out of a dune.

"Zwei!"

She dashed over and pulled on the legs. She was rewarded with one sand coated corgi. The dog shook himself, trying to remove the desert from his fur like water after a bath. The results were mixed.

Yang spat some of the sand out of her mouth and then stood. She caught sight of Iskandar, boldly standing tall in the middle of the massive expanse, his back to her.

"Hey!" She called to him. "Where are we? What the hell is this place?"

The Rider did not face her, merely raising his hand to calm her. "There is something you need to see."

Yang cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "See what? There's nothing here—"

She stopped when she heard it. A familiar sound. One that had haunted her dreams for months.

The symphony.

A stampede of roaring thunder.

She gazed at the lustrous blue of the sky. Just for a moment, she imagined it was an endless ocean.

The desert shook with anticipation as a hundred thousand footsteps beat like drums upon the horizons. The sand billowed like a cloak of the earth, desperate to keep such power hidden from the world.

But it could not hold, and the stampede broke through the storm.

That was when Yang saw them. Soldiers, more than she could count, massed across the desert, steadily marching forward. Some wore leather armor, some wore steel. Some covered themselves in black cloth and wielded spears three times their size. No face had the same features and no arms were the same. And yet, they all marched together, steadily mustering towards the horizon.

Towards Iskandar.

When they reached him, they halted, all hundred thousand as one. They stood strong before the man they'd pledged their lives to. Their King.

The King of Conquerors.

"You," Yang whispered in awe. "You're the conductor."

Iskandar finally turned to face her, his wide grin no longer infuriating but inspiring.

He threw his arms wide, as if to grapple the entire horizon. "This world is my soul made manifest. My glorious armies once rode across these sands, a place that all the heroes who stood with me through joy and sorrow will never forget. Behold! My endless armies! Their bodies utterly destroyed, and their souls offered to the Throne as Heroic Spirits, and still, these legendary heroes dedicate themselves to me! My bond with them is my greatest treasure, my path to kingship! The ultimate Noble Phantasm that I possess! IONIAN HETAIROI!"

A massive cheer went up among the soldiers, their lungs emptying completely in support of their king. They formed no words, only a visceral note of strength, unity, and loyalty.

Yang… had no response.

Iskandar lowered his hands to his sides. His smile softened into something more comforting, nurturing. Almost fatherly.

"Do you see now, girl?" he asked softly. "A comrade is not something you can lose. It is more than mere physical presence. You were never abandoned, for true friends, the truest companions, always stand with you in your heart, whether living or dead. Just as you wish the best for your team wherever they are, they, in turn, lend their spirits to you, no matter your endeavor."

Yang blinked and snapped out of her trance. Her mind desperately tried to justify her motives while her heart could not help but waver in the face of the king's display.

"But… but how can I help them?" she protested weakly. "I can't keep up. I don't have a dream. These guys… they all believe in yours."

Even though he'd never told her, she knew what it was.

"The endless ocean."

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. A moment later, he burst out laughing.

"Okeanos. You think my dream is Okeanos?"

He stopped laughing and flashed another brilliant grin.

"You are correct. But you are sorely mistaken if you believe it to be a mere sea." He smashed a fist to his chest, right over the lapel of his cloak. "Okeanos is the beating of my heart! The proof of my life, and all the wonders of its experience! The drive to challenge an unattainable goal, in the company and shared glory of all my comrades!"

His grin quieted to a smirk. "A thrill seeker, you might say."

"You…" Yang muttered. "You don't have a dream?"

"Of course, I have a dream! A dream to live, for to live is a dream! You need no more, master."

He walked forward and planted a firm, guiding hand on her shoulder. "And no one needs any more from you. Yang Xiao-Long fought against impossible odds. Yang Xiao-Long summoned me forth to this battle."

His grin burst open once again. "And it is by the side of Yang Xiao-Long, that I shall claim the Holy Grail!"

His mouth reflected the sun's glare so brightly, Yang wondered whether it was truly the source.

She gazed down at her hands. The Command Seals still burned in her skin but they no longer felt mocking.

No. They were a challenge.

She looked to the army, the endless legions stretching as far as the eye could see. More men than could be counted, all devoted to their king past any bonds of space or time. Before them, the horizon itself seemed a reachable goal.

And on the horizon, she saw them.

_A girl in a white dress with a snowflake on her back, her posture poised and perfect, a rapier held lightly in her right hand._

_A girl with long dark hair, confident and relentless, a large black bow placed squarely on her head._

_And finally, the most enticing of all, a small girl in a red hood, her eyes glued towards the mesmerizing horizon._

They awaited her.

Yang's eyes welled with tears.

And for the first time in a long time, she smiled.

"Haha!" Iskandar cheered. "There is it! I knew there was fire behind those eyes."

Yang chuckled. Her arm came up to wipe the tears from her face. Zwei rushed to her side and barked happily. She knelt down to scratch his ears.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her words were meant for more than just her dog.

Iskandar's widening grin let her know he understood.

She rose back to her feet and stood tall, feeling strong and whole for the first time since the Vytal Festival.

"I'm going to fight," she declared proudly. "I'm going to win the Grail or make sure Ruby does. I'm going to save my dad."

She thrust out an open hand. "Are you still willing to help me?"

The Rider clasped her palm before the words even left her mouth. "With pleasure, master."

"I may be of some assistance in that matter."

Yang and Iskandar both turned to the sound of the voice. From the ranks of the army walked a single man, tall and thin, with black hair longer than even Raven's. Unlike the rest of the soldiers who appeared dressed for war, this man wore a green suit with a black tie.

He walked before Iskandar and knelt. "My liege," he spoke reverently.

The King laughed and patted the man on his back, dragging him to his feet. "Oh, don't start on all that, Waver. Friends do not kneel here."

He turned back to Yang and collected the man in a hug that pinned him to his side. "Yang, this is Waver Velvet. He was my master in the Fourth Holy Grail War. He can probably give you some tips for the upcoming fight."

Yang cocked an eyebrow. Waver didn't appear to be in the mood for tip giving, a scowl dominating his face, and his brow furrowed in urgency.

"My liege, please. This is important, and the Reality Marble will only last a few minutes before your _prana_ gives out," Waver protested. "I have information that may be crucial to your strategies in this war."

Iskandar raised an eyebrow, the rest of his face suddenly serious. He released his friend and gave him his full attention. Before, Yang saw the king that inspired his men to war. Now, she saw the commander who won them.

"Go on," he nodded.

"It's about my fate in this timeline…"

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

The world flashed, and the huntress, hero, and dog were back in the cabin's kitchen.

"Well, that was disconcerting," Iskandar remarked.

Yang nodded, her gaze pitying to her Servant. "Rider, I'm sorry."

Zwei walked up and rubbed against the hero's leg.

Iskandar smiled softly. "It can't be helped. What's done is done. We can only look toward the horizon."

"Right," Yang affirmed.

She gazed out the cabin window and saw the sun rising, the light of the dawn burning away the darkness. If she had her way, it wouldn't burn the brightest for long.

And with that fire, she'd take down Kirei, and Raven, and anyone else who threatened her family. She would protect her sister and save her father.

"Let's go."


	39. Ghosts of the Past, Drive of the Present

"So, the _prana_ flows through the outer ring? But our bodies are dematerialized through the inner ring. So, how is the link established? Argh!"

Oscar wailed to the sky and then smacked his head against his cane. Ozpin was resting in his head from doing some of the heavy lifting for the teleportation spell, leaving him alone to do the easier parts. At least, the supposedly easier parts. "Why can't magic make sense?"

"I ask myself that every day."

"Ah!" Oscar yelped at the unexpected voice, his cane whirling around into a defensive position.

Jaune Arc raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

Oscar sighed and sagged in relief. "No. No, it's fine. I'm just a bit wound up is all. Fate of the world and all that."

"Yeah, I get that. Don't worry. You get used to it," Jaune assured him.

"Really?"

"No. But saying it still helps, kind of."

"Oh."

Oscar nervously shuffled his feet. "So, is there anything I can help you with?"

When Ozpin had told him he would be joining up with huntsmen, he had anticipated larger than life heroes, the kind he read about in his aunt’s books. Stalwart and noble defenders of humanity, the kind of people you'd expect an ancient reincarnating wizard to hang out with.

That had not been at all what he had gotten.

Of all of them, Ruby was probably the closest to a storybook hero, what with her endless empathy and earnest determination to save people. Other than her though, Qrow was surly at the best of times, and Archer, the only one who was an official 'hero', had apparently tried to kill half their team.

Jaune was probably the one Oscar felt the most comfortable around. He'd say he liked Ruby more, it was hard not to like Ruby, but Jaune seemed the least outlandish of the bunch. Maybe it was because he admittedly didn't know him that well, but the blonde boy seemed to be just like him, an average guy who got this mess dropped on him and was now doing his best to deal with it.

Though he'd heard that his Servant, the one who was apparently older than the _Grimm_ , was somehow also his sibling, so there was probably something he was missing.

The blonde huntsman scratched the back of his head. "Not much. Ruby's honing her silver eyes with Qrow and Archer, and the others haven't messaged that they're through the mountains yet. Everything seems quiet for now."

Oscar smiled. "Good. That's good, right?"

Jaune nodded grimly. "Yeah, this might be the last quiet moment we have for a while. So, I figured now would be a good time to finally talk to Ozpin about… well, some stuff that's been bothering me. I don't mean to be rude, but you are kind of his mouthpiece."

"Don't sweat it," Oscar sighed. "I get it. I'm not exactly good for much else."

Even with the surprise of the war, the others had had years of combat training to prepare them for stressful situations. He just had what skills Ozpin had been able to crash course him with since the reincarnation, and none of the tactical mindset. Even with the old man's muscle memory firmly set in, he doubted he would be more effective than Ozpin when the latter was controlling his body. Unfortunately, that also meant…

"Ozpin's resting," he explained. "Him controlling my body strains the magic that links his consciousness to me. Magecraft just makes it worse. If he even talks to me too much right afterward, he could risk seriously hurting us both."

He glared at the magic circles. "Not that I'm any use without him."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Jaune comforted him. "You've been doing this for what? A few months? I'd say finding Excalibur, saving Qrow from Raven, and learning to be the first mage in millennia is a good starting point."

"I could only do that stuff because of Ozpin," Oscar pointed out dismissively. "He told me where Excalibur was, he gave me magic circuits, and he was in control of when we fought Raven. I haven't done anything except be his meat suit."

"Except choose to come."

Oscar stared at Jaune in confusion. The huntsman shrugged. "What? Don't tell me Ozpin was in control the entire walk from your farm. He's a wily bastard, but you just said he can't pilot twenty-four-seven. You made the choice to leave your home and come help us. You chose to jump into danger to help a bunch of strangers you didn't even know really existed. That's got to count for something. It's certainly a better reason than I had to become a huntsman."

"Really? Why did you do it?" Oscar inquired.

"Honestly? I wanted people to stop laughing at me. I wanted to show them that I could be as great as any of my ancestors. I wanted to be a hero," Jaune declared. The blonde huntsman chuckled. "I was so naïve. And stupid. You think you're out of your depth? Try faking your way into Beacon without having trained a day in your life."

"No!" Oscar grinned. That was… that was… Who would sneak into a combat school if they didn't know how to fight?

Jaune smirked. "Yup. I freaked out when I found out that initiation was literally getting thrown off a cliff. Which I, of course, didn't realize until _after_ Ozpin had sent me hurtling towards a Grimm infested forest."

Oscar burst out laughing. "That's crazy. How did you survive?"

Jaune's smile dimmed. It didn't disappear, but it became far more somber, wistful. "I met my partner."

Oscar stopped laughing. "Oh. Pyrrha Nikos, right? I heard about what happened to her. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She was a hero," Jaune stated proudly, if tinged with regret. "She died doing what she thought was right. I don't have the right to dishonor her for that." He placed a comforting hand on Oscar's shoulder. "I wish you could have met her. She would have liked you."

Oscar's lips perked up. "You think so?"

"Probably. She had a thing for idiots in over their heads. Granted, you're not nearly as good looking as her standard fare—"

"Aw, shut up." Oscar playfully shoved the blonde off of him, a smile on both their faces.

Gods, it felt good to smile.

He didn't know why Ozpin had let Jaune into Beacon, there was no way the wizard was fooled by whatever his deception was, but at the moment, he couldn't help but be glad he did.

"I've always admired huntsmen and huntresses," he revealed. "I never met any, but the stories were always incredible. Noble guardians who were unafraid to lay down their lives for others. Heck, I wouldn't exist if it wasn't for them."

"Did one save you?"

"No, but one did save my family," he explained. "It was years before I was born. My parents and my aunt were living in a frontier settlement that got attacked by Grimm. Not a lot of people got out. They only did because a huntress stayed behind to buy them time to escape."

Jaune smirked. "Did you know her name?"

Oscar chuckled. "As if I could ever forget it. Every night before I went to bed, when my aunt would tell me the story she'd say, 'Now Oscar always remember, always! You owe everything to the huntress Gretchen Rainart.'"

"Did she really sound like that?"

"Exactly like that," he insisted. "She's the toughest old crone I've ever met. I'm pretty sure the reason the farm was so quiet was because no Grimm was stupid enough to try their luck with her. Oh, she is going to kill me when I get back."

"Good," Jaune declared. "That means we'll have won."

Oscar grinned. "I only really decided to come when I learned about my magecraft. Before that, I was too scared. But if I'm the only one who can help you guys, then I can't turn my back on you. Or the rest of the world. I have to help, to make sure Gretchen Rainart didn't die in vain."

Jaune patted him on the back. "She didn't."

The blonde huntsman started walking away but paused and turned back. "For what it's worth, kid, I like you a whole lot more than Ozpin."

"Kid? You're only like… three years older than me."

"Exactly what a kid would say."

"Oh yeah, Vomit Boy?"

"How…"

"Ruby told me."

"Of course, she did." Jaune shook his head fondly. "Want to hear about the time she blew a crater in the side of Beacon?"

Oscar glanced back at the magic circles. His mind felt strained just looking at them, let alone trying to understand them. If he messed up even the slightest bit, they were all dead. Maybe a break would help, at least until Ozpin had rested enough to guide him. The other group wouldn't be through the mountains for a few days at least.

Besides, in the middle of a war, it was important to be able to act your age once in a while. He had to remember what he was fighting for.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

"Faster, monkey! We're falling behind!"

"I told you, I am not rushing climbing a mountain. And stop calling me 'monkey'!"

Mordred scowled. It was bad enough she had to endure the indignity of being carried by this oaf to conserve _prana_. But now she was falling behind in her race with Lady Nora. And even if the lady was her favorite among the group, the successor of the King of Knights did not lose!

Her duel with Lancer didn't count. She wasn't fighting at full capacity.

Though even if she had been, it would have been an interesting fight. Despite how much it hurt to acknowledge it, the knight had been skilled. In terms of pure technique, he was likely Mordred's superior. She was confident she could still take him, but she'd need full access to Prana Burst to do it.

Then there was the matter of his Noble Phantasm. As long as that remained a mystery, she would have to be on guard against him. If she could figure it out, she could just blast him with Clarent Blood Arthur. But until then, she ran the risk of him having a defensive Noble Phantasm powerful enough to match it and leave her vulnerable.

His longer lance maybe? She remembered the crimson polearm that had speared her before she blacked out. It might have just been her fevered body playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn the spear had bypassed her magic armor completely to strike her flesh.

 _'A knight with a red spear that dissipates magic,'_ she contemplated. _'And a mole under his right eye. That rings a bell.'_

Unfortunately, Mordred had never been the best at studying the legends of others. Why bother when hers was obviously greater than them all? She recalled a faint mention of some Irish knight who matched the description the Lancer she fought, but honestly, she'd heard tale of more Irish spearmen than she could possibly be expected to remember. Really, it was a miracle they didn't make up the entire Lancer class.

Besides, she could care less about the fool's identity. She could even forgive him for his victory if she was feeling generous. But she could not forgive his words.

_Imitation._

How dare he? She was greater than her father ever was. She was created in his image, true, but she had far surpassed him.

She had.

She _had_.

And what was that nonsense about soiling the sacred oath of a knight? The throne was her birthright. What sin was there in claiming what was hers, what was being unjustly denied to her?

She had not rebelled against her liege for the sake of rebelling. She had done it because it needed to be done. King Arthur could not be allowed to remain on the throne. Because then…

…

Because then…

…

Because _something_! Just because she couldn't remember the reason didn't mean she didn't have it!

She needed to stop wasting thoughts on such pointless matters.

"How much further to the peak, monkey?"

Sun sighed as he climbed over the next rock cropping. "Just a bit further. Looks like Ren and Nora are waiting for us up ahead." He turned his head back. "We doing okay, Blake?"

"Fine," the cat girl called up from her place slightly below them. "Just stay away from the right. There aren't any good handholds."

"Handholds? Hah!" Sun jeered. "I scaled the side of Beacon with Neptune on my back. I don't need no stinking handholds."

Mordred glared at him. "I am not dying for your bravado."

"Got it. Got it. Sticking to the left."

Mordred sighed as they ascended. Not only was riding the monkey disgraceful, it was boring. If she was at full power, she could have scaled the cliff in an instant. Instead, she was a passenger to the faunus boy's snail's pace.

Ugh!

Maybe Lady Nora would say something interesting. Things were never boring around her.

Mordred closed her eyes and extended her senses. The properties of simply being a Servant already increased her hearing and the like tenfold, with the exception of _prana_ detection. But there was only so much one could take in without it being harmful. Hearing every breath of every living creature, animal, bug, or even tree, would get grating for anyone after a while. So, her mind subconsciously funneled out any background noise it didn't recognize as possibly dangerous. It took a conscious effort to focus on anything harmless.

She tuned in and recognized Lady Nora speaking with her… friend? Lover? Chef? Their relationship was somewhat muddled to Mordred.

"We never get the easy path, do we?" the boy, Ren, remarked.

Lady Nora chuckled. "Easy's no fun anyway. Are you okay?"

Mordred could practically hear him nod. "Are you?" he inquired.

"I've got you with me, don't I?"

There was silence after that. Mordred couldn't help but feel she'd overheard something eminently private. But how? They barely spoke.

"And topside!" Sun cheered as he finally got them to the others' level. "You happy now, your majesty?"

"What?" Mordred responded lightly, still evaluating what she heard. "Yeah, sure. Good job, monkey."

Sun sighed. "Guess that's the best I'm getting. Thanks anyway."

Blake jumped up behind them. "The hard part's over. Getting down should be simple enough once we find the path."

"Great. That could take ages."

"Hey!" Nora called. She and Ren were in front of a large vine encrusted opening. "There's wind blowing out of this cave.

Blake smirked. "Evidently not."

They made their way over to the others. Like Lady Nora had said, there was indeed a strong gust coming out of the cave. Small clusters of leaves blew past the party's feet.

"Do you think this is our way down?" Nora asked.

Ren shrugged. "I suppose there's only one way to find-oof!"

A tattered banner of cloth flew out and slammed into Ren's face. Nora, Sun, and Mordred chuckled at the huntsman inconvenience. Even Blake suppressed a giggle.

Lady Nora graciously removed the obstruction from her mount's eyes. To his credit, Ren had a good-natured smile on his face.

"Yes, yes. Very funny. Now come on, we should get going."

"Hold on," Nora requested. She held up the tattered banner, now with a faded green lotus flower clearly visible. "This symbol… have we seen this somewhere before?"

"Hmm… four-pointed lotus flower…" Sun mused. "Maybe. A lot of settlements in Anima use some sort of lotus as their symbol. Something about historical significance to Mistral or something. It probably flew up from a nearby village."

"Four-pointed…" Ren's eyes went wide. "Nora, can I see that?"

"Sure," she complied, dropping it into his waiting hands.

Ren froze at the sight of the banner. He stared down the cave in terror.

"Ren? What's wrong?" Blake inquired.

"This is the symbol for Shion village," the pink-eyed man revealed.

"What's that?" Mordred inquired.

"A village we came across a few weeks ago" Blake explained. "It was sacked by bandits and Grimm. It's where we first heard about Lancelot." Her amber eyes narrowed. "A huntsman we met said he drove off a Grimm."

Only one? Even if Lancelot hadn't been trying, what kind of Grimm could survive against the Knight of the Lake alone?

"Shion," Nora uttered, confused. A note of dread permeated her voice. "How did it get so far—Ren!"

The huntsman dashed into the cave like a man possessed, his best friend bouncing on his back.

"What in the… after them, monkey!" Mordred shouted.

For once, she got no complaint as Sun and Blake both ran after the others.

When they caught up, they found themselves in a massive cavern with a wide opening to the outside. It looked like they had found their path down.

But also…

Weapons. Throughout the cavern, scattered as if they were common stones, was a practical armory of weapons. Swords, axes, spears, even a few flagpoles laid about without organization or purpose. They were all scratched at the very least and broken at the very worst, none of them having been properly tended to in a long time.

Mordred held no illusions that this was someone's arsenal. It wasn't even a graveyard.

It was a trophy room. A mirror into a past of carnage and slaughter.

More disturbingly, it was a past that someone, _something_ , wanted to look back on.

Ren kneeled down, careful not to let Nora slip off. He gingerly picked up an ornate arrow stuck in the dirt. Above it was a horse's hoof print the size of a regular horse.

Mordred dreaded to imagine how big the rider would have to be.

"What… what is this place?" Sun stuttered.

"Ren?" Blake inquired. "What's going on?"

The green-clad man remained silent.

Nora held his shoulder comfortingly. "We have to tell them. This involves them too now."

Ren still did not speak, his eyes locked on the arrow. After a moment though, he nodded.

Nora grimaced and turned her head to the others. "When Ren and I were little, his… our village, Kuroyuri, was attacked by a rare Grimm called a Nuckelavee."

"A Nuckelavee?" Blake gasped. "That's one of the most dangerous Grimm in the world! Multiple teams of huntsmen are called in to deal with just one!"

"Yeah," Nora sighed. "So, you can imagine what happened to the village."

Mordred didn't have to. She'd seen the aftermath of villages barbarians had sacked before the Knights of the Round Table could arrive. Sometimes they stacked the bodies of the civilians in the middle of the square, a gloating taunt for the protectors who could not save anyone.

She glanced over the scattered weapons, memories of those past tragedies flooding her mind.

"How did you two survive?" Sun whispered in horror.

"My parents sacrificed themselves so I could get away," Ren revealed, speaking up at last. "After that, I found Nora and my semblance unlocked. I was able to hide us until the attack was over."

Blake walked over and placed a comforting hand on Ren's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Ren's fists closed. "They were good people. Better than me."

"They would be proud of you," Mordred declared. Her eyes were still locked on the weapons, a familiar field of corpses forcing its way into her vision.

That was not her fault. She fought for what was hers. She didn't do it to kill them.

"Maybe," Ren muttered. "But they're still dead."

All those knights. Still dead on the fields of Camlann.

Her rebellion was just. She had to show the King of Knights what all his governing was really worth. She refused to be denied what was hers to have.

…

Had the Nuckelavee felt the same about the lives of its victims?

She hadn't gone into the rebellion intending for anyone but her father to suffer. But at the end of the day, did she care that they had?

And weren't they still dead?

Knights she had fought with.

Knights she had drunk with.

Knights she had once called friend.

_  
“The sword is strongest as a shield. Who were you protecting with your little rebellion?”_

Jaune's question radiated through her mind like a thunderbolt. She didn't understand why she couldn't answer.

A rustle sounded through the cavern.

Blake glanced about, her hand on her weapon. "What was that?"

"It's on the move," Ren proclaimed. He rose to his feet and strode over to the cave's opening. The others followed.

Far below, the treetops of the forest shook. Something powerful was moving through them, forcing the ancient trunks to tremble with its every step.

"It's headed towards that town," Sun observed, the beast's path targeted at a ruin of a village.

"That's Kuroyuri," Nora gasped. "Why's it going there? It's been abandoned for years."

"Maybe it can feel something we can't," Blake suggested. "Maybe some travelers are passing through and it can sense their negativity."

Ren's fists clenched. "We can't let it hurt them."

Mordred stared defiantly at the horizon. "We won't. We're killing it."

"Are you serious?" Sun demanded incredulously. "Sure, if you were at full power you could stomp that thing no problem, but right now you're—"

"We’ll let the others know the spell is safe as soon as we get down the mountain," Mordred countered. "Besides, even reduced as I am, I am more than a match for a _Grimm_."

She gazed at Ren and Nora, sympathy and regret flooding her heart. "This beast has been terrorizing the countryside for over a decade. You've seen the remains of its victims. I say, it's killed enough people."

"Mor-Mor," Nora whispered reverently. She sniffled and wiped her eyes of tears. "Thank you."

Mordred nodded. She slapped Sun's shoulder. "Let's go, monkey."

The boy smirked. "Alright then. By your command, your majesty."

Mordred preened at the comment as the group began their descent. It was nice to get the acknowledgment she deserved.

But did she deserve it?

She shook such thoughts out of her head immediately. They wouldn't help the current situation.

She'd never been one to think about the consequences of her actions. She trusted her gut and jumped. Maybe that hadn't served her as well as she'd thought but trying to change so soon before the battle would only divide her focus.

Besides, she knew the consequences of not acting. Just as if she'd kept quiet about Lancelot and Guinevere’s affair, if she did nothing here, the injustice would continue.

Perhaps she had missed something back then, but she had no doubts about her actions now.

The sword was strongest as a shield.

She would protect the innocent.

She would slay the monster.

She would be a knight.

She would be a hero.


	40. Black Knight and Dark Lady

_Raven staggered when she exited the portal. Her stomach felt like it had plummeted to her knees, every one of her senses mixing into an unrecognizable haze. She could see her surroundings, but she could not understand them, her vision appearing smeared and off-color._

_'What… What just…'_

_Her balance evaporated, and she tumbled towards the rocky ground._

_A pair of strong hands halted her fall._

_"I've got you, master," an unfamiliar voice promised._

_Raven blinked in confusion, her mind desperately trying to make sense of what was going on._

_She, Qrow, and Tai had landed in the Grimmlands with Berserker. They were supposed to join up with Summer, Lancer, Nicholas Schnee, and some special Servant called Ruler. Said Ruler had apparently sensed the Lesser Grail in Salem's domain and Oz had ordered them to seize it. After all, with Saber, Archer, Caster, and Assassin all dead, the Holy Grail War was slowly drawing to a close and if Salem somehow had the chalice when it was primed for wish granting, there was no telling what she could do._

_Of course, when they'd arrived in the violet hellscape, it had turned out Assassin wasn't actually dead! There were apparently a lot more of the masked shadow man than the one they'd see die before, and the Servants had no qualms about trying to knife Raven in the back. If Berserker hadn't reacted as fast as he did, she would have been a goner._

_Of course, surrounded by eighty something Servants bodies wasn't exactly her definition of an easy fight. Even if Berserker could probably take them all, it only took one to slip past his insanity impaired guard and eliminate Raven. Thank goodness, Tai and Qrow had escaped the area, or else there'd be even more targets._

_Still, she couldn't portal to them or Summer without putting them in harm's way. Besides, something about the domain of the Mother of Grimm made distorting reality with her semblance difficult beyond a few yards. Maybe a part of that Reality Marble thing Oz mentioned?_

_So, Raven had come up with a new plan. A simple plan. Use a Command Seal to boost Berserker so he could quickly slaughter all the Assassins, then repeatedly use her semblance to continuously portal herself around him until he finished the job. The Assassins couldn't kill her if she wasn't on their plane of space._

_Of course, she'd figured overtaxing her powers like that would be dangerous, she couldn't afford even a half second between portals after all, but it had seemed to work out well enough. Berserker had annihilated the Assassins, even if the last one had shoved him into that weird mud pit. She'd already been in the process of creating and going through another portal when it had started to latch onto him like a parasite._

_Then, she'd ended up stumbling to the ground with the worst hangover of her life and being caught by some fool she'd never heard before. Speaking of…_

_She made an effort to turn and see her savior. Thankfully, her eyes began to remember how to focus so she could actually comprehend his features._

_He was tall, easily more than six feet. He had long dark hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in years. His eyes were sunken and haggard as if he hadn't slept in longer, too focused on one singular goal to ever let sleep distract from his work._

_Yet despite his dishevelment, there was a gentleness to his face, a natural nobility that seemed to have dulled from disuse but still stubbornly refused to disappear. If he got a haircut and a good night's rest, he would probably look like one of the knights from the legends that Summer loved so much._

_Legends…_

_Raven glanced over the pitch-black armor that covered him up to his neck. It was a uniform she recognized immediately. After all, she had seen it every day and night since the war began._

_"Ber… Berserker?" she muttered incredulously_

_The knight dutifully nodded. "I apologize that I have not introduced myself sooner, master. Are you alright? Do you need healing?"_

_She ignored his questions for her own, her mind whirling as she frantically glanced about. She had recovered enough to comprehend the shapes of her surroundings, but the color was still wrong. The black, red, and purple landscape of the Grimmlands was covered with a menagerie of bright greens, yellows, and blues. It was like she was seeing the world through a kaleidoscope. "How are you talking? Where's your helmet? What happened to the mud? Where are we?"_

_Berserker frowned disconcertedly. "I apologize, master. I do not know the answers to any of those questions."_

_"Well then, I can be of some assistance in that matter!" A cocky voice called out._

_Raven and Berserker whirled around to owner of the new voice. He was a familiar figure._

_Blond-green hair, sharp eyes, and a sash of brilliant red strung around his strong gray armor. His bearing was casual, as if he was meeting a friend for drinks, but any trained warrior could see the immense power coiled in his muscles, barring its fangs to be unleashed. He projected an aura of invincibility, as if he had not a care in the world even in the hellscape they found themselves in._

_He was not noble, but he was not crude. What he was, was a hero._

_And unfortunately for Raven, a powerful one._

_"Rider," she snarled._

_The Hero of the Mount flashed a confident smirk. "A pleasure to see you again, Master of Berserker."_

_Raven did not return his courtesy. Rider was an enigma in the war. Sometimes he helped them, like when he intervened when Saber was forced to go after Qrow and Tai even after Archer's death. But other times, he proved himself a formidable foe, nearly killing Berserker on multiple occasions and even fighting Lancer to a draw. And considering Ozpin said that Lancer could wipe Vale off the map if he felt like it, that was terrifying._

_And since he was the only Servant left who wasn't associated with Team STRQ, that meant he wasn't here to make nice._

_Berserker held his hand in front of Raven, his stare locked on the other Heroic Spirit. "I would request you answer my master’s questions, Rider. What is going on?"_

_"Straight to the point. I knew I'd like you better like this," Rider remarked. "I was heading this way to find you actually. Finish you off before taking on Lancer in one final fight for the grail. Then Assassin threw you in the mud and you started…well, I don't know what, but I wasn't exactly going to let you die like **that**. So, I used my Noble Phantasm."_

_"Your Noble Phantasm?" Raven repeated, astonished. "You have another one?"_

_"Yup. **Diatrecon Aster Logche** ," Rider declared proudly. He raised his arms and gestured all around them. "It stops time all around my chosen opponent and I, providing us with a worthy stage for a fair duel. No outside interference is allowed here. Probably the reason that mud couldn't finish whatever it was doing to you."_

_"A fair duel?" Berserker muttered. "Does that mean—"_

_"You were insane when we fought in the past," Rider reminded them. "And yet the instinctual skills ingrained in your body were so refined, I actually had to try. There's no way I'm going to coast by on invulnerability against an opponent of your caliber. You may lose the power boost you got from your Madness Enchantment, but somehow I don't think that'll hamper you too much."_

_"What about me?" Raven demanded. "If this duel field is supposed to stop outside interference, why was I unaffected by the time stop?"_

_Rider shrugged. "I don't know. Never exactly had anyone try to get in before. Best guess, the field beamed during the split second you were completely in your portal, i.e. not in this dimension. The time stop doesn't affect other worlds. Still, I doubt your Command Seals will be able to work, even if you can move."_

_Raven's mind whirled at the magnitude of the event. "The time between when I enter a portal and then return to the world is near instantaneous. For the time stop to have activated at that exact same fraction of a fraction of a second should have been—"_

_"Impossible," Rider cut in. "So what? This is a Grail War. Not like that's uncommon here."_

_His gaze shifted to Berserker and he grinned. "I am Achilles. Son of Peleus. I wish to face you in honorable combat, Berserker. No weapons, no tricks, no Noble Phantasms. Just two warriors putting everything on the line for what they believe in. Do you accept these terms?"_

_Berserker looked back to Raven, his gaze asking for permission._

_Raven nodded. The revelation of Rider's true name unlocked his stats and Noble Phantasms to her master vision, or whatever it was that let her see Servants' abilities in ranks. She saw his Noble Phantasm, Andres Amarantos: Amaranth of the Brave. Suffice to say, it explained why Berserker hadn't been able to put so much as a scratch on him in their previous battles, while Lancer could. No matter how powerful the attack, without divinity it was useless (Raven was sorely missing the days when she didn't have to factor **divinity** into her battle strategies)._

_Berserker's only chance was the duel field._

_The black armored warrior turned back to Rider but paused just as he opened his mouth. He glanced down at his empty hands, then back to Raven, his eyes stormy and conflicted._

_"Rider, I, Lancelot du Lac, son of Nimue, accept your challenge," he declared. "But, if I may make a request, I would like to speak with my master before we begin. My Madness Enchantment has prevented us from conversing, and one way or another, this may be our last chance to speak."_

_Achilles raised an eyebrow but shrugged in the end. "Sure. I don't see the harm. I mean, we've literally got all the time in the world."_

_Berserker bowed his head. "Thank you. I am eternally grateful for your generosity."_

_"Don't sweat it. Just make sure you come at me with everything you've got."_

_Berserker nodded and turned to Raven. The huntress' fingers twitched towards her sword on instinct. Every other time she'd been under her Servant's stare, she'd felt like she was riding a wild animal, a rabid beast that would tear her to pieces if she'd wavered her will for even a moment._

_Now… he just looked sad. Like a beaten dog, too broken to rise anew._

_"So… Lancelot?" she managed. "Neat. Never would have pegged you for a Lancelot."_

_Berserker immediately got on one knee, forcing Raven to stumble back in shock._

_"My lady, you have my deepest apologies for my behavior. I should not have forced such a strain on you."_

_Raven knew what he was talking about. Ozpin had warned her of the toll controlling a Berserker would take on her, but she'd thought she could handle it. She had been mistaken. Between the endless nightmares and having to assert her will at all times when awake, she felt like she hadn't slept in months. If it hadn't been for the others, she didn't know what she would have done._

_Still…_

_"It's fine," she assured her Servant. "I'm strong enough to deal with the Madness Enchantment. Besides, it's not like you could help what class you were summoned into."_

_Berserker sighed. "It seems I am unfairly blessed once more. It seems my sovereign must always forgive me when I deserve to be smited."_

_Raven raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"_

_Berserker shook his head. "Apologies, master. It is a matter pertaining to my wish, nothing more."_

_Raven nodded. That made sense. It was understandable that he did not want to talk about… huh._

_"Berserker… Lancelot, what is your wish? You haven't exactly been able to tell me."_

_Berserker froze in his bowed form, but in the end, he sighed. "Judgement, my lady. When I lived, I served the most perfect king who ever lived. The nation he forged was the closest to a utopia that mankind has ever known. But the king had one fatal weakness, he could not understand human emotions, leading to several of my fellow knights' disgruntlement and one to even abandon the realm."_

_"Because the king was too perfect?" Raven inquired incredulously. "That's absurd. That's like if I went against Summer for doing her job."_

_Lancelot sighed. "Flawed as their thoughts may have been, they could not be changed. I sought to help my king, so I began to meet with the only other person I believed held the king in their heart first and foremost, the queen. And in that mutual desire to protect our friend, we ultimately laid the seeds for his ruin. We… we fell in love, and the forbidden nature of that love brought down the utopia we had worked so hard to build. And my king… forgave me without a second thought."_

_"How?" Raven wondered. To have all your work wasted, your wife stolen, and leadership crushed, how could anyone forgive the one responsible for all that? She doubted even Summer would be able to let go of someone who did all that._

_"Because he was a king, not a man. The perfect king," Lancelot glumly stated. "I must relieve him of that burden. I must allow him to forgo the crown that stalls his hand and let him unleash all the fury of a man upon me. My wish is for my king to stand before me in all his righteousness and be able to condemn me as I deserve."_

_"Your wish… is to suffer?" Raven stammered. "That's insane."_

_Oddly, Lancelot smirked. "Fitting for one of the Berserker class, don't you think? Nevertheless, it is the only path for me."_

_His face turned solemn once more. "My lady, I swear, on whatever honor I have left, I will serve you to the end of my days. I will help you claim the Grail, even if it kills me."_

_Raven was… really unsure how to take that. People pledging themselves to her wasn't exactly something she had experience with outside of her marriage. She usually just did what she knew needed to be done, no matter what anyone else said. With the exception of Summer and the rest of her team, she usually didn't get a whole lot of help with her plans._

_Still, Lancelot's words were noble, and he seemed honest. He had confessed his greatest shame outright the moment she'd asked. If he had lived with his crushing guilt until the end of his days and beyond, she could understand how he became the mindless juggernaut she'd summoned._

_She raised her chin and tried to put on her, as Summer called it, 'smirking high and mighty face'. That was what leaders did, right?_

_"I, Raven Branwen, accept your oath, Lancelot du Lac," she assured him. "Bring me victory in this fight."_

_"I will, my lady," Lancelot declared, rising to his feet. "Thank you."_

_Maybe she was imagining it, but Raven saw his shoulders rise just the tiniest bit. As if the weight of his guilt had been alleviated just a bit. She wasn't sure why, but it made her pleased that she could heal him of some of his sufferings. Maybe Summer was rubbing off on her more than she'd thought._

_Lancelot turned back towards Rider but paused. "Master, should I fall in this battle, please do not put anything in my hands."_

_Raven cocked an eyebrow. "Okay. Why?"_

_The black knight smiled forlornly. "My Noble Phantasm, Knight of Owner; A Knight Does Not Die with Empty Hands, I don't want it to activate. After all, I am not worthy of being a knight."_

_He took a stride forward and approached Rider._

_"You ready?" Achilles asked._

_Lancelot nodded. "I am. Thank you, Rider."_

_"Don't mention it."_

_"I did not just mean for that."_

_Achilles raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"_

_Lancelot closed his hand. "Ever since I was summoned, I was trapped in a cage of my own madness. An animal, more than a warrior. But with this duel, whether I win or lose, you have granted me the chance to fight and, if necessary, die as myself. For that, you have my eternal gratitude."_

_Rider smirked. "Don't worry about it. I know what it's like to be consumed by madness. Just bad luck you had to deal with yours here. Now then…"_

_He raised his fists. "My name is Achilles, son of the great warrior Peleus."_

_Lancelot mirrored his stance. "I am Lancelot du Lac, son of the fae Nimue."_

_"May our upcoming battle be fair!"_

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Raven seethed as she stumbled out of her portal and into her tent, her hand clenched around her sword in a vice grip.

Vernal raised an eyebrow. "I take it we didn't get the Rider?"

Raven scoffed as she grabbed a wooden pillar for balance. "They were riding on a chariot when I came out. I had to shift immediately to avoid falling and even then I had to dodge the lightning they were giving off."

"A flying chariot that shoots lightning? Wow," Vernal whistled. "I feel like we got the short end of the stick. We just got two crazy guys who hit hard."

" **AAAAAA** ," Lancelot snarled. He stood in the shadowy corner of the room, having calmed since Raven returned and they got back to camp, but still a wrong twitch away from going off.

Berserker materialized behind Raven, his muscled form ready to intervene if necessary, but she held up a hand for him to restrain himself.

"Lancelot, calm yourself," she ordered evenly. With the black knight's insanity restrained in her mind by her new Servant's mental fortitude, she found enforcing her will to be far easier than it once was. As was finally hearing herself think.

She walked up to the twitching Servant. Vernal looked like she would speak up for a moment, but she realized quick enough that her leader knew what she was doing.

Raven held out her hand and grasped the knight's shoulder. "I promise, my friend. You will have your king's judgment. But until then, remember your oath, son of Nimue. Remember that you swore to serve me. And calm yourself."

Perhaps it was the mention of the king, perhaps she merely caught a chink in the Madness Enchantment, but Lancelot stopped twitching like a drug addict going through withdrawal. It probably wouldn't last, nearly two decades of constant mystically induced insanity would leave anyone temperamental, but if she could keep him docile enough to be useful, that would be enough.

She did not want him to become a liability she had to put down. God knows that, as much as she missed the nights when she could sleep without nightmares, she wouldn't have survived the last nineteen years without him. The chance of ending Salem wouldn't exist without the help he'd given her. She owed him a great deal.

And Summer even more.

She turned back to Vernal, who let out a sigh of relief. Raven supposed that was warranted given the situation, but it wasn't as if she didn't still have three Command Seals and a more powerful Servant right there. She wasn't in any real danger.

"If Rider's only Noble Phantasm is his chariot and his abilities are what they appear to be, either of our Berserkers should be able to defeat him in single combat," Raven explained. "The same goes for all the Servants we encountered at Oniyuri and the cabin."

True, Ruby's Archer had been able to take a few of Berserker's lives, but the situation had obviously been dire enough for him to flee in the end. And with the vast surplus of the Spring Maiden's power, those lives lost would be restored in a few days. No great loss.

The Arc boy's Saber was wily enough to be an issue if she wasn't careful, but she would have lost her duel with Lancelot if Adam's Lancer hadn't intervened, and she was confident the inverse was true as well.

Of the masters, she was confident she could handle them. She'd taught Adam everything he knew, and despite his admittedly impressive talent, he had no defense against a maiden's power. Jaune Arc was average by the standards of Beacon students and would be no match for a full-fledged huntress. Ruby needed to be kept alive and away from her at all times, but Vernal should be able to keep her occupied until her Servant was dealt with.

And Yang… she'd figure out Yang later.

She was split on her daughter's decision to join the war. She was infuriated that Yang had chosen to place herself in Salem's path as well as get in her way. But at the same time, it took remarkable strength to get up and enter the fight despite the tragedy that had already tortured her. Despite herself, Raven was beaming with pride. Tai had taught her well.

"We don't know any of their Noble Phantasms though," Vernal pointed out. "For all we know, one of them could blow up the planet or something."

Raven scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. There's only one Noble Phantasm that can blow up a planet and I doubt it will be doing that any time soon."

All their troubles would be over if it could.

She rapidly shook her head. No point in dawdling on such wistfulness.

"Regardless, you are correct," she conceded to her lieutenant. "With the exception of Caster, we know who all the other masters are and a general idea of what the Servants can do. But none of that will matter if we get blindsided. Which means we need to learn everything about our foes."

Vernal raised an eyebrow. "And how are we going to do that? Hide outside their camps and hope they let a true name slip?"

Raven smirked. "No. We're going to school."

Vernal's eyes widened. "We're going after it? I thought you said it would just paint a target on our backs?"

"That doesn't matter now. Salem will come for us anyway once she learns of Berserker," Raven declared. "We need the Relic of Knowledge."

Vernal gulped but nodded her agreement. "Mistral's sure to be on high alert after what happened at the Vytal Festival. Who do you want to take to Haven?"

"A small team. We'll have to play this carefully to avoid drawing too much attention to ourselves. For that, we'll need those who will be able to lay low in the city for a bit."

"So… not Shay."

"Certainly not Shay."

"Alright then, I'll get started."

Vernal headed for the tent flap but paused before she could exit.

"What is it?" Raven inquired.

Vernal hesitated. Her mouth opened, then closed again, then finally asked, "What do we do about the Assassin team?"

Raven involuntarily shuddered at the thought. She was confident she could deal with Kirei Kotomine, the man who had her best friend's gun and sentenced her husband to agony. She even believed that with the Relic of Knowledge's power, she could find a way to beat Kiritsugu Emiya, a man that Summer's stories had made into a legend in her eyes.

But Gilgamesh… if he found out she was alive…

She had to be careful, or she'd end up just like Summer.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

"Woooooohooooooo!" Yang cheered.

Flying was awesome!

Sure, she had flown before. Bullheads had been common enough in Vale and on Patch, and huntress training had multiple practical courses on taking on aerial Grimm. Heck, Beacon initiation threw her off a cliff.

But Iskandar's chariot… the lightning, the clouds and birds streaming behind like they were standing still (she'd laughed when they'd nearly run over a panicked raven. She'd imagined it was her mother), the feeling of the air rushing against you so fast it felt like it would have peeled her skin off her face without her aura…

It was unthinkable.

It was amazing!

And all the while, the King of Conquerors' melodious laughter filled the air.

The Gordius Wheel's speed was incredible. They had only left Vale a few days ago, and already they were flying across the Anima countryside, Mistral barely a day away according to the map Professor Goodwitch gave her. In less than a day, she'd be seeing Ruby and Blake again.

"Hahaha! Indeed, master! There is little greater than the feeling of the wind in your hair as you ride towards the horizon!" Iskandar proclaimed. "Conquest awaits! The city of Mistral shall be ours!"

"Yeah!" Yang cheered. "So, what's the plan when we get there?"

Iskandar chortled. "Plan? Ha! Simple. We get to Mistral, join with your sister and her allies, have them join my invincible army, then track down the other Servants."

Yang raised a golden eyebrow, noting a few missing steps near the end. "And, when we find the other Servants?"

"We offer them a place in my army, and if they refuse, we face them in glorious battle!"

Yang frowned. "And when we fight them? What's the plan then?"

Iskandar looked confused. "We fight them. What else would we do at that junction?"

"Do you actually have a plan for taking on the Servants?"

"Without knowledge of their identities and abilities? No," Iskandar confessed, a serious expression on his face. "Girl, it is rare you go into battle with the luxury of knowing all your enemy's capabilities. The best you can do is try to maximize your own skills and keep aware, so you are not caught off-guard."

Yang sighed. "I guess that makes sense. Still, I wish we had something resembling a plan."

"Please don't take offense to this, master, but you don't seem like someone who relies too much on pre-battle planning," Iskandar observed. "Especially not from the recordings Peter showed me of your fights in that Vytal Festival tournament."

"I wasn't," Yang snorted. "And it nearly got me killed."

Iskandar sighed and shook his head. "You're worried about facing that Kotomine fellow again, aren't you?"

Yang nodded.

Kirei had said a lot to unbalance her before the fight. She now recognized that a lot of it was just mind game crap. She could live for herself, not for some grand dream.

But still, other things he'd mentioned had merit, they wouldn't have hit as hard as they did without it. There were blows she just couldn't take. And that meant she couldn't just mindlessly rush in.

There was nothing wrong with living for the moment, but the tunnel vision it gave during a battle was potentially deadly. She needed to fight with a plan. Her training with her dad would help, but she felt like she needed more.

"If you fight solely with instinct, you will be outmaneuvered as you were before," Iskandar concurred. "But if you wrap yourself up fretting over some overly detailed plan, you will be just as helpless. You know what you can do. You have taken steps to minimize your previous weaknesses. And at least, in this case, you have an idea of what your opponent can do. Other than trying to force the battle onto favorable terrain, there isn't much more you can do."

"Maybe," Yang admitted. "But it still feels like doing nothing."

"A large part of war is doing nothing. Waiting for the opportunity to strike," Iskandar informed her. "When we get some downtime, we can work to sharpen your skills, but other than that, you should put the battle out of your mind. It will just unbalance you."

Yang sighed. "I just don't want to be the same girl who got knocked into a coma. I don't want to be some idiot cocky brute."

Iskandar clapped her on the back. "There are quite a few great idiots in the world. You know where your weakness lies, and that puts you among them. Look at my goal. I wish to conquer the entire world. The entire world! That is a fool's ambition. To dream of overtaking and surpassing all else. But I seek it nonetheless, knowing my own weakness. Just like you, I seek to move forward despite my failings."

"So, what you're saying is that because I know where I'm weak, I can try to fix it?"

"Indeed. Or find a way to make sure it doesn't stop you anyway. The difference between a confident idiot and a cocky fool is that the former acknowledges their weakness and works to overcome them. As long as you do that, you will be—"

He suddenly stopped talking, his head turning towards the north, his eyes clouded with grim concentration. He frowned at the forming dark clouds.

"What's wrong?" Yang asked worriedly. "You sense something?"

Iskandar nodded. "Another Servant. A powerful one."

Yang gulped. It looked like their war might be starting sooner than she thought. "Can you take them?"

"Hard to say," The King of Conquerors confessed. "Normally I would have no doubt but something about this one's presence feels… wrong. This is no normal Servant."

Yang glanced down to her right arm, newly healed. Did she dare risk worse?

She saw the Command Seals on the back of her hand. She didn't have a choice.

She turned to Rider. "Should we go after them?"

Iskandar thought about it, but eventually, he nodded gravely. "In war, you rarely know the enemy's position for long. If you wait when you know the enemy's location, it will be too late for regrets once you've missed your chance."

"Alright then."

Yang took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Let's do this. But be careful. We wouldn't want to accidentally attack Ruby or Jaune's Servant if it's them."

"I deeply hope it is, master." Iskandar cracked the reins of the divine bulls and turned the chariot north. "On!"

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Emerald double checked the bullhead's systems. There were some dangerous looking clouds up ahead, but with Caster's reinforcement still holding strong, they would be fine.

"We're almost there," she called back to the Ice Queen. "We should be at Haven by tomorrow."

"Finally," Weiss sighed. "If I had to go one more night without an actual bed, I think I might have killed you."

It was probably meant as a joke, she and Caster were central to Salem's efforts in the war, but after what she'd done to her brother, Emerald couldn't help the shiver that went down her spine. She had held some form of admiration for the old Weiss as, despite being a bitch, was the only thing approaching a realist among the impossibly happy band that was Team RWBY. Keeping those fools focused could not have been easy, and the heiress' impressive displays during their battle at her mansion and their spars at Salem's castle had only enhanced her respect. She would always deride the girl for the silver spoon she was born with, but she certainly hadn't wasted it. She was smart.

Then, she came out of that mud and suddenly, she was an animal. An apex predator in human form. The intelligence was still there, but now it was unbalanced by the same insane fanaticism that Tyrian had had. Except while he would just butcher someone like a pig if he snapped, Weiss would toy with them, make them despair as they slowly realized just how doomed they were.

Her Servant's juvenile prodding only seemed to make it worse. And also more terrifying since Lancer Alter's tremendous power made it so Weiss really could take her time with her victims.

Suffice to say, Emerald checked Caster's backup plans were ready to go every day they were together with their teammates.

Lancer Alter rose from his seat and went over the left window. "What's out there?"

Emerald raised an eyebrow. "Nothing. The Nuckelavee has destroyed every settlement in this area. There's no one here."

"Is the Nuckelavee some weird looking horse-rider monstrosity?"

"…Yes… Why?"

Lancer Alter grinned. "Because it seems to be screeching at us."

"You cannot be seriously thinking of stalling us again just to fight some random beast that is on our side?" Caster accused.

Lancer shrugged. "So what if I am? This thing is supposed to be powerful and it’s screeching at us. Why not give it a chance to prove its strength?"

"As pleasant as that would be, Lancer, we have a timetable to keep," Weiss instructed. "The Queen may be willing to indulge our desire for entertainment, but when we are so close to our destination, she will not take kindly to distractions."

Lancer rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll just head to Mistral and see—What?"

He stared out the window and squinted. A smile bloomed on his face. "Well, well, well, ain’t that a happy coincidence."

"What are you talking about Lancer?" Weiss inquired.

"There's another Servant down there."

"What?" Caster gasped. "I don't sense anything."

Lancer shrugged. "I doubt you would. Their _prana_ signature's faint. I don't think I would have felt them without the Queen's boost. Hell, if it's the girl down there who I think it is, I'm pretty sure she's riding a monkey. She’d have to be pretty low on energy to need to do that."

"Monkey?" Weiss asked, her hand rising to scratch her chin in thought.

"Not a literal monkey," Lancer elaborated. "One of those faunus the Grail mentioned."

"Obviously," Emerald pointed out. "The Grail would never choose an actual monkey as a master."

"I would not dismiss the possibility," Lancer argued. "It has done crazier things."

"Is there anyone else with the Servant and the monkey faunus, Lancer?" Weiss inquired. "Maybe a boy with blue hair, or a long-haired girl with a black bow?"

Emerald recognized the descriptions immediately and her face went pale. Oh no…

"Hmm… No on the blue har, but there is a girl with a black bow," Lancer observed. "You know them?"

Weiss broke out into a feral grin. "Indeed. Lancer, I don't believe the Queen will mind if we are a bit late, so long as we get one step closer to the Grail."

"No," Emerald protested. "The Queen said to get to Haven. We can worry about the other Servants once we've rendezvoused with the others. With all of our Servants together, none of the other teams will stand a chance."

"We don't need the others for this," Lancer chuckled. "There's only one little girl. Unless it's the King of Heroes, I can take on any of the other Servants myself. Who knows, they might even make it interesting."

"We have no idea who that Servant is or what the nature of their Noble Phantasm could be," Caster scolded. "You are risking everything for your bloodlust!"

"Yeah. And your point?"

"Argh!"

Weiss drew her sword and gingerly massaged the black blade. A predator's smirk came to her lips. "Don't worry so much, Emerald. Lancer is perfectly capable of annihilating any Servant. There is no danger. Besides, I want to skin a cat."

"No," Emerald refused. Mercury had gone off on his own to kill Yang, something that should have been a walk in the park for him, and hadn't come back. Tyrian had eagerly jumped into a fight with Crystal Schnee and had gotten a bunch of ice spears through the chest for his overconfidence. Now it was happening again, except this time, she doubted Salem would be willing to shrug off losing her Alter Servant summoner. "We are not stopping. We are heading straight to Haven."

Weiss glared at her. Then she grinned and shared a look with Lancer Alter. "Very well."

She nodded.

Lancer smiled.

Faster than the eye could see, Lancer smashed through the cockpit window and leaped into the air, the shattered glass not even slowing him down.

Emerald clamped down on the controls in a desperate attempt to keep from being sucked out from the pressure equalization. "You bitch!"

Weiss shrugged and soared out the window, cushioning her fall with a glyph every few feet.

Caster waved her hand and a mystic sigil materialized over the hole in the bullhead, allowing Emerald to slump back into her seat.

She smacked her head into the aircraft's controls and wailed in frustration. "WHY? Why do I always get stuck with the idiot psychopaths?"

Caster gave her a comforting pat on the back.

Emerald sighed. "We have to go after them, don't we?"

Caster nodded reluctantly.

Emerald growled and turned the ship around.


	41. The Black Hound Bares his Fangs

Blake covered her ears as the group walked into the ruins of Kuroyuri, the Nuckelavee’s incessant screeching grating on her sensitive hearing.

“Guess it knows we’re here,” Nora muttered.

“Good,” Mordred growled. Clarent burst into her hand in a shower of crimson sparks. “Even a monster should see the face of its executioner.”

Both of the girls had dismounted from Ren and Sun, with Nora’s muscles having recovered enough to move, and Mordred to get ready for the fight. They had sent Ruby and the others the all-clear signal as soon as they got down the mountain, so with any luck, Jaune would be there soon to supply his Servant with power.

“Great, but does it have to be this loud?” Sun complained, his hands over his own ears. He turned to Ren. “Does it do this often? Is it some kind of special attack? Ren?”

Ren’s fists closed around the hilts of Stormflower, his normally calm pink eyes narrowed in alien fury. His body shook as they approached the town square.

“Ren.” Nora murmured. She tried to put a comforting hand on her partner’s shoulder, but he shoved it off in his focus.

Blake saw Mordred’s eyes narrow. Fortunately, the cat faunus caught up to the ninja first. She snagged his side before he could charge forward. “Hey. Calm down.”

Ren tried to force his way through her. “I am calm.”

“No. You’re not,” Blake growled. “You’re angry. That’s fine. You have every right to be angry. That thing… that _monster_ … killed your parents. It deserves to die. It will die. But this won’t help…”

She braced her hands against his shoulders. “Take it from the world’s leading expert on jumping into things recklessly. If you go into this letting your emotions control you, we’re going to make a mistake and that could cost us everything.”

Ren took a deep breath. He shut his eyes, his mind surely churning within.

Nora came up behind him and grasped his shoulder, this time ensuring that he could not break free. She forced him to face her, and when he opened his eyes, he saw her smile.

Ren sighed. “I… I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

“You won’t,” Sun promised, patting his friend on the back. “We can handle this. But if you’re not sure, we can wait for the others to get here. It’s not like this thing is going anywhere.”

“There’s no need,” Mordred declared. “I can deal with one Grimm. It’ll be over before you can blink.”

“See, Ren?” Nora squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to worry about.”

Ren unclenched his fists, but he did not smile. “Thank you, Saber. But if at all possible, I want to be the one to kill it. I need to.”

Nora frowned, as did Blake. They knew combat wasn’t something you could plan for, or call _dibs_ or something childish like that. Letting a personal grudge restrict how you could defeat an enemy was just plain foolish.

Surprisingly, Mordred did not lambast him for it. Instead, she gave him a solemn stare. “I get that. I know what’s it’s like to have to be the one to do something. But I can’t make you any promises.”

Ren nodded. “That’s fine. I understand.”

“Good,” Mordred stated. “Let’s go.”

She, Ren, and Sun advanced forward. Blake moved to follow when Nora snagged her arm.

“Thank you.” she mouthed warmly.

Blake nodded and the two moved on.

Soon enough, the group came to the town square. In the center was a massive, decrepit tree fit for a hangman, its branches spindling out like a spider’s web.

On the other side of the courtyard, its massive cloven hoofs desperately trying to climb a crumbling tower, was a monstrosity.

Most Grimm, you could tell had some resemblance to an animal of some type, Beowolves to wolves and Deathstalkers to scorpions and the like. It didn’t really mean much, but it did provide a sense of familiarity, an understandability that made the creatures of darkness easier to face down.

This abomination didn’t have that. The closest thing Blake could compare it to was a horrific fusion of a horse with its rider. The lower half was simple enough, but the upper body was demonic, with clawed, gangly arms and a horned, hollow face with a gaping red maw. Broken arrows and spears stuck out of its back, memories of all those who’d fallen before it in vain.

If this was the beast that ruined Ren’s life, Blake could understand how it could haunt his nightmares.

Sun gulped. “That it?”

The Nuckelavee howled into the sky, its infernal screech like splinters in Blake’s ears.

Ren scowled. “That’s it.”

Mordred stepped forward, Yang’s brown jacket blowing behind her. “Perfect.”

She raised Clarent. “Nuckelavee! I am Mordred! Son and heir of Arthur Pendragon, the King of Knights! You have terrorized the innocent of these lands for too long! And now you will know judgment!”

The Nuckelavee ignored her. Instead, it kept its focus on the sky.

Mordred’s eyebrow twitched. “I said, you will know judgment!”

“Who cares what it knows?” Ren snarled. He raised Stormflower. “Let’s end this.”

“Wait! Why isn’t it attacking us?” Blake protested. She narrowed her eyes at the Grimm, the monster not paying them the slightest heed. “Why is it even here? What drew it away from its cave?”

What could be producing more negativity than Ren was? What was so powerful that they were invisible next to it?

The whine of an engine broke through the sky. A gray bullhead through over the town.

The Nuckelavee howled at it.

“A ship?” Sun muttered. “What the hell is anyone doing all the way out here?”

Mordred glared at the aircraft. “I will not be ignored like some common—”

Her eyes went wide.

“Mor-Mor, are you okay?” Nora asked.

“All of you get back!” the Servant howled.

Blake’s eyebrow shot up. “What do you mean? What’s—”

It all happened so fast. One second, the Nuckelavee was baying into the sky. The next, a streak of black and red tore down through the air and demolished the entire tower in a massive explosion.

Blake strained to keep herself on her feet, the whirlwind from the collision tearing past them all.

When the dust of the impact cleared, the Nuckelavee laid broken on the ground. The rider whined pitifully as it dissipated into nothingness.

Standing atop its broken corpse, was a muscular man in pitch black armor, a lumbering tail raised down his back. Engraved in his bare chest was a plethora of crimson runes, subtly glowing with murderous intent. In his hand was a blood red spear, with spikes jutting out of every bare surface on the shaft. The weapon seemed to pant with excitement, its bloodlust radiating through the air.

Blake’s knees buckled, terror flashing through her. Sun and Nora both stumbled backward.

Ren… Ren was too stunned to do anything but stare in shock.

“Saber…” Blake whispered. “What is…”

“I told you to get back!” Mordred commanded with finality. She stood protectively before the rest of them, but Blake could see Clarent shake in her grip.

The man atop the Nuckelavee sighed. “Really? One blow? Again? Humanity must really be pathetic these days if this is all it takes to make them run and hide.”

He turned towards their group. His crimson eyes lit up as they locked onto Mordred. He flashed a fanged smile. “I take it you’re the Servant I sensed? Judging by your weapon, I’d say you’re the Saber, right?”

Mordred growled. “I am Saber, yes. And who are you? You feel like a Servant but you’re… wrong.”

“Wrong? Now that’s just rude,” the man pouted, almost playful. “We’re all warriors here, aren’t we, little girl?”

Mordred’s glare narrowed, but she didn’t fly into a rage at the mention of her gender.

That alone made Blake tighten her grip on Gambol Shroud.

“Nonetheless, you are correct. I am a Servant,” the man continued. “Lancer in fact, if my weapon didn’t clue you in.”

“You dare lie to my face!” Mordred shouted indignantly. “I’ve already encountered the Lancer of this war, so don’t bother with your little deception! And I’ve already seen Berserker as well before you even think of trying that!”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Really? You fought two other Servants already? Man, I really am behind. Oh well. At least I know I’m getting the winner. Though I assure you, I am a Lancer Servant. As for my inclusion in this war, well, let’s just say my queen has her ways.”

Blake gulped. “Queen? You mean Salem?”

“Oh? You know about that? Do you, Blake?”

The faunus huntress froze.

She heard the words. She couldn’t have missed them.

But the voice… she knew that voice…

But that was impossible. How could she be there? She was safe in Atlas.

Blake slowly looked up at the roof of one of the broken buildings surrounding the square. Her eyes widened, and her heart stopped.

The dress was different, darker and more regal, befitting her royal status far more than the jacket and skirt she’d worn at Beacon. Her eyes glowed a sickly yellow with demonic black veins pulsing across her face. Her sword, once a thin sliver of magnificent silver, was now a pure splinter of darkness.

Yet, the rest was there.

The snow-white hair. The pointed face. The stance with the front foot just the perfect distance forward.

“ _Weiss_?” Blake whispered, the name echoing out like a breathless incantation.

Her teammate smirked, her eyes cold and pitiless. “You remember my name? Isn’t that a surprise? And here I’d thought you’d have the decency to have forgotten completely?”

“Forgotten you?” Nora asked carefully. “What are you talking about? How could we forget you?”

“Actually, I have no idea who this is,” Mordred piped up. “Care to give me a rundown?”

“That’s Weiss. She’s the fourth member of Team RWBY,” Sun explained quickly. “Her dad took her back to Atlas after The Fall of Beacon. We haven’t heard from her since.”

Weiss snorted. “Missing a few details, _monkey_ , but I suppose it’s only natural.” She glanced down at the black Servant below. “Impressive for a mangy beast, wouldn’t you say, Lancer Alter?”

“Mangy…” Sun bristled.

Blake blanched. Weiss didn’t originally have a great opinion of the faunus, but she was never intentionally racist. Certainly not to someone she knew like Sun. She’d deride his character all day long, but she’d never insult his species.

Something was wrong.

“Weiss, what are you doing here?” Blake inquired desperately. “Who is this guy? What happened to you?”

“What happened to me?” Weiss cackled madly. She raised her sword, a black mark standing out on the back of her pale hand. “Why, my dear Blake, it’s really a funny story. You know how you were terrified about Yang becoming a bit more bloodthirsty…”

A massive black glyph erupted across the ground behind Lancer Alter. Dark mud surged out of the sigil and lathered over the rubble of the tower.

“You were right to worry. You just had the wrong teammate.”

Like an Atlas robot rising from a pool of molten metal, two specters rose from the mud.

One was a hulking suit of armor, an ethereal spirit somehow keeping the phantom steel standing. The other was far more familiar.

Finally, the Nuckelavee screeched at them.

Blake flinched as she and Sun were forced to cover their ears. Nora raised her hammer protectively.

Ren just stood and stared. His eyes blank.

“Get back!” Mordred shouted. “All of you, get back!”

“Hmm…” Weiss muttered to herself as she tapped her chin. “No. No. I think I can do better. Don’t you, Lancer?”

“I have no doubt, my lady,” Lancer Alter encouraged with a confident smirk. “Just make sure you leave the Saber to me.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want some monster stealing my kill either.”

She glared at Blake with frigid hatred. The yellow glow in her eyes amplified a hundred-fold.

The black glyph below mirrored the power increase. The ghostly form of the knight expanded and encompassed the Nuckelavee. The monster howled as the armor sank into its dark flesh, melding and churning like iron yet to be struck.

At last, the beast gave a final screech, and a black whirlwind ripped through the air. Mordred canceled the shockwave with a slash of her own red lightning, but that didn’t calm Blake one bit.

A new, corporeal Grimm stalked out of the dark miasma, one more ferocious and deadly than either of its components.

It had the basic form of the Nuckelavee, with the rider still merged with the massive horse. But where before there had been vulnerable flesh and shattered spears, there was now hard black steel, thick enough to take a paladin’s shot. The branching spikes from the creature’s forehead were replaced with the intimidating helm of the knight. The mangled, lithe arms remained loose and limber, but the rancid claws were gone. Instead, massive broadswords took their place.

Before, the beast had been the stuff of nightmares. Now… Blake didn’t know if she’d ever sleep again.

Nora backed away, Magnhild shaking in her hands. “What… How?”

“Be strong, Lady Nora,” Mordred encouraged. “I won’t let it touch you.”

“Might be pretty tough to keep that promise,” Lancer taunted. “Especially if you’re dealing with me.”

He readied his spiked spear. “Well, however long you _can_ deal with me, at least. At your command, my lady.”

Blake rapidly turned to her teammate. The girl she’d never thought could be her friend and yet against all odds had become her sister. “Weiss, please. Talk to me.”

Weiss feigned thinking about her words. “Talk to you? Now, why would I do that? Gutting you like the animal you are sounds like so much more fun. Arma Nuckelavee, eliminate them!”

The mounted Grimm roared, and Lancer Alter charged.

 

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_Fire._

_That was all there was. A limitless orange inferno igniting a dark sky._

_A pale man in gold, true gold, soared through the air. In his hands was a divine lance, worthy of the king, though not in his storehouse._

_It was a god’s weapon, yet the pale man wielded it finer than any meager spirit ever could. The gold evaporated from around the warrior and the spear erupted into its true form, a towering black and red halberd. The blaze that radiated from it melted the darkness of the hellish landscape, a second sun of truth and valor._

_It might actually be a challenge to fell._

_The King raised it up, his greatest weapon, his second most trusted treasure. He spoke the words of genesis, and the world met the sun._

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“Ergh…” Ruby groaned. She slowly sat up in her sleeping bag. “Stupid weird magic dreams. How am I supposed to save the world if I can’t even get a good night’s sleep?”

“My apologies on that front, master,” Archer comforted her. He stood above her, leaning against a nearby tree. “The memory cycle does not normally last so long, but most Servants don’t have eons of service as a Counter Guardian to work through.”

They’d received the go-ahead call from Blake’s group about an hour ago. Ozpin had taken Jaune and Uncle Qrow to make sure the teleporter was ready to go, leaving Ruby alone with her Servant for the first time since the battle in Unlimited Bladeworks. Qrow had grumbled about it, but Ruby had assured him she would be fine and Ozpin couldn’t afford to leave things to chance, or otherwise he might beam them all into a tree or something.

That would probably be quite the embarrassing way for a team of aspiring heroes to go.

Ruby sighed. “No. It’s fine. Not like there’s anything you can do about it. Still…”

Her eyes narrowed in thought.

“What is it?” Archer inquired.

“It’s just… I don’t know. This one didn’t _feel_ like the other memories I’ve seen,” Ruby elaborated. Whenever she’d seen something from Archer’s past, there was always an ethereal element to it, something that made it seem grander in her mind. It’d been so epic, she’d thought that was just what it was like to look back on the life of a hero.

But this vision… it was abstract, cluttered. So absolutely brimming with power, she could barely even comprehend it at all. Aside from the fire and the gold, the only thing she’d been able to recognize was…

“Gilgamesh was there,” she concluded. “He was fighting someone. Someone powerful. He was holding… something. I don’t know. It was powerful though. Familiar, but more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

Archer scratched his chin in thought. “Familiar, you say? That’s a strange way to describe it.”

“Do you remember what it could be?”

The Servant shrugged. “Not definitively, no. I’ve lived so many lifetimes, most of my earlier memories have faded away. I know Saber and I defeated Gilgamesh in our Holy Grail War, and she was one of the few people he could conceivably decide to fight with his greatest weapons, but I can’t recall the exact scenario. It’s possible that my own inability to recall the event is affecting your vision.”

“Well, that sucks,” Ruby remarked. The memory cycle was upsetting as it was, what with Archer’s past being what it was, but at least it gave her insight into her new uncle’s thoughts. If they started becoming abstract, she wouldn’t learn anything.

Unless…

That was how most people did it. Heck, it was how she’d made the most progress with him.

“Uncle Shirou…”

“Please, master.” Archer cut in. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it is best if you keep calling me Archer.”

Ruby pouted. “Is this a tactics thing, or do you just not like being called your name?”

“Both.” he declared. “There is no reason to give our enemies’ any more information about my capabilities then we absolutely have to, despite the obscurity of my legend. But yes, I am not particularly fond of remembering _that boy_.”

“What boy? You?” Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Do you really hate yourself so much?”

“I detest the fool who chased a hopeless ideal so much he became me, yes,” Archer growled. “The less I have to remember my past life, the better.”

Ruby frowned and rose to her feet. Her silver eyes met Archer’s own. “Come on. There’s got to be something in your past that you like.”

“You’ve had an up close and personal look at it for months.” he challenged. “What have you seen?”

That was a fair question. Of all the memories she’d witnessed from Archer’s past, none could be called pleasant. Between his massacres as a Counter Guardian and his ideals betraying him on the hill of swords, almost everything he had seen and done had been completely hopeless. Even Kiritsugu saving him from the fire, something that drove him throughout his life, had been soured as the first step on his path to hell. All his triumphs had. All except…

“Saber.” Ruby declared. “The moment you summoned Arturia, when you saw her in the moonlight.”

The moment when there was wonder in the eyes of Shirou Emiya.

It may have been one of the only happy memories, but it was also the clearest. It was the moment when the unattainable dream seemed the closest to reality.

When the world stopped and basked in the presence of a true hero.

Seemingly as proof, Archer cracked a smile. “Fair enough. Of all the terrible things that happened in my life, meeting Saber… that almost makes it worth it.”

“What was she like?” Ruby inquired.

“Probably similar to how she was when you knew her, at least in some ways. She was kind, focused, and unrelenting. She had one goal and she was determined to see it through, but she did not seem to let it consume her. She was restricted by my limitations as a mage, but she never once blamed me, even helping me improve what meager skills I did possess. And when the time came… she was able to do the one thing I never could. She let go. She let the past be buried and passed on peacefully.”

Ruby grinned. “She sounds just as amazing as she was here.”

“Indeed.” Archer mused merrily. “In all my years, I have not once come across a finer hero than her.”

It was a good moment. For the first time, Ruby could look back on her short time with Arturia and not feel the guilt of having been saved over Pyrrha, but admiration for the hero who’d saved her. The King of Knights, in her brilliant shining armor, protecting her on top of Beacon Tower, unwavering even in the face of annihilation.

Plus, she got to see Archer actually happy, even if it was only from the remnants of better times.

Actually, he looked kind of like dad did when he talked about… mom.

Oh.

_Oh._

Ruby’s face turned beet red. “Um, Archer? This is probably ridiculous, I’m really bad at reading social cues and all, but… you talking about how you liked Arturia and everything… you don’t mean you… _liked,_ liked her? Do you?”

Archer’s smile didn’t fade, merely taking on a wistful tinge. “Always.”

Ruby’s eyes nearly rolled back into her head.

That was… that was…

If Archer had a thing with Arturia in another timeline, did that mean that Jaune was her cousin?

But if Archer was her mom’s alternate timeline counterpart, didn’t that make them siblings?

Why?

_Why?_

Why did magic have to make things stupidly complicated?!?

“Hey, Ruby!”

“I am not your sister!” she wailed, whirling around.

A moment later, she realized what she said and smacked her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were wide as her face paled in embarrassment.

Jaune, who’d just arrived, raised an eyebrow. “Oookay. Good to know. I’ve got enough siblings as it is without getting another surprise addition.”

Ruby nodded eagerly. She really wanted to forget this line of conversation.

Off to the side, Archer chuckled. “Anything you need, Arc?”

“Ozpin said he’s finished the last touches on the teleporter,” he informed them. “Once he finishes proofing it against Qrow’s semblance in a few minutes, we’ll be heading out.”

“Great!” Ruby chirped. “Just great! We’ll be there soon.”

“Right. See you there.”

Jaune headed off back to the cabin ruins.

Ruby sighed in relief.

Archer smirked. “You know, for the sake of honesty, we should probably tell him—”

“Don’t you dare!” Ruby commanded, whirling on her Servant. “We have enough going on without turning this into something out of Blake’s smut books.”

“But master, you did ask me not to lie to them anymore—”

“Don’t make me use a Command Seal!”

Archer burst out laughing. “As you command, my master. I shall keep my silence on the matter.”

“Thank you.” Ruby huffed.

Despite the prodding though, she couldn’t help but grin. After all, Archer had smiled. Yes, it had elements of his usual mocking smirk, but this felt kinder. More like the grin Yang or Uncle Qrow had when they teased her. This wasn’t Archer being mean, it was them having fun. It was them being friends. Maybe one day he would let her call him Uncle Shirou.

One day…

But until then, it was time to reunite with her other friends. It would be good to see Blake in person again.

 

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Weiss was _ecstatic_ to see Blake again.

Really, what had Emerald expected her to do when she’d learned her old _friend_ was so close. Just fly on by? Never.

They’d left her to rot. Perhaps the Queen had turned out to be her savior in the end, but they hadn’t even tried to rescue her. For that, she’d see them suffer.

_The CCT’s down. How could they have known—_

**They should have saved us first! They should have never let the Schnee take us!**

_… yes… Yes._

_Black the Beast descends from shadows. Now they shall claim her once again._

It wouldn’t be too difficult. Lancer Alter had already pounced on that pathetic Saber (was that Yang’s jacket she was wearing? That wouldn’t end well), slamming the blonde girl throughout the courtyard like a ping pong ball. Really, it was laughable to watch. Cu Chulainn wasn’t even trying and he was still rag dolling her like a newborn child. The girl’s sword would sometimes spark with hints of crimson electricity, but Lancer would easily bat aside her pitiful resistance and send her flying once more.

Ren, Nora, and that filthy monkey Sun weren’t doing any better against the Arma Nuckelavee. She’d been pondering the fusion of Grimm every since she’d started thinking about the race’s variety. Certainly, different roles would be required for Salem’s forces, but why had the Queen created both Creepers and Beowolves? The latter retained the speed of the former while being far more versatile in combat. So why bother with both?

Perhaps boredom? Perhaps some species had evolved naturally as mankind developed more advanced methods of dealing with past monstrosities? Did it matter?

The point was that Grimm could evolve. That she could _make_ them evolve, if she so chose. She doubted she could ever make them strong enough to match a real Servant, especially with improvisation, but still…

The Arma Nuckelavee swept its sword arms across the courtyard, slicing down the spindly tree in the center and forcing its prey to jump for cover. The group’s counterfire bounced uselessly off the beast’s new armor, with even Nora’s grenades proving ineffective.

Yes, she was quite satisfied with her new creation.

**We should be. It is a wondrous thing.**

Weiss smirked with satisfaction. Her skill truly was something to behold.

Of course, her direct combat was nothing to shake a stick at either.

Four black glyphs materialized in the air around her. From each, the phantasmal sword of an Arma Gigas emerged, and at her command, they fired.

A bit off from the others, Blake helplessly dodged around the plaza, the broken cobblestone erupting into dust wherever one of the phantom swords struck where the huntress once was. She’d been forced to abandon her allies or risk them being torn apart by the barrage as they focused on the Arma Nuckelavee.

Credit where credit was due, Blake was doing far better than most would likely be able to manage under such circumstances. Emotionally unbalanced and facing a strategy taken from both Caster and the King of Heroes, the nimble cat faunus had still proved herself agile enough to avoid every bombardment, rarely even needing to use her semblance.

Such endurance pleased Weiss. After all, her friend couldn’t suffer if she couldn’t survive.

“Having fun, Blake?” she called out mockingly. “Is this a good pace, or would you like me to actually start trying?”

Blake panted hard, desperately trying to make her way to the hollow building Weiss stood upon. An Arma sword _whooshed_ past her side and exploded in a burst of shrapnel.

Weiss chuckled. “Trying it is then.”

She snapped her fingers and her four glyphs doubled to eight.

Blake’s eyes widened. “Weiss… please… this isn’t you.”

“It is now.”

The swords flew, descending like black rain.

Blake couldn’t hope to dodge them all. The cat faunus drew Gambol Shroud’s sheath as a second blade and leapt into the sky to meet the oncoming barrage, slipping something into the main weapon as she flew.

**Such foolishness.**

_No. She has a plan._

Blake could be reckless, emotional. But in combat, that just made her more dangerous.

Indeed, when the blades struck, the huntress phased above them, leaving behind only a clone. But not a normal clone.

No, this one was made of fire.

From the fire dust _she’d_ given _her_.

When the phantasmal barrage struck, the clone exploded in a rush of flame and wind, the shockwave pushing Blake high above Weiss’ roof.

Weiss waved her sword and angled her glyphs skyward. Another volley of ghostly blades burst through the air. She narrowed her stare and conjured a ninth sigil behind her, one far larger than the others.

Blake dived down into the storm of swords, dodging some, using a shadow clone to escape others. In end, she landed on the roof, on her knees and breathing hard, but alive.

Weiss mockingly clapped her hands. “Marvelous, simply marvelous, Blake Belladonna. Miss Goodwitch would give you full marks, I’m sure.”

Blake warily rose to her feet, her golden eyes staring pleadingly into Weiss’ own. “Please. Weiss just talk to me. What happened to you?”

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to talk.” she snarled back. The largest glyph behind her accelerated its spinning.

“The last we heard, you were safe in Atlas.” Blake pressed on. “How did Salem get you? What did she do to you?”

Weiss glared at her former teammate. “There was no _safety_ in Atlas. I was with my bastard family, imprisoned like some powerless dreg. If Emerald hadn’t brought me to the Queen, I would have remained weak forever, unable to realize my full potential.”

“By siding with the Mother of Grimm?” Blake shouted incredulously. “Weiss, she’s evil!”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Really? I hadn’t noticed. But I guess when dealing with an abusive lout as a father and a former terrorist as a teammate, you tend to lower your expectations. Of course, she’s evil! Everyone on the planet is! She’s just honest about it. And now, so am I.”

Blake’s face crumpled into despair. “You’re not evil. You’re my friend. You’re Weiss Schnee!”

Weiss narrowed her eyes. Her fist clenched and Myrtenaster rose to point accusingly at her foe. The ninth glyph exploded in purple light. When it faded, the Queen Lancer emerged from the flash, its pincers baying for battle and blood.

“I have evolved far beyond the limits of a mere _Schnee_.”

 

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Cu Chulainn was disappointed.

Though, perhaps he had set his hopes a bit too high. The Queen was hardly what he’d look for in a master, forcing his loyalty through his alteration, but she’d proved reasonable enough. Despite the whispers that popped up in his head now and again, she trusted him to do his job and was willing to let him do it his way, with all the glorious battle that promised. Being partnered with a beautiful and competent woman certainly didn’t hurt either.

After that initial set up though, he’d found the flight to Mistral quite dull. Caster and her master were hardly conversationalists, and while speaking with Weiss was certainly enjoyable, the journey was still lacking in any sort of fulfillment. If those Lancer Grimm hadn’t provided the incredibly brief respite they did, he probably would have jumped out and run all the way to Mistral, killing anything that challenged him along the way.

When he’d sensed Saber, he’d thought his luck had finally turned for the better. True, short pants and a brown jacket wasn’t the expected combat attire for one of the three Knight Classes, even with that blue and gold scabbard at her waist, but he had known warriors who’d charged into battle naked and was currently wearing the bones of a dead sea monster as armor. He wasn’t going to judge a book by its cover.

Unfortunately, Saber proved herself to be a complete bore. Maybe it was his new form’s insanely heightened abilities, or the Queen’s limitless _dark prana_ allowing him to fight without concern for fuel limitations, but he was not getting anything out of their battle. She was slow as a snail and her strikes might as well have been a light breeze. Hell, he was taking it _way_ easy on her and he was still knocking her around like a ragdoll.

How was he supposed to experience the thrill of facing worthy opponents, if the strongest class was apparently a complete pushover?

Saber struggled to her feet from the last blow he dealt her, using her sword like a cane to support her failing body. A gash above her right eye dripped blood down the side of her face.

Normally, that would get Gae Bolg thirsty, but even his Gouging Piercing Spear of Carnage could tell just how underwhelming their foe was. What a joke. There was no point in suffering the pain to his arm for such a measly opponent. Hell, if he hadn’t lost it in his altering, he would just hit her with the Barbed Spear that Pierces with Death and be done with it.

Cu Chulainn sighed. “Please tell me you’re holding back somehow. Cause if this is the best you’ve got girlie, you must have one hell of a Noble Phantasm if you qualified as a Saber. Otherwise… well… you’re just not worth my, or my master’s, time. And I don’t like wasting my master’s time.”

Saber growled. Red sparks curdled across her sword. Cu Chulainn sensed _prana_ gathering within her.

All of a sudden, she burst towards him, this time with actual speed. Her blade came around her back for a powerful heavy slash.

Cu Chulainn feigned interest.

He lazily raised his spear to meet the strike that, to her credit, did actually require him to use both hands to block. Still, it was hardly equal to his own strength and he easily powered through the attack, clipping the sheath from her belt and smacking her to his opposite side.

She bounced across the pavement, eventually landing in a crater, a rising cloud of dust obscuring any view of her.

“Pitiful.” Cu snorted. He casually stalked towards the pit. “You know, I really should have known something was up when I could barely sense your _prana_ signature from the ship. To think that such a weakling could be a Saber.”

He dragged his spear across the pavement, crushing the feeble cobblestone as he went. A little ways off, Weiss’ new creation was barely giving the other kiddies time to breathe. The lovely lady herself had apparently summoned the Queen Lancer from before to fend off her cat girl friend, who’d somehow gotten on the same roof.

A smile graced his face. “I guess I’ll just put you out of your misery and then go see if my master needs any—”

His eyes went wide. _Prana_ surged behind him, far more than should have been possible given the sorry state of their enemies.

He whirled around and saw Saber’s scabbard pulsing with radiant light. The azure and gold sheath blazed with an unstoppable white shine. Eventually, he had to cover his eyes as it let off one final glow that encompassed the entire square.

When the light faded, he idly noted the battle had stopped throughout the courtyard. Although, given the five people who had literally just appeared out of thin air, he could understand the impulse, even for the Grimm.

All of the new arrivals surrounded the scabbard (which strangely now had a sword in it) in a large circle. The most notable of the bunch was easily the tan man with the silver hair. He wore a crimson jacket and skirt over black armor. His barring, even after such an obvious upheaval, marked him as a warrior. His _prana_ signature marked him as a Servant.

Beside him was a tall man with graying hair in a messy dress shirt. A massive sword was strapped to his back. He had a hand on a small boy in farmer’s clothing, who panted heavily as he leaned on a green cane. Glowing magic circuits faded across the boy’s body.

The other two, a boy in white and gold armor and a girl in a red cloak, were also of great interest. Not only did Cu Chulainn find himself unable to meet the girl’s silver eyes, but on both of the children’s hands were unmistakable Command Seals.

The Servant in the red jacket caught sight of him. His silver eyes went wide and he pushed the girl in the hood behind him.

“Well, this is unexpected.” the Lancer remarked. He readied Gae Bolg. “Care to join the fight? The Saber just isn’t cutting it on her own.”

The blonde boy’s eyes went wide. “Saber? What did you do to her?”

Cu Chulainn was about to answer when a voice spoke up from behind him.

“Don’t worry, master…”

The Lancer turned around.

The smoke from the impact cleared away in a rush of air. Gone was the small blonde girl. In her place was a knight in rugged gray and red armor, two wicked spikes jutted out from the helmet. Saber raised her sword, crimson lightning crackling all around her, the very air alive with _prana_.

“We were just warming up.”

Once more, she burst towards him in a rush of speed and power. When her blade struck Gae Bolg, a massive shockwave erupted from the legendary weapons’ clash.

Now he understood. Saber’s master hadn’t been nearby, depriving her of the _prana_ she needed to fight at full capacity. Now that he had returned, her power had skyrocketed.

Cu Chulainn smirked.

And with that other Servant there as well, this might be fun after all.

 


	42. The Battle of Kuroyuri

Teleporting sounded so amazing when Ozpin had first brought it up, like a childhood fantasy straight out of a comic book

Less so now that Ruby was struggling to hold in her lunch.

Seriously, wasn’t Jaune supposed to be the one with stomach problems? Or was it just airsickness for him? Did she get teleport sick? Was that a thing?

Oh well, judging by the lightning flying around Mordred and that guy with a spear (did he have a tail?”), they didn’t have time to puke. The others were in trouble.

She glanced around rapidly. Archer was standing between her and the spear guy, his arm protectively holding her back. Jaune was right next to her, observing the battlefield as well, though his eyes were noticeably locked on Mordred. Uncle Qrow was trying to help the exhausted Ozpin stand.

Ren, Nora, and Sun had paused to gawk at them, but didn’t have the time to say anything before they had to get back to dodging… some really scary Grimm that would probably be a guest in her nightmares for the next few weeks. The three of them were doing their best, but whatever that monster was, its armor was too thick to pierce, and its bladed arms spun in a blur like windmills. Well, windmills of death. Her friends needed help.

But where was Blake?

“Well, well, well…”

Ruby’s silver eyes widened into saucers. She whirled around to the source of the voice, praying that she wasn’t imagining it.

She was rewarded with a familiar icy grin.

Weiss was here. Her partner was _here_. This was amazing! They had third quarters of the team back together! Heck, she was already with Blake on that derelict rooftop…

… and a massive Grimm right behind her!

“Weiss! Look out!”

Crescent Rose unfurled.

_CHI-CHUN!_

Silver light tinged her vision and infused itself with her scythe’s blade.

“Archer! Help Saber!” she barked as she rushed past her Servant.

“Master wait!”

She didn’t have time to listen to him. Together, he and Mordred could probably deal with the other Servant (for what else could have done that to the Knight of Treachery), no matter how strong he was. Jaune and Qrow could back up the others in their fight. Five huntsmen should be enough for any Grimm short of that Wyvern from the Fall.

But she needed to save her team. Weiss was in danger, and Blake soon after. She knew she couldn’t save everyone, but she _refused_ to fail her team.

She angled her scythe to the ground, and fired herself into the air, screeching towards the wasp looking Grimm. By itself, Crescent Rose might take a few slashes to penetrate its armor, but with her silver eyes active, it would only take one blow to annihilate it.

She activated her semblance and burst into a cloud of rose petals, a silver star shining from within the storm. When she reformed, she hung several feet above the Grimm. She raised her scythe, and plummeted to carve the wasp creature to bits…

Only to be suddenly pulled away from the beast, a black phantasmal sword flying right past her face. If she hadn’t been tugged away, the blade would have taken off her head.

She fell to the ground, barely righting herself to land on her feet on the roof. She whirled on Blake, who was recalling Gambol Shroud’s ribbon from where she’d wrapped it around the red reaper.

“Thanks, Blake! That was a close one. Where did that sword come from anyway?”

The cat faunus frowned, a broken will behind her amber eyes. “Ruby, it was—”

“ME! It was me, you dolt!” Weiss screeched, her hands madly waving about. “Who else do you know who can summon swords out of thin air?”

“You figured out how to summon? That’s amazing!”

“Ugh!”

Ruby shook her head balefully. Same old Weiss, always getting worked up over nothing. Not like she’d expect any less from her BFF.

Wait! The Grimm! It was still behind her, ready to—

Wait patiently and not attack her completely open back.

…

What?

The layer of enchantment evaporated from Crescent Rose and the silver tint left Ruby’s vision.

It was then that she registered the changes in her partner. Maybe the teleport spell had left her discombobulated not to have noticed already, but Weiss was different. Gone was the fashionable white jacket and combat skirt, replaced by an elegant knee-length black dress. Myrtenaster no longer gleamed a shining silver, instead the thin blade was as dark as the coldest night, with some kind of mud swirling in the ammunition chambers instead of dust. A single black Command Seal rested on the back of her right hand.

But the worst was her eyes. The once icy blue irises now shone a pale, sickly yellow, with black veins branching out into her skull like the cracks of broken concrete.

Weiss’ cries of exasperation shifted into a light chuckle, and soon she was cackling into the sky like some mad clown. “Hahahaha! Now it sinks in! And here I was worried you wouldn’t figure it out until I was tearing your heart from your chest.”

Ruby’s eyes stared at her partner in mortified agony. “Weiss… what happened to you?”

The former heiress recoiled slightly under Ruby’s silver eyes, the veins by her eyes pulsing and squirming like worms. “I see that’s going to be a common question today.” she snarled. “Very well. To summarize: I’m evil now, I serve Salem, _die_.”

“Wait. Wha—”

Ruby didn’t have time to finish her outburst before Weiss charged forward, a line of black glyphs accelerating her speed. She was able to raise Crescent Rose’s shaft to block the thrust, but the strike still sent her stumbling backward.

That wasn’t right. There was too much weight behind that attack. It felt more like deflecting Crocea Mors than Myrtenaster. Whatever had changed the blade’s color had also increased its power, somehow without altering Weiss’ movements at all.

That was bad. Next to Ruby herself, Weiss was probably the most agile on the team. If she now had strength similar to Jaune’s behind her, that meant she was about as dangerous as Pyrrha was.

There was just one difference.

Ruby knew Weiss. She knew how she fought, inside and out. They’d spent hours on end in the Beacon training rooms (mostly at her partner’s insistence), refining their techniques to the fullest and learning to fuse them into their signature team attacks. She knew every thrust, every pirouette, every riposte. There was little the heiress could do to surprise her, and if this was a sparring match, the reaper was confident she could pull out a win.

Except this wasn’t a spar. This was real.

Weiss was trying to kill her.

Ruby could barely comprehend what was happening, let alone formulate a counterattack. Combined with the unprecedented _savagery_ Weiss was displaying and it wasn’t long before she was forced back to the edge of the roof.

Finally able to force her instincts to react, Ruby swung around her scythe and managed to knock aside the final thrust, sparks scrapping up as Myrtenaster scored across Crescent Rose’s shaft.

Ruby thought that would buy her a moment, but once again she was wrong.

Instead of pulling back for another stab, Weiss smirked. She lunged into Ruby’s unprotected form, a black glyph forming on her thrusting palm. Another phantasmal sword appeared out of the circle, aimed straight at Ruby’s head.

In between eye blinks, as the end seemed near, Ruby could not think. Her mind couldn’t stop screaming, begging Weiss to tell her what was wrong.

Fortunately, where her mind failed her, her teammate didn’t. At least, the one that wasn’t trying to kill her.

Blake tackled her, off the roof and out of the way of Weiss’ sword. As they fell through the air, the cat faunus reached around and threw Gambol Shroud, the blade sticking into the underside of the roof as the ribbon connecting it went taut. The huntresses swung through the air like a pendulum, soaring back to the roof.

Weiss nodded to her giant wasp Grimm, and the beast fired its stinger.

The point slashed through the ribbon and Ruby and Blake went tumbling across the ground.

Weiss laughed her head off. “And here I thought cats always landed on their feet.”

Blake hissed, either in pain or annoyance. She and Ruby staggered back to their feet.

Ruby gazed up at her partner with pleading eyes. “Weiss, please! Tell me what’s going on!”

“Dear god, I forgot how annoying your voice was,” Weiss remarked offhandedly. “I. Am. Here. To. Kill. You. I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”

“But why?” Ruby demanded. “Weiss, I don’t understand! We’re friends!”

“Salem did something to her,” Blake explained quickly, raising her sheath sword for battle. “Ruby, I don’t think we can reason with her.”

“Did something to me? She opened my eyes” Weiss roared, her yellow eyes glowing like lanterns. “The Queen showed me the truth! The truth of the world and my so-called _friends_!”

“Weiss, you’re not making any sense!” Ruby protested.

“Of course not to you, you dunce!” Weiss slapped her hand across her face, her body convulsing in mad laughter. “No. No, this is wonderful. This is perfect! We’re all here! All of us! Team RWBY, reunited at last! Well, at as close as we can get until Yang decides to stop being such a sleepyhead. You’d think the bimbo would have walked it off by now. Really, it’s so impolite to keep us waiting.”

“Weiss!” Ruby barked. She was in emotional chaos as it was, the insults to her sister were not making her any more comfortable. “What do you want?”

Weiss sighed. “I don’t know how much clearer I can be, Ruby. I want to see if your blood is really red like roses.”

She snapped her fingers and the wasp Grimm flew above her head, its pincers baying for blood.

Ruby narrowed her eyes as she unfurled Crescent Rose once more. She didn’t know what happened to her friend, but something was clearly affecting her mind. She didn’t want to hurt her, but she didn’t think she had a choice. Whatever had ‘blackened’ her or whatever had twisted her reason, turned her into some cackling comic book villain. They couldn’t talk this out. They had to fight.

But she couldn’t kill her best friend.

How could she defeat her friend to save her friend?

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

How?

_How?_

How was it possible that the universe hated him this much?

First, he gets summoned to some post-apocalyptic future by his alternate timeline niece or daughter or whatever! Next, she turns out to be infuriatingly similar to his old self, and his attempts to nip that in the bud nearly destroy them both. Then, he had to fight Hercules again and nearly die!

But this… this was the last straw. He could handle Hercules. He could handle Mordred. He could handle this Salem. Hell. He would take Kirei and Gilgamesh on at the same time.

But why for the love of everything holy did he have to fight Cu Chulainn again!?

Why was this grail war determined to summon Servants that had killed him before?

And it was Cu Chulainn, the one who slew him before he was even a master. He didn’t know what his new getup was about, but the spear in his hand, despite having far too many spikes on it, was undeniably Gae Bolg. His Reality Marble confirmed it. But he was also stronger than he should have been, enhanced by whatever force had given him his new rune armor. His weapon didn’t appear to have access to his Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm, so that was good. Neither he nor Mordred had the luck to beat the causality loop as Saber had.

Even without that though, Ireland’s Child of Light massively outclassed him, and that was before he’d been altered. Honestly, fighting him like he was now would be like fighting Hercules all over again, only instead of him being incredibly fast and hitting like a tank, now he was _insanely_ fast and hit like a slightly smaller tank. If he was fighting him one on one, he would stand no chance.

Fortunately, this time he had a convenient Saber to run interference.

Mordred rammed into Cu Chulainn again and again, Clarent raining down crimson lightning as it clashed with Gae Bolg. The Radiant and Brilliant Royal Sword ravaged against the Gorging Piercing Spear of Carnage, igniting the sky with an unholy scarlet shine as the cobblestone beneath them evaporated into dust, leaving the two combatants to duel in a large crater.

Archer traced his bow and loaded half a dozen nameless arrows onto the string. He doubted Mordred would be able to defeat Lancer one on one. She was strong and with her _prana_ link with Jaune no longer strained, she could likely stalemate him for a great deal of time. But beat him? He put his Saber’s odds against his normal version at about fifty-fifty. Against this monstrous version, with thick, monstrous armor and churning with strange, _infectious_ feeling _prana_ , he had no delusions that the Knight of Treachery could prevail alone.

Fortunately, she was not alone.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how much help he would be. Lancers, in general, were poor matchups for the Archer class. Their immense speed made them capable of dodging projectiles much more easily than the other classes. Plus, an irritatingly large amount of them, including the Cu Chulainn he had encountered, possessed the Protection from Arrows personal skill, making it almost impossible to hit them with any ranged attack, even Noble Phantasms.

Though, this Lancer didn’t have his Anti-Unit Gae Bolg attack, so maybe his Protection from Arrows was another price he’d paid for his newfound strength.

Archer let his arrows fly, each one zooming into the crater like a cannon shot.

An infuriating smirk flashed across Cu Chulainn’s face. He dashed away, leaving Mordred the only one in the arrows’ path.

Nope. He still had it.

Archer could practically see Mordred’s eyes widen under her helm as she leapt out of the crater, barely dodging the barrage. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust from the finely pulverized floor of the hole.

Mordred came up next to Archer. “What the hell was that? Are you betraying us again, Jester?”

Archer dispersed his bow and conjured Kanshou and Bakuya. With the possible exception of Caladbolg, he didn’t have any ranged attack capable of landing on Lancer, and even that would likely annihilate his allies in the process. And with Mordred’s Noble Phantasm also being an Anti-Army type, that was out of the question as well. They would have to rely on their swordsmanship to win this battle.

Cu Chulainn stalked out of the dust cloud, a jaunty and joyous grin plastered on his face.

Archer was reminded again why he detested the Irishman so much. Dealing with the spearman was probably how other people felt like when dealing with him.

“We are on the same team, Saber.” he curtly informed his ally. “We’ll need to be in order to defeat the Hound of Culann.”

Mordred cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Ireland’s Child of Light.”

“What?”

Archer scrunched his brow in irritation. “The greatest spearman in Irish history. You lived right next to Ireland, how do you not know this?”

“What’s the point of keeping track of Celts? It’s not like any of them are threats.” Mordred shrugged. “Besides, like, all of their legends are about spearmen. Do you expect me to keep track of them all?”

“It would be nice.” Cu Chulainn remarked, an annoyed scowl crossing his face.

Archer sighed and tightened his grip on his swords. “Forget it. He’s basically Irish Hercules. Do you know _him_?”

Mordred was instantly serious, Clarent raised and crackling with power. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

“Because he really shouldn’t have had to.” Cu Chulainn growled. As quickly as his anger came though, it disappeared in a calming sigh. “Seriously, I don’t care too much about the whole recognition thing but come on. I’m sorry for starting before your master could get here, Saber, but that’s just disgraceful.”

“Shut up, you Celtic bastard!”

Lancer rolled his eyes. Then, he locked his gaze on Archer.

“You,” he called with genuine curiosity. “You’ve been here for, what? Five seconds? And already you’ve figured out my true name. That’s quite the impressive feat, Archer. Though, I’d expect no less from someone who avoided using his Noble Phantasm before he’d checked his foe’s defenses.”

“It seemed the practical thing to do.”

“Practical?” Cu Chulainn glanced at Kanshou and Bakuya. “And I assume that an Archer who carries swords is merely practical as well.”

“You seem awfully curious about the weapon choice of a man you’ve just met.” Archer deflected. “One would think a hero would be civil enough to save such questions for round two.”

Cu Chulainn shrugged. “Eh. Most people don’t make it to round two with me. I’ve got to do what I can when I can. Besides, I’m not sure if I qualify as a _hero_ anymore. Not sure if being altered to evil disqualifies me or not.”

“It seems like something that would be a deal breaker.”

“Pity.”

Cu Chulainn raised his spear. “Guess I’ll just have to enjoy fighting you as a warrior.”

Kanshou and Bakuya rose to their ready positions. “It seems you shall.”

“I’m still here, you idiots!” Mordred shouted. “Your fight is with me.”

Cu Chulainn ignored her as Gae Bolg ignited in crimson light. “Before we begin though, since you already know my name, care to tell me your—”

Archer didn’t hear the rest. He and Mordred leapt back as pink beams of _prana_ tore through where they stood before. When he looked up at their point of origin, he saw a familiar figure floating high in the air wearing a dark purple robe. In her hands was a long staff with a large metal ring on the top.

He scowled. It seemed the grail war was just determined to summon Servants he knew, not ones that had killed him. So maybe the universe didn’t completely hate him.

Just mostly.

“What the hell, Caster?” Cu Chulainn roared. “I was still talking!”

“Stop flirting and kill them, you brute!” Caster shot back. “We need to end this quickly.”

Lancer snorted. “Quickly? Hah. Cowardly witch.”

Archer quickly turned to Mordred. “I’ll handle Cu Chulainn. You take Caster, her identity is Medea, the Witch of Betrayal—”

“How do you know that?” Mordred interjected. “And why do you get to kill the Celt? I was here first—”

“I can’t kill him.” Archer cut in. “I’ll hold him off until you’re finished with Caster, which should be doable with your Magic Resistance and Prana Burst, and then we can take him together.”

They needed to deal with Caster as quickly as possible. Cu Chulainn would require both of them as it was, and they couldn’t take the other Servant at the same time. If they ignored the Servant of the Spell, she would unleash her Rain of Light on them while they were occupied with Lancer. Or worse, she’d avoid them entirely and bombard their unprotected masters instead.

The others were strong, but even with Ruby and Jaune’s improvements, none of them were a match for the Princess of Colchis. The only one that might have been was Merlin, and he was wiped out from the teleportation.

Which meant Mordred, with her Prana Burst and Rank B Magic Resistance, was the best bet for a swift execution.

“She can’t be allowed to get past us.” Archer declared. “She needs to die quickly, and you’re the best one for the job.”

Mordred growled, but Archer knew he’d gotten through to her. She’d connected the same dots about their masters as he had. She nodded and dashed off to one of the derelict buildings surrounding the courtyard, sparking to the top and whipping a bolt of crimson lightning at the airborne Caster.

The witch barely managed to dodge the attack. She hissed and fired off Rains of Light at the Saber, who leapt to another rooftop as the building behind her exploded.

“Is that the best you’ve got, witch?!? My mother had better spells than you!” Mordred taunted.

“Insolent little…” Caster growled.

She flew off to try to eviscerate Saber.

Archer turned back to his own problem. His own very big problem.

Cu Chulainn grinned. “You know, I doubt you’re as strong as she was, but for some reason, I’m glad I’m fighting you. It just feels right.”

Archer gulped. He raised his swords, _prana_ ready to surge them into their overedge forms at a moment’s notice. He knew how the Irishman fought and while that might increase his odds, against an opponent of Cu Chulainn’s caliber, pulling new tricks out as he went along would be his only chance of survival.

He had no delusions about being able to win this fight. His experience with his Cu Chulainn and the nature of his fighting style would keep him alive, but they wouldn’t be able to overcome the massive power difference between the two of them. He wasn’t suited to direct confrontations, but he didn’t have to be. This was a matter of holding out until Saber could return to back him up.

He could do that.

Hopefully.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

Jaune was freaking out.

He thought the others had said it was safe to teleport to them? What part of a freaky nightmarish Grimm, a more terrifying than usual Weiss, and a psychotic Servant from some place called Ireland was in any way, shape, or form safe?

Add to that Ruby rushing off to go help Blake against Weiss, and Mordred requesting his telepathic silence, and his expected stomach problems were looking like an increasingly minor issue.

Focus. Focus.

He’s no good to anyone panicking.

Mordred and Archer could handle the Servant. Even with Strike Air, he would only get in the way of that fight. Unless Mordred needed a Command Seal boost, he wouldn’t do any good focusing on that.

Ruby and Blake could handle Weiss. Probably. She had summoned that giant wasp Grimm, but Ruby had unlocked her silver eyes. Based on what she did to the Griffon back at Amity Coliseum, Grimm shouldn’t be an issue. Whether she and Blake could bring themselves to fight Weiss was another question.

He couldn’t help there. He wasn’t exactly high on the ‘liked by Weiss Schnee’ list, despite his past efforts. If anything, his presence would only make things worse.

That left Ren, Nora, and Sun up against…

“What the hell is that thing?” he muttered in terror. He’d seen a lot of Grimm since Beacon, but he couldn’t recall any so absolutely horrifying.

“Nuckelavee, I think,” Qrow growled, staggering over with a swaying Ozpin.

Or Oscar? He’d said that the old man had to take a back seat after stressful magecraft, and he didn’t know how teleportation could qualify as anything other than stressful.

“Nuckelavee…” Jaune muttered. He’d never heard the name before, but that wasn’t important. “How do we kill it?”

Qrow passed Oscar to him and drew his sword. “Probably like any other Grimm, but that armor will be a problem. I’ve seen a few similar variants in the Grimmlands but this is a new one. I’ll keep it busy.”

Jaune’s eyes widened, his body scrambling to balance Oscar’s nearly limp form. “What? By yourself? What do you expect the rest of us to do?”

Qrow clicked a button on his weapon and his sword unfurled into a massive scythe. “Figure out a plan to kill it. I’ll try to beat you to it, but I don’t like the odds.”

The huntsman dashed off into the fray, ducking and dodging the Nuckelavee’s flailing sword arms.

Jaune drew Crocea Mors with the one hand not holding up Oscar. He flicked the sheath into the broadsword extension. He might not have been able to use his shield with one hand, but it would be suicide to be in the middle of the chaos without some sort of defense.

“Hey. Oscar?” he prompted the boy at his side. “How are you doing?”

“Ugh…” the farm boy groaned. “I feel like I’ve got a brain freeze all over my body, but I don’t think anything is broken. I guess that means the spell worked.”

“Great,” Jaune exclaimed. “Any chance we can get some Ozpin backup?”

Oscar shook his head. “That wasn’t a small spell. He’s pushing his recovery to try to help, but I don’t think he’ll be here in time.”

“Magnificent,” Jaune muttered. He glanced at the battle.

Qrow was keeping his word. He danced around the Nuckelavee’s sword arms like a circus acrobat, his movements erratic and unpredictable, yet somehow gliding and graceful. Every opening he got, he slashed in at the beast, his scythe glancing off the Grimm’s armor without doing too much visible damage, but it drew the creature’s attention away from the others.

Said others wisely took the opportunity to retreat. They dashed over to him, their chests heaving for breath and their bodies covered in scrapes and shallow cuts. When they arrived, even Nora had to support herself on her knees.

“Yeah, Jaune.” Sun panted. “How’re you doing?”

“Are you guys okay?” Jaune asked fervently.

Sun held up his hand. “Oh, you know. Fighting town destroying super Grimm, all in a day’s work for huntsmen. Just… just need the world to stop spinning.”

Jaune looked at Oscar. “Can you stand?”

The boy nodded and shifted himself to be supported by his cane.

Jaune immediately rushed over to Ren and Nora. He enveloped the two in a massive hug. Nora returned it eagerly. Ren… just sort of let it happen, his pink eyes vacant and far away.

He didn’t care. This was his team. They were alive. It wasn’t perfect, but as long as they had that, as long as they were together, they could figure out the rest.

“Jaune.” Nora sniffled. “It’s… it’s bigger… stronger than before. It’s too strong. We can’t stop it.”

“We never could,” Ren muttered, his voice hollow and without hope. “We never could…”

Jaune grimaced. “I’m guessing there’s more here than I know.”

Nora nearly choked. “A lot.”

Jaune could hardly take it. Nora wasn’t supposed to be broken and crying. She was meant to be strong and bubbly. Ren wasn’t supposed to empty. He was meant to calm, collected, so full of life and waiting to spread it.

This _thing_ had hurt his team. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t care. They were crumbling, and he had failed to support them.

He wasn’t allowed to fail.

He was the leader of Team JNPR.

They were Team JNPR.

And they were going to win.

He pulled the two back, his face hard and confident. “We’re taking that thing down.”

Ren curled his fists. “Weren’t you listening? We can’t stop it!”

“We’re not going to stop it.” Jaune agreed with a grin. “We’re going to take it down.”

Nora perked up. The tears were still in her eyes, but a disbelieving anticipation brushed across her face. “You mean…”

“Yes. We’re going to break its legs.”

Nora glanced back at the Grimm, its arms viciously trying to swat Qrow like a fly.

She tightened her grip on Magnhild. A furious, bloodthirsty scowl appeared on her face.

“On it.”

 

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Qrow had seen a lot of things in his life. Magic, mystery, family drama.

But the worst of it was always in the Grimmlands. It was where the Fifth Grail War ended, where he’d witnessed two gods clash in the devil’s world, reality itself straining against the raw omnipotent destruction unleashed between Gilgamesh and Lancer.

Afterwards, Ozpin had had him return multiple times. After all, even in their homeland, the Grimm didn’t attack animals. They wouldn’t pay any attention to a lone crow that strayed onto their turf.

There he saw the monstrosities. The mismatch of experimental abominations Salem was concocting, breeding newer and more dangerous races of Grimm. Some that he used to see only there, like the Nuckelavee, had spread out across Remnant since, in smaller numbers than most other species, but far deadlier on their own. He tried to keep Oz informed so that he could come up with ways to take them down before they went worldwide, but he just had no way to know which new demonic chimera would be the Queen’s new passion project.

But this? This mismatch of a Nuckelavee and what appeared to have once been an Arma Gigas? Yeah, this was new.

The beast’s new armor didn’t appear to slow it down, if anything increasing its movement. Its new sword arms would have looked silly if then didn’t sweep about like a propeller or shoot out like a rail gun. While the Grimm’s old claws were powerful, at least somebody could take a hit from them and still walk away. If he was hit by those blades, it was over.

Fortunately, he wasn’t one of the top huntsmen in Vale for nothing.

He bobbed and weaved around the beast’s incessant blades, twirling and leveraging his scythe, Harbinger, to help him maneuver. The swords crashed through the cobblestone ground, sending broken debris cascading everywhere, providing him with some measure of cover. When he could, he’d dash in and strike the Grimm with glancing blows, testing the monster’s armor before it could take off his head.

From those excursions, he knew where to aim.

The horse’s flanks were covered with plate, easily thick enough to deflect everything but a direct strike from Harbinger, which was out of the question since that would likely trap his weapon in the armor for the crucial seconds it would take for the Arma Nuckelavee to slice him to bits. The legs were similarly protected, though only at the front. The back of the legs were unarmored, but it would take someone much smaller than Qrow to get under the horse for a shot, and anyone could tell you that getting under a moving horse’s hoofs was an incredibly stupid idea.

The rider was a fortress. Except for the small gap between the body and the screaming helm, that section had the thickest armor of the bunch. It would take a shot from one of Jimmy’s Paladins to punch through it, and even that was a maybe. The blade arms were less protected, most of the armor packed around where the ‘hands’ of the sword arms would be. The flexible portion of the limbs, the part that let the blade stab and sweep at will, was more vulnerable, but its rapid speed made it a difficult target. Unless, it could be pinned long enough for an attack, going after it was suicide.

That seemed to be a theme with the monster. As long as it kept moving, no one could get a clean shot at it. And it wasn’t exactly going to stay still on its own. Not unless it got an extraordinary case of bad luck.

The Arma Nuckelavee pulled back its right arm and swung it down at Qrow. The huntsman pivoted on his scythe and twirled out of the way, leaving the blade arm to plunge into the ground.

The Nuckelavee tugged at its appendage, but it refused to escape the crevice it had implanted itself in.

Qrow smirked. As much of a hassle as it was, sometimes he really loved his semblance.

He dashed forward as the Grimm flailed and struggled to move. He leapt off the horse’s vulnerable right side and pulled back his scythe to cleave its head from its shoulders.

As expected, the Grimm didn’t take too kindly to that, and with all the negativity he gave off the thing could have seen him coming a mile away. It twisted the rider’s body, letting the left arm come around and take a stab at him.

_‘I’m your bad luck charm.’_

The words ran through his head, and Ozpin’s gift responded. The magic within his body galvanized and instantly he had taken the form of his namesake. And as his experience taught him, it was much harder to hit a bird than a person.

The Arma Nuckelavee’s blade arm soared over him. Within a moment, he’d transformed back to his human form, Harbinger snaking out to the slight gap between the rider’s armor and helm.

Unfortunately, being human meant he was back on the monster’s senses. Without hesitation, the Grimm brought down its left arm and smacked him down like a fly. His scythe scrapped harmlessly against the beast’s armor.

Of course, he wasn’t going to go down without giving as good as he got. With a slight adjustment, Harbinger came down on the flesh of the very same limb that had sent him falling.

The Nuckelavee howled in agony as its severed left arm tumbled to the ground and disintegrated into dust. It bucked and panicked, even managing to rip its right sword out of the ground, scattering dust everywhere.

Qrow bounced across the pavement, eventually managing to right himself into a crouch. The breath was gone from his lungs, and he could feel his aura one step away from being broken.

 _‘All that with one hit’_ he mused. _‘Aren’t you a nasty little abomination.’_

The Arma Nuckelavee charged out of the dust cloud, howling with wild abandon. The monster whipped around its sole remaining sword arm and sent it streaking towards Qrow.

He leapt to the side of the incoming thrust, but it seemed the monster learned. It didn’t stop charging after it launched its attack, managing to readjust itself and ram right for him.

Qrow transformed just before the horse could smash into him, his bird form gliding the rush of air around the Grimm. When he was behind the rider, he turned human and swung for a decapitation once more.

But once again, being human allowed the Arma Nuckelavee to sense him. With unprecedented speed for a monster of its size, the beast hauled back its sword arm and whipped around to strike at Qrow. He brought Harbinger back to block as fast as he could, but the strength behind the slash still sent him flying.

His aura shattered when he hit the ground, his back screaming with agony against the cobblestone. He tried to get up, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the pain made him sluggish. He was one of the best, and he had little doubt he could have easily beaten a regular Nuckelavee, but this thing…

It wasn’t just the armor. It was stronger and faster than the ones he’d encountered before. He’d need someone backing him to take it down. He could only hope taking off its arm would make it beatable for Arc and the others.

As it was, he was out of steam.

And the Grimm was raising its hoofs to smash him into the pavement.

 _‘So, this is how I go? Turned into a pancake? At least Tai’s not here to see this. He’d never let me live it down’_ Qrow thought melancholically. A resigned smile came to his face as he thought of Ruby and Yang. _‘Sorry kiddos. Looks like I’m off to see your mom.’_

The monster’s feet came down.

Qrow felt something lift him out of the way. His eyes widened as something exploded behind him in a flash of light.

He felt himself get picked up again. He trudged around and found himself in the arms of one of the Sun kid’s light clones. Another one must have taken the curbstomp for him.

But where was the kid himself?

“Aahhh!” Sun screamed as he raced into the fray, his gun chucks flashing wildly. He laid down a rain of fire on the Arma Nuckelavee. The barrage didn’t hurt the beast, its armor was too thick for that, but it certainly drew its attention away from the target it had missed. “Come on, you stupid horse looking faunus wannabe! Try a real animal man on for size!”

That had to be among the most ridiculous insults Qrow had ever heard, but even if the Grimm didn’t understand the words, it still roared at the faunus boy. The ungodly screech echoed out despite its faceless helm.

Sun grinned. He backed away from the monster.

The Arma Nuckelavee threw its blade arm straight at the boy, the sword hurtling straight for his head.

The monkey boy flipped backwards, letting the attack fly right by him.

Arc came in right after that. He rushed in with Crocea Mors held high and slashed the heavy broadsword down, slashing right through the unprotected flesh of the Grimm’s arm.

The Nuckelavee howled, it’s front legs flailing up as it bucked in pain.

“Nora! Oscar! Go!” Jaune shouted. Both he and Sun rushed towards the Grimm’s head.

Nora and Oscar charged in on opposite sides of the monster, hammer and cane each pulled back for a heavy swing.

Qrow didn’t know what Arc was thinking, but he did notice one thing about the two he’d sent out on the flanks.

They were both short enough to get under the horse.

 

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_‘Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together, keep it together…’_

Oscar kept the chant going through his head as he charged the Arma Nuckelavee’s left side.

Never, in a million years, would he ever have imagined he would be charging towards a giant Grimm. He’d dealt with some decently sized ones during his trek from Haven to the others, but they had all looked at least somewhat like familiar animals. This thing was a monstrosity, a warped abomination of nature. With Ozpin unable to help after the teleportation, it was all he could do to keep from breaking down in panic.

But Jaune’s plan was a solid one. Sun got the injured Qrow out of harm’s way and drew the Grimm’s attention. Then, Jaune took out the arms (or arm, since Qrow had been able to slice one off himself), and the two of them kept the monster’s focus front while he and Nora ran under the horse and smashed the unprotected back of its legs, forcing it to ground. Finally, Ren would use his semblance to sneak up on the paralyzed beast and deliver the final blow.

A solid plan. Just not one that Oscar was sure of his own part in.

His body was still exhausted from the teleport, sluggish, with a dull ache pounding throughout his muscles. It took a mountain of effort just to move, but the adrenaline spike from the situation let him ignore it, at least for the time being.

Nora had offered to take out both legs herself, but that would just leave her with less time to get away from the monster’s counterattack. He couldn’t leave her vulnerable if he could help. And since he was the only other person small enough to get under the horse, that meant there was no one else.

The Nuckelavee stumbled as it howled from losing its arms. It locked onto Jaune and Sun and raised its front hoofs to charge.

The blondes arrived first however. Jaune raised his sword in two hands, one on the hilt and one on the flat of the blade, and braced himself under the Grimm, preventing it from moving forward. He sweat like a manic and would have crumbled in an instant if Sun hadn’t clapped his hands and summoned three more light clones to help match the beast’s strength. The monkey faunus himself transformed his gun chucks into a staff and joined in right after.

The Nuckelavee howled, its demonic fury seeping through the sky. The stump of its left arm bubbled with black mud, the empty open space of its helm glowing a ghastly red.

Nora pushed on and pulled back her hammer to smash the unarmored back of the horse’s kneecap. Oscar took a breath and did the same with his cane on the other side. The wooden rod couldn’t deliver as much force as the giant hammer, but with a little reinforcement, it could do enough.

They were close. Just a few more steps and they’d be in range. Ren was running up from behind, his body gray from his semblance’s side effects. Stormflower was at the ready and thirsty for the Grimm’s throat.

Jaune and Sun hissed, their arms desperately holding back the Arma Nuckelavee’s strength. One of the light clones cracked under the pressure and exploded in a flash of light.

Oscar pulled back the cane and…

The Nuckelavee whirled on him, the rider’s helm slamming right in front of his face. The red glow within the helmet burned, and a ghastly head, with twisted horns and sunken eyes erupted from the empty space. The second head let out a deafening screech.

_“OZPIN!!!!!”_

The chant shattered, and Oscar’s mind froze. His legs turned to jelly and he collapsed to the ground, the cane stumbling to his side. He didn’t understand… he didn’t comprehend…

He was afraid.

He was so afraid.

“Oscar, get up!” Jaune shouted, the sound tickling the back of his mind. “Oscar, you have to get up!”

“I’ve got it!” Nora yelled.

Where he had faltered, she charged through. She slipped under the horse’s form and slammed her hammer into the back of its right leg.

The Grimm’s heads screeched towards the sky, its unholy voice rending Oscar’s ears. Jaune and Sun finally gave out, and tumbled to the ground, the accompanying light clones vanishing in a shower of sparks. Something poked out of the bubbling mud on the rider’s left stump.

A normal horse would have collapsed when one of its legs was broken. The Arma Nuckelavee must have gained more from its humanoid half than just armor, because it balanced quite efficiently on the remaining three, its heads baying for vengeance.

That was why Oscar was needed. They had to hit both legs, or they couldn’t be sure it would fall. And if it didn’t fall, it wouldn’t be still, and that could ruin Ren’s shot.

But Oscar just couldn’t move. His entire body shook with irrepressible terror.

Fortunately, Nora wasn’t exactly lacking as an improviser. Swiftly navigating under the Arma Nuckelavee’s frantic hoofs, she twirled out the left side and, like an avenging angel, obliterated the second leg as easily as she had the first.

The Grimm collapsed forward, the horse’s head planting into the cobblestone. The heads of the rider howled in agony and fury. Its eyes whirled and locked onto Nora.

The mud from the left side bubbled over and a new arm erupted from the stump. This one was bulkier, completely armored, save for the hand. The hand was a stretched warped thing, tipped with jagged, razor-sharp claws.

It swept towards Nora, the noble huntress too busy dealing with the recoil of her attacks to notice.

Oscar could see it. But he couldn’t move. He didn’t know if his mind wasn’t sending the right signals or if his body just wouldn’t respond, but it felt like every joint and muscle was locked in place.

But he had to move. He was the only one there. He was the only one who could help.

He had to help!

He flooded his circuits with _prana_ , focusing the energy on his lower half. The surge broke his legs out of whatever lock his fear had trapped them in, and reinforced them until they might as well have been pistons on an Atlesian Paladin.

“Look out!” he screeched. He erupted into action and jumped into Nora, tackling her out of the way just as the Grimm arm would have crushed her head like a grape.

At that moment, Ren leapt over the paralyzed Arma Nuckelavee and slashed Stormflower through the thin weak spot between the heads and the rider. With its throat slit, the Grimm’s screech quickly turned to a rancid cough.

Oscar didn’t catch any more, as he and Nora splattered against the ground, tumbling across the cobblestone until they finally used up all their momentum.

Nora rose, panting hard but with a smile on her face. “Ren did it! We did it! It’s dead! Hahaha!”

She turned towards him with a pleased smirk. “Don’t worry about freezing up, little cute boy Ozpin. It happens to a lot of people their first time. Thanks for the save by the way.”

Oscar screamed.

The pain… the pain…

Ozpin had warned him. All those months in the wilderness, he had warned him. His body wasn’t used to the power he’d been granted. Magic was dangerous, and reinforcement, in particular, had the potential to go very wrong.

Still, he’d vastly overdosed his _prana_ and now all he had to show for it was the bloody, gnarled mess of his legs.

But as he blacked out, Nora’s expression shifting to one of supreme concern, he couldn’t help but feel he made the right choice. He’d been the one to freeze. He’d been the reason she’d had to go for both legs. She wouldn’t have been in danger if he had just done his job.

He’d paid the price for his failure, but that was fine, as long as no one else did.

As long as he was able to help.

 

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Mordred roared as she leapt across yet another rooftop. She’d led Caster on quite the merry chase through the broken ruins of Kuroyuri, trading lightning and _prana_ lasers as they went. She lost track of how many decrepit buildings had crumbled under her charge or been obliterated in the crossfire.

Normally, she would have rammed into caster full speed and seen where that got her, but Archer’s warnings and the witch’s identity gave Mordred pause. She had to be careful with this opponent. Her mother hadn’t educated her much, but Medea had come up during her early attempts to teach her magic to aid in her infiltration of Camelot. Apparently, she was one of the few mages the great Morgana le Fay actually admired. Something about feeling a kinship with the Witch of Betrayal, or something.

Another blast of pink _prana_ blazed over Mordred’s shoulder and incinerated the remnants of an outhouse. She scowled.

Dark robes, easily provoked, admittedly impressive magecraft… Wow, she really was a lot like her mother.

Still, even if she couldn’t charge in, she needed to end this quickly. Archer couldn’t hold off the Celt for long and if that barbarian got past him, he’d go straight for her master. As much as his arrival had evened the playing field, Jaune’s presence now placed them at a horrible disadvantage.

She’d ran to get Caster far enough away that the false Lancer, or Lancer Alter, or whatever he wanted to call himself, couldn’t intervene on her behalf. Now without his support, she could tear the Servant of the Spell apart.

Thunder crashed as a storm raged outside the town. A bullhead flew in from the furious tempest.

Mordred smirked under her helmet. Didn’t thunder usually come after the lightning? The universe had declared her victory already won.

She finished one final leap and landed on another desolate roof. She whipped around as crimson electricity ripped across Clarent.

“ **Red Thunder!** ”

A scarlet tempest erupted out of Mordred and screamed through the sky, racing towards the off-guard Caster.

The witch twirled her staff and merged her various pink sigils into one. The now massive mystical glyph hummed with power and unleashed an enormous variant of her previous _prana_ beams. The blast collided with Red Thunder and stalemated the lightning, exploding in a cloud of black smoke. The weathered stone of Mordred’s rooftop perch buckled under the force of the backlash.

Mordred herself could only grin. “I didn’t come for a light show, you old hag! Are you going to get serious anytime soon, or should I grab some popcorn and pull up a chair--”

Her mouth suddenly froze. No, her whole body froze. A dome of crackling purple energy had encased her and space itself seemed to feel a thousand times heavier. As if she was shouldering the weight of the entire world.

Caster emerged from the smoke, chuckling as she floated in midair. “Really, Saber? Such coarse language is beneath heroes such as we. Oh well. Maybe you’ll mind your tongue in the next life.”

Another pink sigil materialized in the air beside her and glowed with power.

No. No, she was not going to die like this!

Why wasn’t her Magic Resistance doing anything? Archer had specifically mentioned that when he’d said she should be the one who faced the witch. Why would he do that if he knew she had Rank A spells? Was he hoping she’d fail? No, then his master would die too. But hadn’t he already tried to kill her once?

No. Jaune had said that matter was settled, and the Servant of the Bow had had more than enough chances to kill them both if that was a deception. What was it then? Why had he said her skills would be enough if—oh.

Her Magic Resistance wasn’t the only thing he mentioned.

That conniving bastard.

Even as Caster’s spell froze space itself, her power surged. Magical energy raged through her body like an ethereal hellfire. At last, the time came, and even if she couldn’t speak the words, her Prana Burst ignited the air.

The effect was instantaneous. The purple dome shattered into a thousand shards. Caster recoiled in the air from the mental backlash the destruction must have caused.

Mordred took advantage of the confusion and thrust another bolt of crimson lightning towards the witch. The hag threw up some glowing defense, but she still staggered as smoke sizzled up from her cloak.

This was her opening. It was time to finish it.

She raised her sword high above her head. Her helmet disassembled into separate pieces and retracted into her armor.

“Hey, witch!” Mordred called, her prideful grin open for all to see. “Advice for your next life: there’s no cover in the sky!”

Or collateral.

Caster’s head tilted in obvious confusion, but Mordred was no longer paying attention. The witch was already dead, she just didn’t know it.

Instead, the Knight of Treachery remembered.

She remembered the joy of discovering her parentage, the absolute jubilation of learning her noble lineage.

She remembered the sting of rejection, the slap of being told she was still nothing. Nothing worth acknowledging.

She remembered the rage, the cold fury that had dominated her mind as she revealed Lancelot’s treachery. The alchemic wrath that stalked her every thought and emotion until it finally boiled over into ferocious rebellion.

She remembered the face of her beautiful father.

She remembered the hate.

And the hate made her mighty.

A bloody volcano of outrage and ire ignited across her sword. A pillar of crimson hatred erupted into the sky, splitting the clouds themselves with her ancient, cosmic fury.

The fury of a child denied by their father.

Her Noble Phantasm.

“ **Clarent Blood Arth--** ”

She didn’t get to finish pronouncing the name. The bullhead she’d seen before fired a set of missiles, each rocket covered in glowing violet runes. The two projectiles couldn’t reach Mordred thanks to the surrounding backlash of her Noble Phantasm, but they could sneak under that and obliterated the building she stood upon.

The roof crumbled away and, with her footing lost, Mordred could only release her ultimate attack haphazardly. Fortunately, even if the attack was hardly accurate, an Anti-Army blast didn’t really need to be. It didn’t score a direct hit on Caster, but the glancing strike it did land sent the witch careening across the sky, screaming all the way. Hell, if the bullhead that had interfered hadn’t plucked her inside, she probably would have plummeted to the ground.

Exactly as Mordred was.

The Knight of Treachery roared in indignation as she fell with the rumble of the roof, smashing into the ruined ground below. Most normal humans would have been killed but for a Servant, it was hardly a scratch. She was on her feet again in moments, her eyes glowing with livid fury.

How… How… How dare someone interrupt her Noble Phantasm! It was more of an honor than any foe deserved to witness the full power of the weapon that would slay her father, the crystallization of her rebellion.

The rebellion that she started for…

No! She didn’t have time for that!

Despite the grievous insult she’d been dealt, Caster was likely still out of the fight. Her class wasn’t exactly known for its endurance.

That left Lancer Alter to deal with. Jaune hadn’t panicked and used a Command Seal to summon her back, so she had to assume Archer had been able to successfully hold out. Good for him.

Still, she’d used up more _prana_ than she’d expected against Caster. She didn’t know if—

Mordred’s eyes went wide.

…

What?

What was that?

The energy she felt… she wasn’t sure if it could even be called _prana_. More bloodlust incarnate.

And it was charging back in the courtyard.

Mordred bolted in a hail of red sparks. She had to protect the others.

 

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Weiss cackled with delight as Ruby and Blake scrambled to dodge her Arma swords and her Queen Lancer’s merciless stinger. The reaper and the kitten could barely keep up with her ever-increasing bombardment, another black glyph materializing every minute. Sometimes, she’d catch her former leader’s eyes sparking with silver, but a momentary (and admittedly, painful) meeting of their gazes later and the poor girl would be frozen like a deer in the headlights. The dolt could barely understand they weren’t ‘besties’ anymore, let alone concentrate enough to use her powers.

And yet, for all her proclamations of friendship, she left Weiss to rot.

The hypocrisy made the former heiress’ blood boil.

Another glyph appeared and aimed right for the paralyzed huntress.

_NO! She couldn’t have done anything!_

Weiss held her head at the sudden migraine, the newest glyph evaporating into nothingness.

**SHE SHOULD HAVE COME! She feigns devotion, but she would forsake even our memory if it meant she could carry on without burdens!**

_No…_

_Yes… False friend… like false family… only we are true._

_The liars will burn!_

Weiss righted herself and growled. Three more glyphs appeared beside her and unleashed a barrage of blades upon Ruby.

The red hooded huntress deflected two of the phantasmal swords, but the third snuck under her guard and slammed into her left thigh. Her aura managed to keep her from any serious harm, but the force of the strike still sent her stumbling to the ground.

Weiss smirked. A snap of her fingers later and another volley streaked towards her now defenseless partner. A just sentence for a liar and a traitor.

Irritatingly, there was more than one present.

Blake rushed into the path of the barrage and slashed the ghostly blades out of the air. Her sheathe gleamed as the shards of the broken swords rebounded off her weapons cool black metal.

The Queen Lancer shrieked and fired her stinger straight at the cat faunus. It smashed the cobblestone into dust when it struck, Blake’s form shimmering into mist. Another cursed shadow clone.

Weiss’ glare widened as she watched the real Blake soar into the air.

Her hand clenched into a tight fist, her fingernails drawing dark red blood from her palms. She would not be made a fool of.

_Grant us the power._

**The power is ours.**

**_The power of the Queen._ **

**_The power of All the World’s Evils._ **

Her aura flared, augmented by the same dark _prana_ that amplified the Alters. The same black veins she knew crisscrossed her face spread down the length of her arms. She felt pain wrack her head, with even a tear she heavily suspected to be blood falling from her scarred eye.

She didn’t care. Now more than ever, she could feel the power. The power she had sought for so long without even knowing it. The power she deserved.

The power of the Queen.

She gripped her off hand over her dominant wrist and thrust out Myrtenaster.

An unintelligible _screech_ echoed from her mouth.

All around the flying Blake, pitch black glyphs sprouted into being. Front, back, right, left, above, below, thirty-six hellish sigils ignited around the huntress, trapping her in the will of her better.

Blake’s eyes widened as she floated, frozen in midair. She whined pitifully as she strained to move, to twitch. But the tight grip of the seals kept her from moving a muscle.

Weiss smirked, even as the bloody tear streaked down her face. “Gravity glyphs. I’m sure you remember them. With the correct balance of power, I can cancel gravity’s natural grip on you, leaving you paralyzed and powerless. And if I increase the force…

She tightened her grip on her sword. The glyphs flared with power.

“Aaaaa!” Blake screamed. Her sheathe tumbled from her now limp grip. Her limbs began to twist inward, her lower arms pinned to her sides as her elbows and knees began to bend backwards.

“Blake!” Ruby called fretfully, helplessly reaching out to her friend. She grabbed her scythe and shot herself into the air, aiming for the black sphere.

She’d barely gotten halfway when she had to dodge the Queen Lancer’s mad rush through the air. She burst into a stream of rose petals and zoomed around the massive wasp-like creature but, as soon as she reformed back into herself, the beast fired its stinger and lassoed the line around the red-hooded huntress. She whipped the girl around like a bird on a string and smashed her into the ground.

Weiss chuckled as Ruby rose from the ashes. “So close. But like everything you do, you pathetic dolt, just not enough.”

Blake howled in agony. Purple energy crackled across her body and her aura shattered. With her last protection gone, blood began to trickle out from every little cut and scratch the huntress had ever received.

Ruby turned on Weiss. Her eyes blazed with silver energy. “Let. Her. Go.”

Weiss could feel her power squirm ever so much under that menacing stare. It didn’t matter. She would not be cowed, especially by such an inferior _child_! She grit her teeth and glared at her foe.

“Or what? You’ll obliterate me? Just like Mrs. Arc?” Weiss inquired cuttingly. “How childish. You know you’re not smart enough to win, so you’ll just cut your losses and annihilate whatever you don’t want to work to save. And you have the gall to call yourself _my_ leader? Pathetic.”

Ruby’s eyes faded back to normal, the once tempestuous orbs now filled with uncertainty and fear. She whirled back and forth between the screaming Blake and Weiss’ calm, cold glee.

Tears flooded her eyes. “Weiss… please don’t do this.”

Weiss tilted her head to the side and put a finger to her chin, as if in thought. “Hmmm… no.”

The glyphs flared once more. Blake screamed, her forearms both snapping with a sickening _crack_.

It was sweeter music than Weiss could have sung herself.

Ruby slammed Crescent Rose into the ground, the muzzle of the sniper rifle aimed straight at Weiss. She pulled a large, silver bullet from a bandolier strung around her shoulder and loaded it into her gun.

“Weiss!” she shrieked. “Please don’t make me do this!”

“Do you think I should see if I can make her head pop like a grape?” Weiss wondered. “The blood would at least bring a splash of color to this dreary town.”

“Weiss!” Ruby roared, her eyes red as she wept. “Please!”

Weiss frowned. “Who do you think you’re dealing with? I am not some common grunt to be intimidated—”

**No. Danger.**

Weiss blinked in shock. “What?”

**Origin. The Origin of Emiya.**

Weiss cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell is an Emiya?”

Ruby fired.

The mud within Weiss, the will of the Queen, reacted for her. The link between her power and her glyphs snapped, the sigils disappearing from the sky. Her body moved to dodge as Blake limply plummeted to the ground.

Still, she couldn’t move fast enough to dodge fully. The bullet clipped her side…

And did nothing.

Huh.

All that worry for a shot that barely glanced off her aura. Strange, but it was heartwarming to know that the Queen cared for her so much she wouldn’t risk her against… whatever that bullet was supposed to be.

Apparently, Ruby thought there should have been more too. As much as tears streaked down her face, her eyebrows were raised in confusion. She dropped Crescent Rose and fell to her hands and knees, heaving and panting.

Of course, her incapacitation meant she couldn’t help the falling Blake. The auraless, barely conscious, falling Blake.

She’d crack her skull against the hard ground. Just like Pyrrha.

Weiss grinned at the irony.

Unfortunately, a blonde blur of light connected with Blake before the ground did. Sun flipped through the air and snatched the huntress up in his arms. He landed well and worriedly looked her over in his arms.

The cat faunus had the nerve to stay conscious and smile at him. Her ridiculous monkey sighed in relief.

It made Weiss’ blood boil.

She thrust her sword towards the pair and the Queen Lancer’s stinger followed soon after.

But then that was intercepted was intercepted by Nora of all people, who smacked the pincer out of the sky and smashed it into the ground with that brutish hammer. The wasp Grimm recoiled in pain and withdrew its weapon. It hovered right above Weiss, awaiting orders.

Soon after, Jaune and Ren arrived as well, moving to stand side by side with Ruby. All six huntsmen were beaten, bruised, and battered. But, save Ruby, they all glared up at her defiantly.

“Give up, Weiss,” Jaune demanded. “You’re outnumbered.”

Weiss pouted. “What? No ‘snow angel’? Shame, I was actually looking forward to that.”

So, she could mock him with it of course, but still, it was a missed opportunity.

Oh well.

“It seems you’ve actually managed to become something approaching a huntsman, Arc.” Weiss patronized, even as she glanced over at the other side of the courtyard, watching Qrow tend to an unconscious boy she’d never seen before. “Defeating my Arma Nuckelavee with so little damage is quite impressive. I’m sure your mother would be proud your deception has finally borne some fruit.”

Jaune smoldered at her words, but his glare didn’t waver. Huh, not bad.

“I’m not going to say it again, Weiss. Give up. Please, we can help you.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Arc… Jaune, why would I give up? I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been, while you cretins are where you belong.”

_Betrayers. Falsehoods. LIARS!_

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” she continued. “You haven’t been able to put a scratch on me yet. While it looks like the pack of you can barely stand. I could face all six of you alone and still beat you all to death. Of course…”

The building to the side of Weiss exploded in a shower of splinters and ash. The Servant in the red jacket tumbled out, bouncing across the courtyard like a skipping stone across a pond. He rolled to a stop just in front of Ruby and the others, breathing hard and struggling on one knee.

Lightning flashed in the storming sky and a sinister shadow stalked through the smoke.

Weiss grinned. “That’s someone else’s job.”

Lancer Alter emerged from the dust cloud, Gae Bolg swinging merrily before him.

“Not bad, bowman,” he called to the apparent Archer. “I don’t know how you’re keeping that defense up, especially with all those holes in it, but you seem to know where I’m aiming before I do. You’re a credit to your class.”

“Oh.” Weiss cheered. “Does that mean he’s worthy to face _it_?”

Lancer Alter raised an eyebrow, as if just remembering she was there. In the blink of an eye, he’d joined her on the roof.

“What happened to not wanting someone to steal your kill, my lady?” he inquired. “I can’t exactly exclude the kiddies from the blast.”

Weiss shrugged. “I’d prefer to crush them with my own hands, but they’ve proven themselves as crafty as I remembered. We can’t have them slipping through our fingers. That would be an affront to the Queen.”

Cu Chulainn grinned. “Well, we can’t have that, can we.”

He turned back towards the party of huntsman, the Archer slowly rising to face him. He shook his head regretfully. “Thank you for the battle, Archer. I’ve enjoyed our time together. Sadly, my lady gets as my lady wishes. You understand. **Gorging Piercing Spear of Carnage.** ”

Gae Bolg unleashed a brilliant demonic glow, terrifying and unmatched in beauty. The spikes all around the shaft enlarged themselves, the spines reaching out like the sea monster the spear was made from trying to regrow its lost flesh. And it hungered to reap the fuel for such healing. In flesh and carnage. Endless carnage. Without beginning or end.

Cu Chulainn leapt into the sky, his lance emitting a miasma of pure, unfiltered bloodlust.

Weiss licked her lips in anticipation of the wrath to come.

“Here it is!” Cu Chulainn roared. “ **Gae Bolg!** ”

 

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Archer was used to tight spots.

Hell, his entire life had practically been one tight spot after another, throwing himself into one after another so that he could help people get out of their own. For the most part, he’d been able to get it done.

But other times, his dreams had just been too big. Sometimes, he just wasn’t up to the task.

He’d barely scraped by against Lancer Alter. He knew where the spearman would aim thanks to the holes he intentionally left in his defenses, but even with that advantage, he simply could not bridge the astronomical gap in their abilities. Half the time, Cu Chulainn was moving faster than he could even see and hitting just as hard as Hercules. He’d been smacked through a dozen houses by the time he returned the courtyard, battered and kneeling in front of Ruby and the others.

From the cursory glance he gave the group, things could have been worse. Qrow was watching over Oscar, who was laid out on the ground with both legs broken. Fighting right after performing the teleportation was not a good idea, but they likely didn’t have much of a choice.

Sun held a barely conscious, and heavily wounded Blake in his arms. Jaune, Ren, and Nora were battered, but standing tall.

Ruby… was compromised. One moment she stared defiantly at Lancer Alter’s master, the next she gazed worriedly at Blake, and then, worst of all, she looked at her own hands, horror written over her silver eyes.

Archer growled. He couldn’t deal with that now. Cu Chulainn had joined his master on the roof with the Grimm, and he could tell what was coming from the course of their conversation.

Normally, he would take out the master before his enemy could use their Noble Phantasm. But whenever he tried to throw a blade towards the white-haired girl, he found his arms just wouldn’t move. He recognized the impediment, but was confused as to why a Command Seal was blocking him when the only one Ruby had given him was simply to…

…Not harm her friends.

What had she shouted at the beginning of the battle? Weiss?

He was pretty sure that name had come up in their conversations somewhere.

Great. So, he couldn’t harm the master, and Lancer Alter was already in the air.

He knew Gae Bolg well. When thrown, it was an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, comparable to the original Gungnir. Normally, he possessed a defense powerful enough to defend against a spear of such power, though he had never tested it against the crimson lance itself.

The problem was, everything about this version of Cu Chulainn was amplified. He was stronger, tougher, and, against all appearances, faster than the warrior he had faced in his own life. By that logic, and his Reality Marble’s confirmation, this attack would be far more powerful than what his shield could stop. And if the Anti-Army blast got past him, everyone on their side would be annihilated.

That left one option.

_“Master?”_

_‘I shot her. I shot her with an Origin Round. Why did I do that? What kind of person shoots their friend with something like that…’_

_“Master! We don’t have time for this. Lancer Alter’s attack is more powerful than any defense in my arsenal. If we are to survive, I need your help.”_

_‘… How can I…?’_

_“Just do as I say…”_

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“ **Gae Bolg!** ”

Ruby braced herself as the blood red spear came down like a falling star, its ravenous bloodlust permeating the very air, tainting the sky a sickening crimson.

She didn’t know what to believe. Weiss had tortured Blake, nearly to death. The conflict she’d felt had kept her from focusing enough to use her silver eyes, and she couldn’t get to Blake… she hadn’t been able to think of anything else. She’d loaded an Origin Round and fired.

Even if the bullet hadn’t worked for some reason, she’d still tried to use a weapon that Uncle Qrow had warned her against. On her best friend!

What was wrong with her?

If the others hadn’t shown up, she wasn’t sure what would have happened.

But now they were in danger. Lancer Alter’s Noble Phantasm would kill them all if it hit. Her friends would die.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Fortunately, Archer had a plan. He braced his right arm and held it towards the sky.

Ruby raised her right arm, the sigils on the back of her hand glowing a brilliant red.

“Archer! By my Command Seal…

“ **Rho Aias!** ”

Their shared words harmonized together into a magnificent tune, their wills uniting into one melodious symphony. Seven familiar layers of pink energy blossomed into the air, the conceptual will of endless defense.

The Seven Rings that Cover the Fiery Heavens.

It seemed as if those same heavens fell, as Gae Bolg came crashing down like a streaking crimson comet. The already ruined courtyard was torn to shreds, massive plots of cobblestone ripped up and sent flying by the backslash of the impact. Ruby and her friends stumbled back under the immense wind pressure.

Through it all, Archer stood stalwart. Even as his right arm erupted in spurts of blood, the ground wavered under his immovable stance, and the petals of his shield shattered one after the other, the Heroic Spirit did not break.

Even as his shield failed, the falling sky could not sunder the Counter Guardian.

Ruby could only stare in awe. If she had any lingering doubts about Archer’s loyalty, they evaporated in that moment.

At last, the spear crashed into the final layer of the Aias, sparks flying as the spiked lance drilled into the last shield. Ruby felt more of her aura leave her body, summoned by Archer as fuel for his final stand.

The Servant of the Bow roared, his defiant, unyielding will unbowed and unbroken. Indomitable in the face of annihilation.

His shield could not say the same.

Rho Aias’ last layer exploded in a hail of radiant shards, unable to handle the strain of Gae Bolg’s unquenchable bloodlust.

But the spear went no further.

Perhaps, it had spent its power breaking through the ultimate defense against its kind, perhaps it simply did not care for battle without resistance. Whatever the case, the spiked spear did not strike them, instead zipping through the air and returning to Lancer Alter’s hand.

The black spearman’s eyes widened in surprise. Then, he grinned widely and hungrily.

Archer sank to his knees, his right arm bent and broken. Blood trailed down his face and palm, his body heaving despite not requiring air.

Ruby struggled to her feet and stumbled towards her Servant.

“Archer?” she croaked, her throat unexpectedly dry and spent. “Archer, are you okay?”

Even with his head bowed, she could see him crack a wry smile. “Apologies, master. I didn’t think I’d have to draw on so much of your power for that. And it didn’t even work. To think, there’s a spear strong enough to penetrate the Aias.”

Ruby snorted, the absurdity of his words prompting the umpteenth round of tears that day. “We’re alive, aren’t we? I’d say you saved us.”

“It would have been useless without the boost from your Command Seal.” Archer retorted. “You did just as much saving as I.”

Ruby shook her head balefully, an unbelieving laugh slipping out. So what if she supported him, it was his plan…

Huh.

Who knew she’d find an answer here?

“Master?” Archer inquired, an eyebrow rising in worry. “Are you alright?”

Ruby nodded. “Don’t worry. I just think I have an answer to your—Archer look out!”

Archer whipped his head around to the front.

Lancer Alter had appeared before him, a bloodthirsty grin on his face, and Gae Bolg raised in his hands.


	43. Thunderous Reunion

Archer knew he was a goner.

Granted, he wouldn’t even have been aware of Cu Chulainn’s attack without Ruby’s shout, but he had no way to counter it now that he was. Even with Ruby’s Command Seal and her aura, his Rho Aias had barely been able to hold off Lancer Alter’s Noble Phantasm. He didn’t have nearly the speed or the magical energy remaining to stop his opponent’s strike.

He could only hope that Mordred had defeated Caster already and would get back in time to protect their masters.

It was strange. Not long ago, he had tried to kill them both himself, yet here he was mourning for the first time he could remember. After so long as a Counter Guardian, he had become so drowned in his anguish that even as he agonized over each life he had to take, he did not truly regret them as anything more than another flame he had to snuff out, another torturous price to pay so that he could supposedly save many more. He hadn’t known them, and even though he still would have given anything and everything to save them, he could not do any more than regret.

But with the current masters, he could not say that. He had spent months with them, acclimating to their personalities, learning their hopes and dreams, their tragedies and sorrows.

Ruby Rose, perhaps his niece of another world, perhaps his daughter. Perhaps even himself, in a way. But she was more than _that boy_ could have ever been. Despite her ambitions of heroism, whether they be driven by altruism or desire for her mother, the girl with silver eyes was not broken. She was not twisted as he was by the fire but pointed like a blade.

She stumbled. She suffered. She accepted the impossibility of true utopia, a world where no one cried. But she kept going. She strived for a happy ending, for all. She had forgiven his lethal transgressions on the grounds of his good intentions alone.

She was pure. Still a little too idealistic for his tastes and perhaps more forgiving than was wise, but she was not naïve. She knew the darkness of the world, she had waded through the mud. She simply refused to let it stain her. She kept moving forward.

Archer smiled softly.

She was a simple soul like that.

As for Jaune Arc…

“ **Strike Air!** ”

Archer’s smile turned up into a smirk.

Jaune Arc had his moments.

Gae Bolg paused mid-thrust as the colossal rush of wind slammed into its master. Cu Chulainn’s eyes widened as the cyclone crashed into his flank and sent him careening across the field, whatever cobblestone leftover from the clash of Noble Phantasms disintegrating into dust.

Still, even if the attack had bought Archer’s life, it could only last a moment.

Jaune fell to his knees, panting heavily as he leaned on Crocea Mors. He was still conscious, probably since he hadn’t already used his semblance this time, but Saber’s attack was still meant for a Servant’s _prana_ capacity. If Jaune didn’t have the absolutely massive aura reserves he did, he probably wouldn’t survive using the technique even once. As it was, he wouldn’t be able to do it again.

Nora and Ren rushed over to him, holding onto their leader so as to provide extra support.

Lancer Alter stomped his feet into the ground, his heavy boots digging trenches into the dirt until he finally slid to a stop. His armor was cracked and broken in several places, the black sea monster bone intact but compromised. His arm hung limply at his side, the flesh connecting it to his shoulder torn and ripped from his shoulder’s socket. There was a small, but bleeding cut on his left cheek.

Unfortunately, there was still a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Ahahahhahahahaha!” he half screamed, half laughed. After a few seconds, it turned into pure laughter. “That was quite the impressive trick, boy. Can’t say I expected a master to have a Servant level attack. You might just have the starts of a Noble Phantasm there.”

“That. Is. Impossible.” Weiss ground out through gnashed teeth. “Jaune Arc is not that powerful.”

Lancer lifted his lame arm. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree, my lady.” he japed.

His master whirled on him. “Would you stop posturing and regenerate, you numbskull?”

“Regenerate?” Blake squeaked out.

Lancer Alter shrugged. Black mud surged from within him, covering his wounds like a medicinal salve. The dark pus secreted into his armor and plugged every last crack like it was never there to begin with. It lashed out into his flailing arm and bound the limb back onto his body. Within moments, the arm that had nearly been removed entirely looked as good as new.

Archer’s eyes narrowed in impotent frustration. Servants had a far superior healing ability to regular humans, but they couldn’t repair such heavy injuries near instantaneously. Traditionally, that was why most masters sought some proficiency with healing magic, so they could support their familiars in battle. But from what he had seen, this Weiss did not have such abilities. So how was Cu Chulainn able to heal so quickly.

Cu Chulainn smirked as the mud healed the cut on his face. He twirled Gae Bolg with a grand flourish. “Apologies. I just wanted the boy to feel like he’d accomplished something. No sense sending a warrior to the grave without pride. But if my lovely master is worried about my health…”

Weiss’ cheeks blushed bright red, her mouth stuttering furiously as it tried to mobilize a response.

It actually reminded Archer a bit of Rin. If Rin was psychotic, that was.

…

…

…

Well, more psychotic.

At last, Weiss’ glared at her Servant and stamped her foot. “Just kill him already, you brazen buffoon!”

Lancer Alter’s mouth widened, his ravenous fangs revealed to all. He lowered his crimson spear at Jaune’s heart. “Congratulations, Jaune Arc. I was going to grant Archer the honor of being my first kill, but you’ve earned that prize.”

Nora stepped in front of Jaune, her hammer, Magnhild as Archer’s Reality Marble informed him, raised in a protective stance. “You’re not touching him.”

“I’m afraid I am, little girl,” Lancer said.

The ground erupted and the Hound of Chulainn charged.

A bolt of red lightning raced past Nora and collided with the black Servant, a familiar figure in gray armor meeting his strike. Twin streaks of crimson power battled for dominance in a maelstrom of legendary will.

A pulse of energy exploded out and forced Lancer Alter back.

“Like the lady said.” Mordred panted, sweat rolling down her forehead. “You’re not touching him.”

Cu Chulainn chuckled, not even winded from the clash. “So, the witch couldn’t handle you? Guess I shouldn’t have expected otherwise. A Knight Class isn’t exactly the best matchup for a Caster. Oh well. More fun for me.”

Mordred took a deep breath and raised Clarent high. “We’ll see how much fun you have when my steel takes your head.”

Archer frowned. Despite her bravado, he could tell Mordred was bluffing. Medea was hardly an easy opponent, even for a Saber. If Mordred had defeated her with Prana Burst as he expected she did, it was doubtful she had much magical energy left in her tank. Normally, Jaune could just refill her supply, but he had drained himself saving Archer with Strike Air.

Meanwhile, Cu Chulainn looked no worse than he did when the battle began, still bursting with his insidious feeling _prana_. Whether, it was a result of his master, or something else didn’t matter. Mordred could hold him off when she was at full power, perhaps long enough for Archer and Ruby to recover and help, but depleted as she was…

She’d be lucky to last more than a few exchanges.

Which meant Archer needed to figure something out quick. With Mordred holding the enemy’s attention, he finally had the chance to trace a more useful weapon from his arsenal, something that wasn’t just at the top of his head from common use like his twin swords.

Perhaps Rule Breaker? Medea’s Anti-Thaumaturgy Noble Phantasm could destroy any magecraft or magical contract. If he used it on Lancer Alter, it would cut his link with his master, perhaps nullifying his regeneration and giving Mordred a much-needed edge.

No. While the knife was powerful if it struck, it still required he land a blow with it. If he couldn’t land an attack on Cu Chulainn with Kanshou and Bakuya, there was no way he could do it with the far inferior blade. Shooting it as a projectile would be equally ineffective due to Protection from Arrows.

Gae Bolg? Defeat this new monstrous hound with the weapon of the far nobler version he’d fought before? There was an appealing irony to it, and however powerful this Alter was, he was still a Lancer. There was no way he had the Luck Stat to beat the causality loop.

No. While, as a bladed melee weapon, the legendary spear fell under his origin of ‘Sword’, activating the Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm within might not be enough. The Archer class’ Independent Action blessed him with less significant _prana_ needs than Mordred, but he and Ruby were still running on empty, so to say. He’d only get one shot with the Barbed Spear that Pierces with Death, and something told him that Lancer Alter would not be put down by a mere pierced heart, at least not by a C-Rank attack.

If they were going to win this battle, they would need to annihilate Cu Chulainn in a single shot. To be sure of that, they would need a Rank A+ Noble Phantasm, something that neither of his Caladbolgs could provide with his limited magical energy.

But if whatever power inside Cu Chulainn truly was of an insidious and _unholy_ nature…

Well. Archer thought he had something for the job.

He just hoped Mordred wouldn’t kill him for using it.

“ _I am the bone of my sword,_ ” he whispered, hoping Lancer Alter was too focused on Mordred to notice.

He beheld the image in his mind, the weapon he needed shining in a wondrous golden light. The blade was more intricate than the one Avalon held on the ground. The color scheme was similar, brilliant golds and the deepest blues, but the sword in his mind was clearly an artifact of status, not a weapon of war.

Still, the Golden Sword of the Victorious would do the job.

Caliburn was her sword, first and foremost, and it hadn’t let him down before.

Thunder crashed as storm clouds neared the town.

Blue particles shimmered in Archer’s unbroken left hand, the shape of The Sword of Selection slowly coming into being.

Cu Chulainn charged, his trail a black blur of death. Mordred rushed forward to face him.

It was a race. If he could finish tracing the holy sword and unleash its power before Lancer Alter got close to Mordred, he could annihilate him with one solid strike. But if the two knights got to melee range, they would be too close together for him to get a clear shot off. Despite its destructive potential, Caliburn was an Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm. Its beam of judgment could only have one target, and if he missed and hit Mordred, they were finished. And as proficient as he was as an Archer, it would take Arjuna himself to be definitively accurate against the clashing agility of both Cu Chulainn and Mordred.

At that point, Mordred would lose, and she would die. He could take the shot afterwards, but it would use up almost all, if not the entirety of his remaining _prana_. Whether he survived by some miracle or not, he would be useless in the battle. And with both Weiss and her giant wasp Grimm still around, he didn’t know how well the rest of the exhausted and beaten party would fare. Especially if Caster and her master were still around.

He felt a familiar weight appear in his hand.

Lancer Alter raised Gae Bolg, the bloody spear in striking distance of Mordred.

It was now or never.

Archer raised his left arm, ready for the strain to erase him from existence if necessary. He needed to use everything he had to be certain the blast would be enough. It was the surest path to victory.

Even a weakened Mordred could protect the others afterward. And if not, Jaune could use his semblance to drain aura from the others in nonlethal amounts in order to restore her to full power.

The others would be fine, even if he wouldn’t be.

That was enough.

Golden light surged around the blade of King Arthur’s first sword.

 **“** Sword of Selection, grant me power! Cleave the wicked! **Cali—** "

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”

The thunderous shout shocked Archer from his attack, the brilliant light fading back into the golden sword.

Instantly, he was on his toes, more so than ever before. He had been a Counter Guardian for eons, fought in every battlefield imaginable, witnessed every horror conceivable, and heard more yells than perhaps any other hero in existence. _Nothing_ should have been able to break his concentration with a mere shout.

And yet, this one possessed some sort of irresistible allure, an indomitable will that could not be ignored.

It seemed he was not alone in his bewilderment. Both Mordred and Lancer Alter had stopped in their tracks, two hardened heroes accustomed to the unpredictable echoes of combat. The same could be said of every combatant on the field, with huntsmen, huntresses, and Servants all gazing up at the tempestuous sky, the storm having moved overhead, crackling with thunder and lightning.

Cu Chulainn raised an eyebrow. “What the hell—”

That’s when it happened. With the speed of a thunderbolt, they came crashing out of the sky. One charging down on a divine chariot…

And the other having been thrown?

 

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Yang wished she’d known Iskandar could throw her like a football _before_ she’d exclaimed her need to get down to the courtyard. A little forewarning certainly would have made her sudden plummet a little more manageable. Or at least kept her from catching fire.

Oh well. That massive Queen Lancer was hovering above someone on a roof, and with Iskandar about to make his grand entrance on the enemy Servant, someone had to be the dive bomber. Besides, she had the best landing strategy around.

Ember Celica deployed, the long barrels extending across her arms. She fired off a dozen rounds, each shot’s recoil allowing her to maneuver through the sky. A veil of flames erupted as the air ignited around her. She kept her eyes on the Queen Lancer.

The monster turned around as she fell. It screeched a horrific yell and fired a long stinger at the descending huntress.

Yang grit her teeth. Her gauntlets roared again, and she easily dodged the pincer, her eyes remaining a calm violet the entire time. As the blade passed by her head, she thrust her weapons behind her and blasted herself closer.

She raised her arm, and smashed into the Queen Lancer with one brutal, flaming punch.

With the momentum of her fall and Yang’s own natural strength, the blow struck with the force of a railgun. The monster’s bone armor crumpled like sandpaper, ripping into whatever constituted its brain. The Grimm plummeted to the ground and shrieked its dying gasp, dissipating to nothingness soon after.

Yang herself flipped and landed, kneeling right next to the corpse. Her arm shook with a slight tremor, but she gripped it with the other, the one that bore the Command Seals, and it settled down. She sighed and looked up to where the Grimm had been. She needed to make sure the person it had been over was safe.

She just didn’t expect that person to be familiar.

“Yang?”

“Weiss?”

Of all the people to find in the middle of nowhere, the Ice Queen was certainly not the teammate she’d expected. Sure, she was a little different: yellow eyes, black dress, and those weird black veins running by her eyes. But it was still the same old Weiss.

Suddenly, she started laughing.

Yang frowned. Her gauntlets came up.

Something was wrong. Weiss didn’t laugh.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude.” a tall guy wearing spiked black armor and wielding a long crimson spear inquired. “But, who are you—Ahhhh!”

Iskandar promptly chose that moment to arrive and run over the spearman with the Gordius Wheel. The spiked wheels of the chariot ground the poor man like a hamburger patty, with only his armor preventing him from being turned into roadkill.

“Ow, ow, ow, OW!”

Eventually, the cycle of the wheels spat the spearman out the other side, sending him flying into the building Weiss was standing atop. The poor guy’s armor was shredded into scraps, his body a torn mess.

Iskandar rode up next to Yang. “Ha ha! A glorious entrance, master. It has been a long time since I have been second to enter a battle.”

Yang rolled her eyes, but there was a joyful smirk on her lips. “Would appreciate a heads up the next time you throw me out of the chariot.”

Iskandar laughed. “My apologies, master. I had assumed from your words that you wished to enter the fray as soon as possible.”

“Fair enough.” Yang shrugged. She looked over at the mess that used to be the spiked guy. “So, was he the Servant you sensed?”

“Most certainly.” Iskandar nodded gravely. “Only one of incredible power could survive a charge from my chariot.”

“Survive?”

Black mud surged out of the tarnished flesh, filling every gash and pouring into every ruined limb. Slowly, the disgusting sludge regenerated every wound, allowing the spearman to rise back to his feet, even his armor restored to pristine condition.

He gasped and took in a huge breath. “Okay. What?”

“Get out of the way.” a voice from behind Yang commanded. She turned and saw another man, this one with silver hair and a crimson jacket. He looked just as beaten up as the other guy, but he wasn’t healing. He limply held a brilliant golden sword in his only working arm.

Yang thought she saw a familiar red hood behind him but that must have been her imagination. She’d already gotten lucky with Weiss. There was no way the others would be here too.

“Yang? Is that you?”

…

Okay. She’d gotten really lucky.

Yang turned to the left and saw, amazingly, her entire friend group from Beacon. Plus one blonde chick in gray armor that looked a lot like Mrs. Arc.

Behind the girl was three-quarters of Team JNPR. Or, the remnants of Team JNPR, she remembered mournfully, Pyrrha’s smiling face running through her mind. They were all battered and bruised, Jaune was even on his knees, but they all seemed well enough. Sun was beside them, as beaten as the others, and in his arms was the one who’d spoken.

Her partner.

Blake had seen better days. While the others had been battered, they didn’t seem to have any serious injuries, or at least nothing aura couldn’t heal in half an hour or so. Blake had dozens of cuts all over her body, all of them bleeding profusely. Both of her arms were bent backward at unnatural, painful looking angles.

Tears pooled in her amber eyes.

Yang shot her a comforting grin. “Hey, partner. Sorry it took me so long.”

Blake chortled, a smile spreading across her lips. “Seriously? You’re right on time.”

“A little late, really.” Weiss sneered. “I would rather end you all at once than one by one.”

Yang raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Awww, come on, Weiss-cream. Did you miss me?”

Weiss glared at her and facepalmed, rapidly taking deep breaths. “Oh… killing you is going to be so sweet.”

“Yang!” Sun shouted. “Salem did something to her! She’s _actually_ trying to kill us!”

“What?” Yang exclaimed. “Weiss, what happened—”

“It doesn’t matter what happened to me!” Weiss screamed. “Lancer Alter, annihilate this interloper!”

“Okay.” the black spearman agreed, readying his crimson spear.

“Get out of the way!” the man with silver hair roared.

The Mrs. Arc lookalike raised her sword, sparks of red electricity lighting across the blade.

“Wait!” Iskandar shouted, raising his hand for silence.

His voice carried like thunder, stunning all present in their tracks. He did not demand attention, he simply took it because it was his to have. Even Weiss and the Lancer Alter guy locked their eyes on him.

Yang’s Servant grinned widely at all present. “That’s better. Now then, I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors. In this war for the Holy Grail, I am of the Rider class. Before we begin hostilities, I would like to see if negotiations are feasible.”

Yang could practically feel everyone’s jaws drop. Either by Iskandar’s unorthodox suggestion of diplomacy or the audacity of revealing his name upfront, no one could quite comprehend the figure before them.

It was Lancer Alter who recovered first.

“Before we begin?” he muttered disbelievingly. “You just ran me over!”

“A preemptive measure to put my master’s mind at ease. My apologies for any discomfort you experienced.” Iskandar conceded. “Though, your survival speaks greatly of your strength, Lancer…Alter, was it? I do not know how you have come to be in this Holy Grail War, nor what dark power sustains you, but you have proven yourself to be among the highest caliber of warrior.”

Lancer Alter smirked. “It’s nice to be appreciated. You’re not too bad yourself, Rider. I was beginning to forget what pain felt like before you showed up.”

“Are you really complimenting him?” Weiss yelled at the black spearman. “He’s the enemy!”

Lancer Alter shrugged. “Just because we’re enemies doesn’t mean we have to be impolite. Evil is one thing, my lady, but rudeness is inexcusable.”

Weiss’ eyebrow twitched merciless before she just sighed in resignation.

“Haha!” Iskandar laughed. “I see I was not mistaken of you, Lancer Alter. Though, hopefully, we can part this place as friends.”

Rider threw his arms wide, gesturing to Lancer Alter, the silver-haired man, and the Mrs. Arc lookalike. “What say you all of yielding the Holy Grail to me and joining my glorious and invincible army! You would be treated as honored companions and friends, as we share in the wonder of battle and the joy of world conquest!”

Once again, silence followed Iskandar’s speech. After what happened with Raven, Yang didn’t expect any of the other Servants to actually take Rider’s offer. All of them supposedly had a reason to want the grail too. Though given Jaune and Ruby were masters, they would probably ally with them anyway.

Lancer Alter raised an eyebrow. He shook his head mirthfully. “Now that is something I can safely say I did not expect to hear in this war. Regretfully, I must decline your offer, King of Conquerors. My loyalty is bound to the queen who’s power runs through my veins. I couldn’t trade her for you even if I wanted to. Although, I probably wouldn’t anyway. You seem like far too interesting a man to have as anything but an enemy.”

“I also must decline.” the silver-haired man stated. “I have no interest in world conquest, and I am satisfied with my current master.”

Iskandar sighed. “A true shame. Though I cannot fault you for your loyalty.” He turned to the blond woman. “And what of you—King of Knights? How joyous to see you again!”

The Mrs. Arc lookalike didn’t seem to shame the sentiment. Her entire body shook with fury, the sparks on her blade surging into spats of lightning. “You… you dare? First, you interrupt our battle with this ridiculous drivel, insinuating that _I_ , the one true successor of the King of Knights, would ever lower myself beneath the kneel of one less than him. And now, you have the gall to mistake my identity? I will cleave your skull with your own spine, Rider!”

“Uh, Saber?” Jaune piped up.

The blond took a deep breath, the electricity from her sword settling down. “ _Yes_ , master?”

Jaune pointed to Lancer Alter. “Priorities.”

Saber snarled and repositioned her sword towards the spearman. “Right.”

She spared a glare towards Iskandar. “Your time will come, _King_ of Conquerors.”

The red-headed man raised an eyebrow. “No. Definitely not the King of Knights.”

“Argh!”

Lancer Alter grinned and swept his spear in front of him. “As amusing as this is, may we continue with the battle? I assume you wish to side with Saber and Archer, correct, Rider?”

Iskandar shrugged. He looked to Yang. “Master? Your preference?”

Yang nodded. She didn’t know what was going on with Weiss, but it was plain that she wasn’t in her right mind. Saber at least was Jaune’s Servant, so that side was probably their best bet for subduing her and getting her back to her old self. Besides, if Lancer Alter could heal from Rider’s charge, a bit of backup would be welcome.

Iskandar grinned. “Very well. I assume you still wish for me to get out of the way, correct, Archer?”

“That would be preferable, yes.” the silver-haired man confirmed.

“Perfect, then let us—”

Iskandar’s eyes widened. He cracked the reins of the Gordius Wheel and yanked Yang into the chariot, racing back to Archer.

A pink laser beam vaporized the ground they’d previously stood upon.

A bullhead lowered itself down from the sky, hovering in the air behind Weiss’ roof. The cargo bay door was open. Two people stood in the opening, one an unfamiliar woman in a purple cloak leaning on the side of the ship for support, the other…

“Emerald?” Weiss called. “I didn’t expect you to come join in on the fun.”

The green-haired girl didn’t look like she’d come to join anything. She frowned as she glared furiously at Weiss.

“Get in. We’re leaving” she commanded.

Weiss’ eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“You don’t really expect us to leave the battle unfinished, do you?” Lancer Alter spat furiously.

“We are not fighting three Servants without backup!” Emerald roared. “Get in! Or I will leave you to die alone.”

Lancer Alter scoffed. “You don’t really expect that to scare—”

He stopped midsentence. The black mud that had earlier healed him expanded over his skin for a moment, his blood red eyes glowing a brilliant scarlet for a brief instant.

The changes passed like a fleeting shadow and the spearman scowled. “As my queen commands.”

The black veins around Weiss’ eye pulsed for a moment. Then, she sighed. “Very well, Emerald.”

She and Lancer Alter leapt into the bullhead. Weiss turned back and smiled at the ones on the ground. “It seems we’ll have to cut this little reunion short. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to indulge your bloodlust, Yang, but one doesn’t disappoint the Queen. But don’t worry, when we meet again, I will tear the reckoning from your heart. See you all at Haven.”

The cargo bay door closed. A few moments later, the bullhead flew away.

Yang could only cock an eyebrow in confusion and horror. From what she’d heard, Emerald’s entire team had been behind the Fall of Beacon, with Mercury even trying to kill her and Blake when they were escaping. What could Salem had done to Weiss that she’d willingly work with her after all the suffering they’d caused?

“Can we catch up to them?” she asked her Servant.

“Most definitely, but I would not advise it,” Iskandar replied. “They fled due to our numbers. Chasing after them alone would not be wise.”

Yang clenched her fists. “It still feels like abandoning her.”

Iskandar patted her on the back, his grip soft and controlled. “I know. But you cannot help this Weiss character if you’re dead. Besides, we should get to know our new allies. Maybe then I can find a way to convince them to join my army.”

Yang chuckled and shook her head. She jumped out of the Gordius Wheel.

The entire group had slowly started to congregate around her. Saber still held out her sword warily, but her armor disappeared (was she wearing HER jacket?), so that was probably a good sign, though it may have had something to do with Jaune keeping a hand on her shoulder.

Sun walked up to her, a wide smile on his face and Blake in his arms. Yang returned the grin and glanced down at Blake.

“I’d hold your hand, make this lovey-dovey and all,” Yang promised, “but, you know…”

Blake chuckled, her broken arms clearly in view. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Yang.”

The blonde brawler’s heart stopped. She knew that voice. She knew it in the foundation of her soul. It was the one she treasured above all others.

But, Weiss and Blake had already been there. Could she really be that lucky?

She turned and saw the other half of the group

Archer was slowly picking himself up from the group, having been knocked down by the backlash of the pink beam. The golden sword in his hand dissipated into a shower of blue sparks. Off to the side, where she hadn’t noticed before, she spotted Uncle Qrow picking up some kid with messed up legs.

But she didn’t care about that.

She only had eyes for her sister.

Ruby was different. Not nearly as much as Weiss, but there were little changes. She was a bit taller, a bit more muscular, and she’d added a white shirt under her usual black dress. Her red hood, once so full and brilliant, was a bit faded, tattered and torn around the edges. Traversing the world had taken its toll.

But her eyes. Those wonderful silver eyes, so like her mother’s, still shone with limitless compassion and care.

Even as they filled with tears, Yang couldn’t help her elation at seeing them once again.

Ruby shuddered. “Yang, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have left while you were still out, but I had to! There was the war! And even dad said—”

Yang rushed over and engulfed her sister in a massive hug. She squeezed her close, trying to let her know it was alright, she understood. Ruby sought a noble dream, and even if she had to leave to seek it, Yang would keep her in her heart always.

But…

“I love you.” she declared softly. “But Ruby… something happened to dad…”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Weiss was fuming.

She had them. She had them all. Her entire team was within her grasp. She could have crushed them like the ants they were.

And then Emerald had snatched it away.

So what if the Queen had supported the retreat? Emerald had no right to even suggest it. Lancer Alter would have destroyed all of them!

“I hope you realize that I won’t forget this.” Weiss snarled.

Emerald helped Caster sit down in one of the seats in the cockpit, the light indicating the autopilot glowing brightly. After her Servant was off her feet, Emerald whirled on both Weiss and Lancer who stood behind her.

“Forget what? How I saved you from your own stupidity?”

“How you robbed me of the blood that is rightfully mine.”

“Oh please.” Emerald scoffed. “You were losing momentum. As soon as Rider showed up, you were finished.”

Cu Chulainn shrugged. “I could have taken him.”

“Precisely.” Weiss concurred. “And once we dealt with him, we would have crushed the other two. We could have slaughtered half the competition.”

“You’re missing the point.” Emerald raged. “There. Were. Three of them! That means at minimum: three Noble Phantasms, three different angles of attack, and what? Nine Command Seals?”

“The silver-eyed girl already used one.” Cu Chulainn argued. “And Archer was only barely able to block Gae Bolg with it. None of them were able to do any real damage to me.”

“Because you fought them all one on one!” Emerald roared. “Do you not understand that? If they worked together, lined you up, they would have beaten you while you were shouting for ‘battle’. If Caster hadn’t divided them, Saber and Archer could have set you up for her Noble Phantasm, which by the way, nearly killed her with a graze.”

“Lancer Alter has far superior endurance to Caster.” Weiss retorted.

“A direct hit still would have killed him. And we don’t know what the hell Rider can do. If he could have held you off, and according to his stats, he could have, then Saber and Archer would have had time to restore their _prana_ and then triple team you. Maybe you could have taken two of them at once, but not all three.”

“We would have found a way.” Weiss insisted. “Your cowardice is driven by base fears.”

Emerald narrowed her eyes. “And yet, I’m still alive. My _cowardice_ has let me outlive a whole mess of smug psychopaths like you. Mercury, Tyrian…”

“Cinder.”

“Errggghhh” Emerald growled. “Even if Lancer Alter could have kept all the Servants occupied, you would have been outnumbered, what? Six to one?”

Weiss glared at the green haired girl. “I could have handled them.”

“Not if you kept talking, you couldn’t have.” Emerald countered. “You literally had Belladonna in a gravity trap. You could have crushed her in an instant, but you wasted time with torture and gave Ruby time to fight back. Hell, you could have slaughtered them both in an instant if you had just shut up instead of stopping to taunt them every five seconds.”

Weiss scoffed. “I seem to remember you doing quite a bit of talking when you came for me in Atlas.”

“And Arma Gigas would have split me in half if Caster hadn’t stepped in.” Emerald pointed out. “I’ve been a thief all my life, and the ones that get caught are the ones who are so busy thinking they’re unbeatable that they don’t do their job. You want to have fun? You want to relish in _being evil_? Fine. But save it for after you’ve won the fight. Because otherwise, you won’t win. And Salem will come down on _my_ head for it.”

Emerald whirled around and returned to the pilot’s seat, flicking off the autopilot and checking on Caster.

Weiss tried to call her back over but found she had nothing to say. The thief wasn’t wrong. Lancer Alter was facing other heroes of legend, so it was understandable that they’d put up a fight, but she had no excuse. With her power, she should have been able to squash her former teammates in moments. Instead, she’d played around with them and accomplished nothing. Indeed, she’d revealed Lancer Alter’s existence and lost the element of surprise.

She felt a strong, comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You okay, my lady?” Cu Chulainn inquired softly.

Weiss nodded. “Yes… I’m… I’m fine. I just… have a lot to think about.”

“I apologize if my… encouragement contributed to your distress.”

Weiss scoffed. “Don’t be silly, you idiot. I make my own choices. Besides, I can’t remember the last time someone gave me advice solely to make me happy. Everyone else always had some ulterior motive like getting me to fall in line.”

She raised an eyebrow, a thought occurring to her. “Did you have one?”

Lancer Alter shrugged. “I suppose. I did want you to loosen up a bit, but honestly, I just don’t like seeing a beautiful woman so tied up in knots. You deserve to have a little fun.”

Weiss’ eyes went wide. She chuckled and shook her head mirthfully. “You idiot.”

As irritating as Emerald was, her points had… merit. The Queen had enforced her order to retreat after all. The others shouldn’t have lasted half as long against her. She could torture them after Lancer Alter had dealt with their Servants and could hold them down. Until then, she’d have to be all business to avoid another near disaster.

She couldn’t help but smirk though. Even in defeat, she had seen how her mere appearance had rattled her old team. For now, that would be enough.

But in the future?

They, and Haven Academy, were doomed.


	44. Questions

Ruby thought the universe was finally throwing her a bone.

Everything had gone horribly wrong. Somehow, Salem had mind controlled Weiss, and now her best friend wanted to kill her and dance on her grave. She had barely been able to think during the battle in Kuroyuri, Blake saving her more often than not in the fight. But when Weiss had caught Blake in that gravity trap, when she was torturing her to death, she’d done the one thing she’d sworn not to do.

She’d given up.

She’d done it in Unlimited Bladeworks and she’d promised afterward to find the answer to Archer’s question, to find the way to save one life without taking another in turn. And she had.

But not soon enough. Because in the moment, when all she could hear were Blake screams of agony and Weiss’ diabolical cackles, she’d given up. She’d acted on her terror and shot her own partner with an Origin Round, hoping that it would save her friend without killing her BFF.

The bullet hadn’t worked, why she didn’t know, but Weiss had apparently still been frightened enough to let Blake go, with Sun managing to catch her before she hit the ground. But they were still doomed, and even with Archer’s valiant defense and Mordred’s relentless protection, Ruby couldn’t think of a way out. She couldn’t save her friends.

But then, the sky opened up and, just like always, Yang came to her rescue.

It was like a scene out of one of her comic books. Her sister, who she last saw broken and comatose, descending from the sky, a ball of fire riding a bolt of lightning. She annihilated the Queen Lancer with a single punch and landed strong before Ruby, with the Rider Servant of all things right beside her. And he was a character all his own.

It hadn’t been the Team RWBY reunion she’d hoped for, but at least they’d all survived it, Weiss included. She didn’t think she’d ever be thankful to Emerald again after what happened to Penny, but she spared the girl a thought of gratitude for making sure none of her friends had to kill each other. Of course, she then rescinded that gratitude when she learned from Blake that it had been her who had kidnapped Weiss and brought the Schnee Heiress to Salem in the first place.

Still, Ruby had been terrified when Yang had seen her. She knew she’d had no choice but to leave Patch, to leave Yang. The world was in danger and if she’d stayed at the house, she’d have just been drawing enemy masters there. But she’d still left her sister, the sister who had always stood by her and supported her and called her special even when she herself had desired only ‘normal knees’. She’d left her sister behind, comatose and broken. She wouldn’t have blamed her if her eyes had blazed crimson the moment they caught sight of her.

Instead, her sister engulfed her in a tearful hug and told her she loved her.

She thought the universe had finally thrown her a bone.

She should have known better.

“Dad’s… dying?”

They had all moved to a forest near Kuroyuri, sitting and standing in a circle to trade notes on what had happened. Yang stood across from Ruby, the jacket Mordred had taken from the closet now once again adorning her form (and hadn’t that been fun to get the Knight of Treachery to let go of). Her long-haired sister nodded solemnly, her eyes wet, but managing to hold back tears. She’d probably been crying for a while anyway.

Ruby hadn’t. Her silver eyes were soon flooded with waterworks, despair crushing her like a cascading waterfall.

And all because of _him._

Ruby’s hands curled into fists.

“ _Kirei,_ ” she growled.

It all went back to him. He’d pretended to be her friend. He’d nearly killed Yang. He’d allowed Cinder’s plans to decimate Vale and then backstabbed her to start the Grail War. And now, he’d trapped her father in a downward spiral of agony and death.

It made her relieved her own Origin Round had failed.

Yet still, Ruby was disturbed with herself. She had never felt what she felt for Kirei before, but she instantly knew what it was. Hatred.

Ruby had never hated anyone before. She’d been annoyed by Weiss in their early interactions. She’d disliked Torchwick for his criminal activities and rejoiced when they’d caught him, but she’d still regretted that he had died during the Fall, even if his death had essentially prevented her own.

She wouldn’t mourn Kirei.

She would find him. She would find him, and she would make him _suffer_.

And that made her more frightened than she had ever been.

She felt a strong hand wrap around her shoulder. She looked up to see Uncle Qrow gazing down at her, his face firm, but obviously strained.

“Don’t worry, kiddo.” he comforted her. “Your old man’s stronger than he looks. If anyone can hold on, it’s him.”

Ruby appreciated the effort, but even through her own tears, she could see the pinpricks of his own forming in the corner of his eyes.

Her father was done for.

Everyone in the circle, save Oscar who was still unconscious, shot her sympathetic and pitying looks. Even Mordred, still in armor, who stood over Jaune as he used his semblance to speed up Blake’s healing. Nora and Ren stood by their leader while Sun knelt at Blake’s side. Yang’s Servant, Iskandar, stood at her side, his once exuberant face solemn and serious.

The only one who wasn’t looking at her was Archer. His gaze was locked on his own hands, an indecipherable turmoil of emotions storming across his face. Given the other news Yang had brought, she couldn’t really blame him.

“Kiritsugu Emiya,” he muttered dangerously. “Are you absolutely sure that was Assassin’s True Name?”

“That’s what dad and Kirei called him,” Yang confirmed. “How do you know him? I thought you Heroic Spirits were like, ancient or something.”

“It’s complicated,” Archer replied. “Suffice to say, his ideals made me who I am today. Though how he became a Servant is beyond me. He told me he’d failed to become a hero.”

“Well, he certainly isn’t a fan of Kirei, so that’s a point for him in my book.” Yang declared. “He spent the entire time trying to get us out of there.”

“Um, this might be a bit… dark, but if this Kiritsugu guy hates Kirei so much, why is he staying his Servant?” Sun inquired. “I mean, yeah it’d be a pretty extreme thing to do but with you Servants, extreme is usually the order of the day.”

“Because Kiritsugu Emiya plays the long game,” Archer explained. “He is willing to risk being forced to kill by Kirei, so long as it gives him more time to figure out how to kill Kirei in turn, a task that has likely been impeded by a Command Seal of some kind. Besides, he is well aware of Kirei’s knowledge of the Holy Grail War. If he were to find himself without a Servant, he would simply steal one from another master, a simple task with Gilgamesh at his back. So long as he has Assassin to power, Kirei can’t afford the magical energy upkeep of any more Servants, especially since Gilgamesh would still require more power during battle.”

“But doesn’t need him to survive, right?” Jaune asked. “He has a physical body, like my mom?”

“They came to this time the same way, so he should.” Qrow deduced. His hand shook at his side. “Kiritsugu Emiya… Summer never had anything bad to say about him, but her stories always made him sound like the most dangerous man in the world.”

“He has a better claim than most,” Archer noted bitterly.

“So, does Kirei.” Yang snarled. “Aura is a pretty unknown science on its own and adding magic into the mix hasn’t made the doctors’ jobs any easier.” She paused for a moment, her frown deepening. “Mom said the grail was the only thing that can heal him.”

Ah yes. It’d been nice to learn where Raven had disappeared to after they’d come back from Archer’s Reality Marble. While Ruby was quite happy to not be greeted by Hercules when she returned to her own world, she had been puzzled by her aunt’s sudden retreat. Now, she looked kinder on the woman. She’d gone to help their family, even if she was too late. Even then, she easily could have attacked Yang and Iskandar with both her Berserkers, gotten one step closer to the grail.

But she didn’t. She’d made sure they were apprised of their new situation (likely in an effort to get Yang to hand over Iskandar, but still…), and when she’d been told to leave, she’d left, not even resuming her attack on their party. It was enough to raise Ruby’s opinion of her sister’s mother. Maybe if they met again, she could be convinced to join them in earnest instead of seeking to take their Servants. They had to be able to come to a compromise over their wishes.

Of course, she’d also apparently murdered the last Spring Maiden, so there was also that to consider. But like Archer once told her, the Holy Grail War would force her to make alliances with people she’d prefer not to. And whatever her sins, Raven was still better than Salem.

Qrow nodded. “Raven lies about a lot, but that’s not one of them. Summer said she got around twenty or so Origin Rounds from Kiritsugu. She never had any qualms about using them on Grimm if she needed to, but she always hesitated when it came to people. Said she’d seen her old man use them on people and that there’s no saving the people they hit.”

“But the grail can do nearly anything,” Archer mentioned. “So long as it has a method, there’s almost no limit to its power.”

Yang’s eyes lit up (the good way, not the angry way). “Then we can save him!” she cheered. “We can actually save him!”

She whirled around to Jaune. “Jaune, I know you’ve probably got your own wish, but please, help us do this. This our father we’re talking about.”

Jaune grimaced, a drop of sweat dribbling down his brow. “I know, Yang. I met him at your house. He gave me some advice and helped me send a letter to my family. He seemed like a really great guy. But…”

Yang’s eyes narrowed. “But what?”

“But, and I know this so horrible to say, there are bigger things at stake here.” Jaune reminded everyone. “Salem is immortal, invincible. The only thing that can kill her, that can end the Grimm forever, is the Grail. Believe me, I would like nothing more than to use its power to bring back Pyrrha and my mom, but I can’t. We can’t. We can’t sacrifice the living to save the dead.”

Yang’s fists closed in fury. Her eyes darkened into red. “My dad is not dead. Not yet. We can still save him.”

“And leave who to die?” Jaune asked.

Yang growled. She whirled around and stomped off into the forest.

Ruby sighed. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“It may be best to let her calm done,” Iskandar advised. “Such news is never easy to hear and not giving it a chance to sink in can have dangerous consequences.”

“She’s my sister.” Ruby protested. “She’d never hurt me.”

“Not intentionally.” Iskandar conceded. “But if that were the only way to cause harm, the world would be a far simpler place.”

Ruby shook her head and raced off. She couldn’t not try to help just because she was afraid.

“Yang!” she shouted. She closed in on her stomping sister. “Yang, stop!”

She caught Yang’s shoulder and the two sisters found themselves face to face. Yang’s eyes had already calmed themselves down to purple.

Ruby sighed. “You know Jaune didn’t mean anything by that. He wasn’t trying to be cruel.”

Yang huffed. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I can’t believe he would be so calculating. You can’t just put people’s lives on a scale like that.”

“It’s not a good thing to do.” Ruby conceded with a gulp. “But we have to. It’s our job as huntresses.”

“Huh, you sound just like him.” Yang chuckled. However, the laughter died when she looked at Ruby’s face for a few more moments and saw she was dead serious. “What? You agree with him? You want to just let dad die?”

“It’s not about wanting to let anyone die.” Ruby protested. “It’s about… it’s about saving as many people as we can.”

Gods knew those words tore her up inside to say. More than anything, she wanted to race back to Patch and cure her daddy so she could bury herself in his arms. But the grail was the _only_ way to destroy Salem. If she used its power for anything else, she was condemning untold thousands, millions to suffering at the hands of the Grimm, dishonoring everything her father had fought for, everything her mother had died for.

How could her father look her in the eye knowing she’d sacrificed all humanity in his name?

“Besides, Jaune didn’t get me to agree to anything. Like he said, he wanted to use the grail to bring back Pyrrha and Arturia. I convinced him that this is what we have to do.” Ruby revealed.

Yang’s eyes widened in shock. “You? But how?”

Ruby shuffled on her feet, off-put by Yang’s sudden shift from anger. “Oh, you know. What we learned in school: logical argument, emotional appeal—”

“No, no, not that.” Yang stopped her. “You… convinced him _not_ to save people? That… that just doesn’t seem like you, Ruby. You’ve always wanted to save everyone.”

Ruby looked down, her silver gaze filled with resignation. “I still want to. But I can’t. No one can. It’s impossible. Archer showed me that.”

“Archer? Your Servant?”

“Yeah,” Ruby confirmed. “It was right after we got away from Hercules. We were in his Reality Marble. He tried to kill me. Jaune gave me a pep talk—”

“Wait, what?!?”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Jaune gave me a pep talk?”

“No! Your Servant tried to kill you!” Yang exploded. Her eyes blazed crimson. “He’s dead.”

Ruby squeaked in panic. She’d forgotten they’d conveniently left that detail out when they were catching Yang up, mostly to avoid her current reaction. The red hooded girl planted herself in front of her sister and waved her arms wildly. “No, no, no, no, no! Yang, we settled it a bit ago! Everything’s fine! We’re fine!”

“He. Tried. To. Kill. You.”

“Yes, but he was trying to help!”

“How?”

“He was worried I’d end up so desperate to save people that I’d accept an offer from the primordial embodiment of humanity to become an immortal killing machine just like he did because he’s mom’s alternate timeline counterpart!”

That shocked Yang out of her fury. “ _What_?”

Ruby panted. “Yeah. It’s a bit complicated. But, the point is he was trying to help. And he still wants to help. He’s helping me train my silver eyes. We wouldn’t have survived Kuroyuri without him.”

Yang didn’t look completely convinced, but she sighed in the end, a clear sign of relenting. “Fine. He gets to live. But if he so much as looks at you wrong, Rider’s turning him into paste.”

“Fair enough.”

Yang didn’t look comforted. “Ruby… I can’t just let dad die. And I can’t believe you would either.”

“I don’t want to,” Ruby assured her. “But if I have to choose between him and the world… he’d want me to choose the world.”

“But you’ve never been one to choose,” Yang responded. “You’re a maverick, Ruby. You make the impossible, possible. You always find another way.”

Ruby frowned. “I’ll look for one, Yang. If there’s a way to do both, I’ll take it, gladly. But if there isn’t… Yang… we have to do the right thing.”

“How can the right thing be to let dad die?”

“It is,” Ruby stated glumly, tears trickling down her eyes. “It’s just not the easy thing.”

Yang’s fists closed, but her eyes didn’t relight. She knew Ruby was right. She would have raged more at Jaune if she didn’t. That didn’t make the tears that fell down her face any less mournful.

She wiped her eyes clean with her arm. “Can you… can you give me some time alone?”

Ruby’s heart sank. They’d just reunited. And Yang hated being alone. She thrived as the life of the party.

Still, any further argument wouldn’t help. She turned to go but paused as she turned and looked back.

“I love you.”

She got no response. With a broken heart, she started walking back to the clearing.

“Ruby.”

She whirled around at the sudden call. She turned just in time to be engulfed in a massive hug. Tears pooled in her eyes as she felt Yang’s rain down on her shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

The two of them stood there, embracing the sister they loved so dearly and missed for so long. Two masters, two huntresses.

But before all, always two sisters.

Two sisters who loved each other.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Jaune’s hands flared with aura as his semblance reinforced Blake’s. Slowly, her shattered arms came back together, bit by bit, piece by piece.

“How’d you do this with Ruby mid-fight?” Blake remarked. “It seems too slow to be usable in battle.”

Jaune chuckled. “Back then, I was panicking. I didn’t know what was happening, and I just pumped as much power into Ruby as I could. It might have been natural, or I might have just gotten lucky that it worked.”

“I get it,” Sun noted from where he sat next to them. Ren and Nora had gone off to have a talk of their own after Ruby and Yang had left. Iskandar had wandered off somewhere, while Qrow was preparing Oscar for his healing session after Blake’s. “You don’t know exactly how it works, so you want to take it slow, so nothing goes wrong.”

“Exactly,” Jaune confirmed.

Of course, he didn’t mention how he was specifically worried about accidentally absorbing Blake’s aura like he had his mom’s power. With an ability that dangerous, he had to make sure he didn’t use it without realizing it again, especially when he was healing his friends. Even if he had to be frank with Yang, he never wanted to hurt any of them.

Of course, it wasn’t just him who depended on his aura.

“Hey, Saber!” Jaune called. “Are you still good? You still have enough aura to power you?”

Getting no response, Jaune turned his head to see Mordred leaning against a tree, Excalibur inside Avalon lying at her side. Her arms were crossed, and her face was scrunched in pensive thought. It was honestly a bit weird to see on her.

“Saber!” Jaune called. “Mordred!”

The Knight of Treachery looked up with start. “Huh? Did you say something, master?”

Jaune looked on his Servant with worry. “I wanted to make sure my semblance wasn’t hurting you like Strike Air can. You’ve already spent way more time _prana_ strained than you should have had to suffer through.”

“Oh,” Mordred remarked. “No. It’s fine, master. I don’t feel anything.”

“Your power amplifying shouldn’t cost nearly as much aura to use as Strike Air. Your semblance is its natural extension after all.” Archer explained. “Strike Air is a more advanced application than it’s used to.”

Jaune frowned. “Is there any way to make it strain less? It’s hardly useful if it leaves Mordred without power or knocks me unconscious.”

A few days ago, Jaune wouldn’t even have considered asking Archer for help after what happened in Unlimited Bladeworks. But, Ruby had asked him to give the man a chance to prove he really was on their side, and he didn’t know what to call his display in Kuroyuri if it wasn’t concrete evidence. He owed the Servant of the Bow his life, and more importantly, the lives of his friends. The man who was once Shirou Emiya was still somewhat of an enigma to him, but he had earned his trust.

Archer rubbed his chin in thought. “Practice above all will help. You have to get your aura more used to your mother’s power, figure out exactly how to best incorporate it into the energy you have. I’d advise trying to figure out its Invisible Air function as a starting point.”

Jaune nodded. “Invisible Air, got it. Thanks, Archer. With any luck, I can use it to—”

“How did you wield Caliburn?” Mordred demanded, her voice strangely even for her. Usually, she was all fire when she wanted something.

But Jaune recognized the sword name. Mom had told him all about the sword of selection. He didn’t think it was a divine construct, so Archer could, in theory, trace it. But when would he have seen it? He was mom’s master in his Grail War, but didn’t she only have Excalibur when she was summoned as a Servant?

Archer sighed. “So, you did notice that. How irritating. Rest assured, I don’t have the actual sword. It was simply a projection.”

“That’s not what I said,” Mordred growled. “I said, how did you wield it. Right before Rider showed up, the blade was glowing. You were about to unleash its power. Only father has ever done that before.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “It was a fake. My fake. If it allowed me to recreate it, why would it not allow me to use it?”

“A fake,” Mordred mumbled. “Of course. That’s why. You could use it because it was a fake. Nothing else.”

Jaune was confused. Why was Mordred focusing on that detail?

“I confess, this was not the reproof I was expecting from you,” Archer mentioned. “I anticipated far more fire… ah. You need not be jealous. If I were to face the test of selection, I would not be able to pull the sword from the stone either. I am not worthy, nor suited to be a king.”

“Well, I am!” Mordred roared. “And I will. I will win this war, Jester. I will win this war and draw the sword from the stone.”

“It is your privilege to try should you emerge victorious,” Archer conceded. “But if you know yourself to be worthy, why were you more bothered that I _could_ wield Caliburn rather than that I _did_?”

That question actually did pop into Jaune’s head. Every time he’d seen Mordred talk about anything that had been his mother’s, she'd always gotten crazy possessive, claiming that the items were now hers by right as her successor. Her being so calm about Archer being able to recreate her original sword was… really out of character.

Something was wrong.

Mordred’s eyes flared up with fury. “Shut up, Jester! I don’t care that you can make some fake, some mere _imitation_ of father’s greatness! I am his only true heir!”

She whirled around and snatched up Excalibur and Avalon, stomping away into the forest.

Jaune sighed.

“You should go after her,” Blake advised him. “I feel pretty much fine and Oscar is stable. You need to nip this in the bud before it sends her spiraling.”

“You noticed that tendency of hers, did you?” Jaune noted.

“It’d be hard to miss.” Sun remarked.

“You should go.” Archer concurred. “This is an issue she needs to face, but I don’t know if she will emerge better for it alone.”

Jaune raised an eyebrow. “No offense, but since when do you care how she feels?”

“Since Kuroyuri,” he explained. “It took three Servants to drive off this Alter Servant, and we know from Caster that he is not the only Heroic Spirit under Salem’s command. If we’re not united, we stand no chance of stopping her. No one can stand against that kind of power alone.”

Blake looked down, a pensive look on her face. Sun gripped her shoulder comfortingly.

Jaune would have to ask what that was about later. For now, Archer was right.

He had a sister to help.

 

* * *

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****

Watts sighed as he overlooked Lionheart’s office. He knew Mistral was hardly the most strict of the kingdoms when it came to competency, being of the ‘artists’, and Haven by consequence had far more baubles and worthless artifacts within its walls, but could the man at least try and have his own chamber possess some sliver of functionality? Really, with all the shelves stocked with endless hordes of antique storybooks and odd peculiarities, it was more like being in a museum than a place of work.

The Headmaster himself was off at a meeting of the Mistral Council, generously offering to postpone the school year so that Haven’s faculty could be put on active duty for dealing with the Grimm onslaught that had been stirred up across the kingdom after every family on Anima witnessed the horror of the Fall of Beacon. As a consequence, the academy’s students would have no need to be around the institution any time soon. A handy side effect for keeping the brats out of the way of the Queen’s plans.

Leonardo had proven himself quite the asset since he’d barged into the Grimmlands demanding the return of his precious student, the young Spring Maiden. For all his bravado, when the Queen forced him to realize his charge had not been kidnapped, but had abandoned his righteous cause, as well as showed him the full extent of what Ozpin had told him they could defeat, the faunus’ bravery had evaporated into terror. The broken huntsman had begged for some sort of reprieve.

Salem, in her infinite wisdom, granted it to him. So long as he remained loyal.

She granted many former enemies such forgiveness. It was but nineteen years ago that Watts himself had unknowingly competed with the Mother of Grimm in the Fifth Holy Grail War. He’d been desperately seeking recourse after his most trusted colleague betrayed him after his brother had stolen their designs to gain prestige with Nicholas Schnee. He’d been so furious at Geppetto that he’d turned to that which he’d previously dismissed as childish fantasies.

Of course, he hadn’t been able to call them that when Rider had sprung to life in front of him. That didn’t make his job any easier though. Despite his Servant’s power, he constantly refused to go all out against anyone who couldn’t hurt him. What was the point of being nearly invulnerable if you didn’t use it?

In the end, Achilles’ pride had done him in. he’d made himself vulnerable for a ‘fair’ fight and Raven Branwen’s Berserker had killed him. The fool had even had the nerve to die with a smile on his face, content with defeat. With _failure_.

Watts glanced at the single black Command Seal on his right hand and smirked.

At least he could count on Rider Alter avoiding that issue.

The ornate double doors of the office swung open and his compatriots entered.

Emerald and Caster looked the same as they had when he’d last seen them so many months ago. The street rat had put on a bit of muscle since then, but fundamentally, they were the same. Though, they were standing quite a bit closer than before. Perhaps the girl had finally gotten over the loss of Cinder after all?

He had never met the other two who came in, but he knew who they were. The Queen had taken care to fill him in on what had occurred at the castle. Lancer Alter was as intimidating as expected, but it was Ms. Schnee who held his attention.

She was his niece after all.

He could see some of Jacques in her. Her high held chin, her demeaning eyes that seemed to look down on all they beheld. But fortunately, she was mostly Schnee, the family had strong genetics after all. Even under Salem’s thrall, the girl’s hair still shone an unmistakably perfect white that Jacques could never truly match no matter how much he’d powdered his own. All the better, he had no fondness for his brother’s blood, but at least he wouldn’t have to be reminded of the bastard every time he looked at his spawn.

Jacques had been so desperate to join the upper class of Atlas society, but the kingdom’s elites always looked down on a mere security commander of the SDC. While Nicolas Schnee had been friendly with him, Jacques took such kindness and fashioned the Schnee name into its own sort of Holy Grail, something he had to have and make his own. To that end, he’d stolen Watts’ medical designs to endear himself to the family and when Schnee believed his trusted man over the ‘conniving’ scientist, Arthur was disgraced throughout the scientific community, spoken of in the same breath as that madman Merlot.

Only his dear friend and longtime research partner, Geppetto Polendina had believed him, and the pair had set to work on a new project, something that would restore Arthur’s reputation and more: an android that could think for itself, and what’s more, wield aura. To give the power of the soul to an inorganic being would place the duo at the top of the entire scientific community.

But, progress was slow. It was difficult to create accurate data without more invasive experiments. Geppetto attracted what few willing test subjects they had, and he couldn’t convince them to go further as he was soon distracted after his daughter died in some car accident or something. They had to start making strides or what meager funding they had would evaporate.

So, Watts had done what needed to be done.

It wasn’t as if he was a racist. He didn’t want to hurt faunus teenagers specifically, but they were easier to grab off the street than humans. Plus, fewer people cared to look for them.

Some called the experiments he'd performed ghastly and immoral. Watts called it necessary and enlightening. He made more progress in those few months than he and Geppetto had previously, fifty times over. He had been close to actually doing it. Everything Jacques had taken from was going to be returned with interest!

But then, Geppetto had stumbled upon his work. The fool had been horrified, called him a madman. Within an hour, the authorities had arrived, and Watts had been forced to flee. Betrayed once again.

He had been pleasantly surprised when he’d seen Cinder’s scheme tear apart the android bearing his old friend’s name at the Vytal Festival. The hypocrite had likely preserved his data and completed the project himself, with the full approval of the Atlas military no less. He’d been so elated, he’d actually considered thanking Cinder when she got back, which of course, she never did.

Then, he’d had the distinct euphoria of watching his brother’s torture over Seer Grimm. The blustering moron never let his idiotic pride be broken, but his howls of agony under the Seer’s prodding was entertaining enough. Justice was sweet.

Now, the braggart was annihilated. His son was dead, one of his daughters sided against him, and he himself was being shipped off to the White Fang under the watchful eye of Hazel and his Servant. If Watts knew him as well as he knew he did, the fool was probably trying to think up an escape plan. As if he was a match for the Last Hero.

Really, Watts couldn’t be happier. He wasn’t like the late Tyrian. He didn’t need to tear his brother apart with his bare hands. No, just knowing the Queen had delivered the justice she’d promised him was good enough. For that fidelity, she’d earned his.

Besides, he couldn’t deny how fascinating he found her proposed endgame. The scientific implications were simply too radical to be dismissed. Even if he didn’t end up surviving, he just had to see what happened.

But, that was for the future. For the present, he still had children to deal with.

“You’re late.”

Emerald glared at Weiss before looking back to him. “We were delayed. We ran into enemy masters.”

“Wonderful,” Watts muttered sarcastically. “I assume they are now _dead_ enemy masters.”

“Not exactly.”

Watts sighed. “Really children, could you at least pretend to be competent?”

Caster frowned. “There were three of them.”

“An Alter is worth at least two normal Servants.” Watts scolded. “You should have been on even ground. Unless there is something wrong with yours?”

Lancer Alter scowled. “Choose your next words carefully, _doctor_.”

“Enough.” Weiss pronounced. She glared at Watts with her unnatural golden eyes, even now unknowing of who exactly they looked upon. “The Queen ordered us to retreat. So, we retreated.”

“Exactly.” Emerald continued. “And now, we know the identities of three of the other masters, and where they’re going.”

Watts raised an eyebrow. “Well then, do tell.”

“Ruby Rose, Jaune Arc, and Yang Xiao-Long.” Weiss listed bitterly.

“All of them are with Qrow Branwen and are on their way here.” Emerald finished.

Watts smirked. “Splendid.”

Qrow had no way to know Lionheart had turned on him. When he came to the man for information, Leonardo would extract any intelligence he could on the enemy Servants and the hunt for the wayward Spring Maiden. Then, when Hazel arrived from his mission to the White Fang, they could annihilate Ozpin’s little pawns and clear half the competition for the Holy Grail in one fell swoop.

“I don’t suppose you learned anything about the enemy Servants?” Watts inquired.

Weiss huffed. “Saber is as powerful as expected for one of her class, we’ll have to counter with our own. Caster should not be made to face her alone. Archer is wily, but nothing Lancer Alter can’t handle. And Rider, well, we know his True Name.”

“Really?” Watts raised an eyebrow, grudgingly impressed. “How did you manage that?”

“The fool announced it in the middle of the battlefield if you can believe it.” Weiss chuckled, a faint smile on her lips. “It was actually quite amusing. Watching him declare himself ‘Iskandar, King of—”

“ISKANDAR!!!”

The shout rammed through the air and reverberated through Watts’ mind like a cannon shot. The doctor was driven to his knees as his brain recoiled from the howl.

The bookcase that led to the secret passage that held the Seer Grimm Salem gave Lionheart was smashed to smithereens. Weiss and Emerald both staggered away from the ruin as Caster and Lancer Alter came forward.

A shadow emerged from the dust. A titanic man, towering over even Lancer Alter by several feet, stomped out of the cavern. His entire body was a dull black, with strange hieroglyphics painted over his skin in the Queen’s mud. Gold bracers decorated his arms while a similar elaborate belt held up a purple skirt around his waist. He carried a pair of battle-axes in his hands, the strange weapons blazing a lantern of emerald fire behind each of the blades. A horned black crown spewed similar green flames atop his head.

Rider Alter locked onto Weiss and stomped towards her. “Where is he? Where is Iskandar? Where is the King of Conquerors?!?”

Lancer Alter stepped in his path, his crimson spear at the ready. “Take a step back pal. You shouldn’t crowd the lady.”

Rider Alter howled and raised his axes. Lancer readied his spear.

Any second, the two heroes would clash and likely incinerate the building. That was attention they didn’t need.

“Darius!” Watts roared. “Restrain yourself!”

He poured his will into the link forged by the Queen’s gift of a Command Seal. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it for something so insignificant, but Rider possessed low-grade Madness Enchantment, so he might not have a choice.

Fortunately, it seemed the Queen was with him. Rider Alter’s mud tattoos expanded over him for a brief instant and when they retracted, the king reluctantly took a step back from Lancer.

“I must have him.” the madman snarled, his body shaking with fury. “I _will_ have him.”

Watts scoffed as he rose to his feet. He dusted himself off and looked at his Servant with an irritated eyebrow. Darius the Third, as the Queen had informed him, was the last king of an ancient empire called Persia. Apparently, he had fought with all his might to preserve his domain against some upstart who had the gall to invade, yet ultimately was resoundingly defeated, betrayed and murdered by his own governors. The lack of a final battle with his greatest enemy had left a sour taste in his mouth when he’d ascended to the Throne of Heroes.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t throw him any more out of control. Watts did not want a repeat of his last Servant.

Lancer Alter looked back to Weiss who gave him a curt nod. The spearman lowered his weapon. Weiss herself gazed upon Rider Alter with a look of… not revulsion. Realization? As if the Servant’s mad display displeased her, but not because of the act itself.

Whatever. It mattered little.

He looked over the children. “So, I assume we are in agreement to leave this Iskandar to Rider Alter?”

Emerald shrugged.

“I have no desire to deal with that oaf.” Caster declared.

Lancer Alter scrutinized Darius. “If you’ve got some score to settle, I’ll let you have the first shot. But if you lose, he’s mine.”

Rider glared at the spearman, but he nodded his agreement.

Watts nodded. “Excellent. Now, I’m sure you children are tired from your flight. Get settled in and keep out of sight. We lie low and gather information until Hazel arrives. Then, we show this world the might of the Queen.”

 

* * *

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****

Mordred charged through the forest, smashing trees aside with casual ease and disinterest. Her armor clanked along as she stomped through the foliage.

 _‘Who the hell does that Jester think he is?’_ she thought furiously. _‘Obviously, he could only wield Caliburn because it’s a fake. An imitation. Just like him! Just like…’_

Her.

She was a homunculus, created in her father’s image to destroy him. There was a reason Lancer and Rider both confused her for him. Her mother had used magic to manipulate her existence as much as possible, determined to create the ultimate shadow self to bring down the King of Knights.

Mordred had chosen her own path though, the path of an honorable knight, until she’d learned the truth. Then, she’d set upon King Arthur just as Morgan Le Fay had wanted.

She’d wanted to be his son, his heir.

She’d chosen to be his destroyer, his dark reflection.

His imitation.

And that forced her to consider… if Archer, another fake, needed to create a false Caliburn to wield its power…

Would she be able to draw the real one from the stone?

She’d never really thought about what she would do if she won the Grail, went to the Sword of Selection, and was found wanting. After all, she’d never had reason to doubt that she was worthy to be king. She was the successor of the King of Knights!

But why had she wanted to be that? Why had she thrown away the life that had satisfied her, the life of a good and honorable knight, a protector of the innocent, to take up the very same fate her mother had tried to force her into, one she’d once fought with all her power to avoid?

Why had she decided that she would kill any Knights of the Round Table who sided with her father, knights who had once been her friends? After all, she’d known that even if half would side with her, the other half would do their duty and stand by the king. She’d known that at least some of them would die. And yet, she chose to rebel anyway.

What had she decided was so important that she would kill those just and honorable warriors just to see it done?

Was it for the people? Had she sought the salvation of the peasants? No. While many were unhappy with the King of Knights’ rule due to his inhuman disposition, she would have annihilated any of them had they taken up arms against her father. She herself had loved the king’s distinctly unnatural existence. It had been so like her own.

The perfect king that should not have been possible and the artificial child made to destroy him. They were quite the pair.

What was it then? She could not remember. The most she could recall was that it was something about…

The Kingship.

…

Was that it? Was that all she was? Just an arrogant, entitled… usurper, too hungry for the throne as to let anything or anyone she once cared for stand in her way?

Was she no better than the Nuckelavee, doing whatever she’d wanted to get whatever she’d wanted, without a care for who got hurt in the process?

No! No, she was not a monster! She had cared. She’d specifically lured her father out to Camlann to make sure no commoners were caught in the crossfire of the battle, to end it quickly with one of their heads on a pike and one of their armies annihilated.

Armies that had been made up of knights, knights of a divided Round Table, torn between Clarent and Excalibur. Her friends on both sides of the battlefield prepared to die for their banner and their cause. Their cause in a war she’d started.

Perhaps the kindling of rebellion had been stirring for a while, since Lancelot’s affair was exposed or even when Tristan stormed out of Camelot decrying the king’s perfection. But she had chosen to provide the spark, to light the fire that burned Camelot to ash.

She felt she deserved a crown and for it, she’d started a war that slaughtered thousands and destroyed the closest thing to utopia mankind had ever known.

Even if she wasn’t a monster, what kind of knight did that make her?

What kind of hero?

A hero that protected no one? That killed for the sake of power?

Was that really who she was?

She didn’t want to be. But she couldn’t remember anything else.

Her eyes fell to her belt, Avalon and Excalibur strapped to her armor. The Everdistant Utopia and the Sword of Promised Victory, in her possession at last. Her father’s greatest weapons, in the hands of their rightful inheritor. The only worthy inheritor.

But was she?

Ah! This was why she didn’t think about things! All it did was drive her in circles! There was no way to actually answer her questions.

…

Or was there?

A way to prove she had truly surpassed the King of Knights, to prove herself a worthy king and hero all in one go.

And it was right at her side.

Mordred charged into a clearing of trees and drew the Sword of Promised Victory. The greatest of holy swords gleamed beautifully in the starlight, the shine of its wonderous fairy gold forcing back the dark coat of the night.

It was the only way. This was the same blade her father had wielded in life, the gift of the Lady of the Lake. A sword only wieldable by those it deemed worthy, by the truest of heroes.

By her. She knew it. She knew.

She _knew._

She raised the blade high and aimed for the sky. No sense in wiping out the surrounding forest with the blast.

She poured her _prana_ into the sword just as she did with Clarent. The blade did not glow, but she felt the holy blade absorb her magical energy. Everything was ready.

Time to prove herself a hero.

“EXCALIBUR!”


	45. Answers

“EXCALIBUR!”

Mordred screamed the holy sword’s name with all her might, her power surging into it to unleash a blinding blast of golden dreams into the sky.

Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen.

Instead, the blade just swung through the air like any other weapon, no glow, no power. Just steel.

Just nothing.

Mordred stared at the sword in shock and despair. Her face contorted into a feral scowl of animalistic fury. Her grip tightened on the azure hilt.

No. No, that couldn’t be it. She must not have done it right. She made a mistake.

She raised the sword over her head once more, this time taking special care to measure the _prana_ she surged into the weapon.

“EXCALIBUR!”

She brought the blade down once more. Once more, it sliced nothing but air, not a speck of holy light covering its steel.

Mordred’s eyes widened. She forced the Sword of Promised Victory over her head and brought it down again.

“EXCALIBUR!”

And again.

“EXCALIBUR!”

And again.

“EXCALIBUR!”

And again.

“EXCALIBUR! EXCALIBUR! EXCALIBUR!”

In time, the broken fragments of the moon began to resemble tears.

Mordred sank to her knees. The holy sword continued to rise above her head over and over, each time falling only as silver steel. Nothing came of it. No matter what she did, no matter how much _prana_ she poured in or how loudly she chanted, Excalibur did not light, its judgment apparent to all.

Its inescapable verdict on the Knight of Treachery.

“Excalibur! Excalibur. Excalibur. Excalibur. _Excalibur_ …”

The name of the Sword of Promised Victory gurgled in her mouth, choked down by the weight of despair.

Small drops of water fell from Mordred’s bowed head. If anyone asked her about it in the future, she’d say it was sweat.

As it was, she could only sit there, convulsing with each new heave of tears. Her spirit shattered by the judgment of her father’s sword.

She’d known. Perhaps she’d always known and just didn’t want to believe it.

She’d dreamed. She’d dreamed and dreamed until she’d forgotten it was a fantasy. To be the son of the greatest of kings, the greatest of men, she had ever known. His most valiant successor, worthy of his love and respect. But true character is shown when fantasy is denied, and in her darkest hour, she’d shown exactly what she was.

A hollow imitation.

Unworthy.

The incestuous bastard of a witch.

An insolent usurper who’d rather burn the world to the ground if it couldn’t be hers.

No wonder the King of Knights denied her. How could the perfect king have ever allowed a _monster_ to sit the throne after him? She was lucky his mercy extended enough not to have taken her head on the spot.

And she’d repaid that mercy with betrayal. Betrayal and death. Exactly as Morgana had wanted from her faithful homunculus.

Excalibur fell from her grip and Knight of Treachery gave in to despair.

“Mordred?”

Her fists closed at the sound of his voice. The other son. The pretender.

Just like her.

“What do you want, master?” she spat out, trying her best to keep her voice even and her face hidden.

She heard his soft footsteps tread across the grass.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Jaune offered cautiously. “You stormed off after that talk with Archer. Seemed like something was bothering you.”

“It’s nothing,” Mordred growled. “I’m fine, master.”

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine! Can you not hear, pretender?”

For a moment, there was no sound. Then, there was rustling across the grass. Mordred wondered if she’d scared him off.

Instead, he walked in front of her and sat down. His face was not angry like most would be if they had been dismissed as he had. Indeed, the only expression on his face was one of calm understanding and sympathy.

Mordred couldn’t figure out if she wanted to accept it or punch him in the face again.

“I said I’m fine, pretender,” she repeated, this time quietly, barely above a whisper.

“And I told you that I’m not a pretender,” Jaune responded just as softly. “I’m your brother.”

“Then we’re both pretenders,” Mordred muttered. “One a witch’s pawn and the other a fool.”

Jaune grimaced. His glance fluttered to Excalibur. He nodded in understanding.

“It didn’t work for me either,” he informed her. “I know a holy sword must have high standards, but I’m not even sure it’d let Ruby power it up.”

“Only the worthy may wield the Sword of Promised Victory,” Mordred whispered. “In all of history, only the King of Knights and the Magus of the Flowers have ever been judged so. I thought… I thought I’d be the third.”

“But you’re not.”

“No. I’m not. I’m just a monster.”

…

“Bullshit.”

Mordred raised her head and glared at her master. “What did you just say?”

“Bullshit.” Jaune declared once more. “Just because you can’t make some sword glow doesn’t make you a monster.”

“Not just any sword,” Mordred argued. “Father’s sword.”

“Who needs it? You’ve got your own.” Jaune reminded her.

“I stole Clarent!”

“Was anyone else using it?”

“What are you even talking about?” Mordred shouted. She leapt to her feet. “You don’t like me! You’ve never liked me! Both you and father said I’d make a terrible king and you were both right. I started a rebellion. I destroyed Camelot. I chose to annihilate the greatest kingdom the world has ever known because I couldn’t handle not getting to rule it. What does that make me if not a monster?”

“Would a monster have protected Ren and Nora? Would a monster have saved me, someone they despise, over and over?”

“To get the Holy Grail? Yes!”

“Then why did you react with disgust when I told you about Raven’s offer?” Jaune demanded. “Why weren’t you thrilled to have a chance to leave me behind? Why did you take the time to help me learn how to fight, and tell me stories from mom’s time? Why are you actually questioning if what you did was right? Monsters don’t do that. Heroes do!”

Mordred’s tear stained eyes blinked at his words. His faith was… surprising and more gratifying than she would have expected.

Still…

“What kind of hero lusts for power?”

“The one that wants the power to help people!” Jaune proclaimed. “Look, I’m not going to say what you did was _right_ , but you didn’t do it so you could ‘take over the world’ or whatever.”

“How do you know that?” she whispered brokenly. “I can’t even remember why I did it.”

“I saw your memories, remember? I lived them. I felt your emotions. I don’t know what you were after, but I know it wasn’t power for power’s sake.” he reasoned. “You wanted to be able to help someone, and in trying to get the power to do that, you made a horrible choice. I did the same thing.”

Mordred cocked an eyebrow. “Really? You?”

“You think you’re the only one mom’s ever been disappointed in?” Jaune joked. “She wouldn’t let me train to be a huntsman, so I forged some transcripts and snuck my way into Beacon.”

“Well, aren’t you a diabolical mastermind?” Mordred chuckled. “Bet father kicked your ass when he tracked you down.”

“Oh, she was thrilled. Kicked me, Blake, Ren, and Ruby around the arena for a bit before I finally convinced her to let me stay.”

Jaune frowned. “Of course, then the Fall happened and… well… you know what happened there.”

Mordred joined him in his grief. “Father died.”

“I got her killed.” Jaune corrected glumly. “Even if it wasn’t my fault, she wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t run off to Beacon in the first place. All my dreams of living up to the Arc name, of never being pathetic again, of being a hero, they all blew up in my face and hurt people I loved.”

“Seems to be a pattern with us,” Mordred noted. “Selfish fools with selfish goals bringing down true heroes. Aren’t we a pair, the imitation and the forger.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Like it or not, we’re here. This is our fight.” Jaune declared. “We can’t sit back. We have to stop Salem and Kirei and Gilgamesh. Because Ruby and the others can’t do it alone. Us fake heroes have to do our part. And who knows, maybe by protecting them, we’ll become the real ones we actually wanted to be.”

“The sword is strongest as a shield.” Mordred chuckled.

It was ridiculous. Here she was, one of the most infamous heroes in the Throne, broken by her own despair, _admitting_ to her own sin, and yet this idiot still wanted to work with her. To give her a chance to be better. He really was a complete fool.

And yet… she couldn’t help but be grateful.

A loud grin spread across Mordred’s tear-stained face. “Master, you might just be insane. I like it.”

Jaune chuckled. “Really? Ooo, maybe I should have Ren take over then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you’re handing me over to anyone, it’s going to be Lady Nora, not the paramour.”

“You noticed that too?”

“Hard not to.”

“True,” Jaune smirked. “Still, I don’t think it’s such a great idea to make Nora your master. The two of you together? I don’t think Remnant would survive.”

“Hey, Salem can’t destroy it if we break it first.” Mordred shrugged gleefully. “But, if you insist, I suppose you’ll do, master.”

“I’m glad,” Jaune replied earnestly, a warm light shining from his smile. “Now come on. Oscar isn’t going to heal himself.”

“Right.”

Jaune walked past her while Mordred kneeled down and retrieved Excalibur.

She gazed at the magnificent holy sword for a moment. It was as beautiful as the greatest artist’s finest masterpiece, a weapon of ethereal essence and beauty. An existence as pure as the dream it defended.

It was the blade of the King of Knights.

And that wasn’t her. Perhaps it never would be.

And that was… alright?

Was it? Putting aside if she was worthy of ascending to the post, she was King Arthur’s firstborn child. It was her duty to one day take his place.

Could she let that go? Could she be satisfied with the station of a mere knight as she once was? Could she forsake the destiny of Arthur’s son, Morgana’s pawn?

Could she just… be Mordred?

Could she forge her own destiny?

It was an interesting thought.

One she wouldn’t have had the luxury to conceive without her master’s help.

“Jaune,” she called, speaking his name for the first time. She heard him halt behind her.

“Yeah?”

She stood up and sheathed Excalibur within Avalon. She turned to face him, a soft smile on her face.

“Thank you.”

Jaune blinked a dozen times over, his mind barely able to process the words of gratitude she’d spoken. After it did, however, an incorrigible grin spread across his mouth. “You’re welcome. Besides, what’s a little brother for if not helping out his big sister?”

Mordred’s smile disappeared. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “ _Sister_?”

“Brother! I meant brother!”

“Much better.”

 

* * *

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****

Yang trudged back to the clearing, tear strains drying under her eyes.

Ruby had agreed to give her some alone time, but honestly, Yang had had enough of being alone. She just wasn’t sure how to act around this new Ruby. A Ruby who was willing to sacrifice their father to destroy the Grimm.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew that on paper, that was easily the choice they _should_ make. Hell, if he had a say, Dad would probably order her to do it himself.

But she’d had enough of losing. She’d lost Summer, she’d basically lost Raven, they didn’t know how they were getting Weiss back… she refused to lose her father too. He’d never given up on her and she wouldn’t give up on him.

So to hear Ruby, her stalwart, brave, implacable little sister, the girl who wanted to give everyone a happy ending, say that they might have to? It was more of a shock than she’d been prepared for. She needed help to get her head on straight.

Besides, she needed to check on her partner anyway.

Blake was just rising to her feet when she arrived in the clearing, Sun waiting nearby to offer a hand if he was needed. Ruby’s Servant, Archer stood a bit farther off. He caught sight of Yang approaching, and the murderous glare she was shooting him (try and murder _her_ baby sister…), and he promptly departed in a shower of blue sparks.

Yang snorted. She’d promised Ruby she’d tolerate him for now, but that didn’t mean she had to like him, even if he was Summer’s alternate timeline… whatever.

Oh, forget it. She had someone she actually liked she had to talk to.

Sun saw her coming before Blake did. With a cheeky grin, he lassoed Blake with his tail and whirled her towards Yang. The cat faunus’ eyes widened in shock.

Yang chuckled. She flashed a wink Sun’s way. “Nice wingman-ing, monkey boy.”

Sun shrugged as Blake blushed. “I do what I can. Which reminds me, I should go check on Jaune, make sure Mordred hasn’t killed him and all. You two should talk.”

Blake gaped open mouthed as the blonde rushed off into the forest and abandoned her to her partner. Eventually, she turned towards her partner with a bashful and conflicted expression.

Yang thought it was adorable. Blake was an enigma that way. She tried so hard to be some brooding, reclusive ex-terrorist, but sometimes she just couldn’t help the slips of the smut addicted bookworm underneath.

Of course, there was some truth to the brooding part, even if that was more a symptom of the actual personality. Blake, despite her knowledge of the world’s hardships, was an idealist at heart. Not in the optimistic sense like Ruby had once been, but in dedication to her ideals. When she believed in something, she believed hard. There was a reason it took her so long to leave the White Fang, and even afterward, she jumped straight into being a huntress, desperate to do something to bring about her dream of faunus equality.

Her drive had been the catalyst that had drawn their team into the conflict with Torchwick and his masters, even if they’d had no idea about the latter until it was too late.

Speaking of…

“Thank you.” Yang proclaimed immediately, a wide smile on her face.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “For what? I… I left you in Patch. Ruby and Jaune had to go, but I could have stayed. I could have been there to help when Kirei showed up—”

“And then he might have put you in the hospital too.” Yang pointed out. “Blake, I don’t blame you for going with Ruby. You saw a chance to save the world and you took it. That’s who you are. And I get that sometimes… sometimes that means you’ll have to leave me behind. But that doesn’t mean that you’re not with me. Or that I’m not with you.”

Blake smiled softly. “Oh. Okay. Didn’t expect that.”

Yang shrugged. “Well, that and I do kind of owe you for getting me out of Beacon alive. I’d be kind of a jerk partner if I didn’t cut you some slack after that.”

“Of course.” Blake snarked, her eyes rolling playfully. It lasted a whole two seconds before her face descended into a frown. “Though, I can’t claim all the credit for getting you out of there. Mercury had us both dead to rights before Adam showed up.”

Ah yes. The ex-boyfriend.

Who was apparently her mom’s ex-apprentice?

What were the odds.

“Based on what you guys said about Oniyuri, he’s got a habit of pulling last-minute rescues for us,” Yang noted.

Blake scoffed. “Yeah, and then turning around and demanding we join him right after. Still, with Lancer Alter, and what Salem’s done to Weiss…”

“What are you thinking, Blakey?”

“It’s stupid. Something Sun mentioned on the road.” Blake dismissed.

“I was asleep for a while. I’m behind on my stupid plan quota.” Yang teased. “Lay it on me.”

Blake gulped. “Alright, if you’re sure. I think… I think we should try to get Adam on our side.”

“Huh?” Yang cocked an eyebrow. “Weren’t you just saying that you don’t want to join him?”

“I don’t.” Blake professed. “Whatever mask he’s putting on to try to get me to think he’s back to fighting for equality, real equality, I know deep down he’d like nothing more than to wipe every human off the face of Remnant. The man who was my friend… he’s gone. He has been for a while.”

“And this is a guy you want us to work with?” Yang asked hesitantly.

“Considering all our other enemies? Yes.”, Blake confirmed. “Adam is a lot of things, but if we can convince him that the threat of Salem is real, I think he’ll join us. The faunus can’t exactly rule Remnant if the Grimm burn it to the ground.”

“True,” Yang muttered. “But what if… what if there was another way?”

“Another way to what?”

Yang gulped. “Kill Salem.”

Blake frowned, but there was sympathy in her amber eyes. “Yang, I know you want to save your dad, but—”

“But what, Blake? I have to let him die? Could you do that if it was your dad on death row?”

The cat faunus glanced to the side. “My relationship with my dad is… complicated, right now. Still, I get where you’re coming from. But he’ll die anyway if Salem wins. If you let your love for him doom the world, you’re just being selfish.”

Yang sighed and backed up into a tree trunk. “I know. I know it’s selfish. But after everything we’ve all been through, don’t we deserve a little selfishness?”

“It’s not about what we deserve, Yang. People rarely get what they deserve.” Blake replied. “In the end, if we don’t make the necessary sacrifices, no one else is going to get that choice.”

Yang groaned. “When did saving the people we love become the wrong choice?”

Blake came forward and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Yang. We have to kill Salem.”

“Ozpin’s been fighting her for ages. The world’s still here.”

Blake frowned. “This is different. There’s a tension in the air. I know you can feel it. This war, it’s a flashpoint, a moment where the scales can tip and the world will either rise or fall. If we lose here, it’s the end. We have to kill Salem now, and the Grail is the only thing that can do that.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

Both Yang and Blake jumped in shock at the new voice, whirling around to come face to face with a familiar redhead.

“Since when can you sneak up on people?” Yang asked exasperatedly.

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, girl? I’ve been standing right here the entire time.”

“How? You don’t even know what the word ‘quiet’ means?”

“Yes, I do. Aristotle was good for some things—”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Blake cut in. “Go back. What do you mean the Grail isn’t the only thing that can destroy Salem? Ozpin said nothing else could.”

“He said nothing within his grasp.” Iskandar corrected. “Which is not incorrect. As far as I understand, killing this ‘Salem’ character requires first destroying her Reality Marble and then finishing her before she can regenerate it. The grail could do both at the same time, but two shots from an Anti-World Noble Phantasm could do the job just the same.”

Yang’s heart soared. If what Iskandar was saying was true, then they could use one of these Noble Phantasms to wipe out Salem and then she could use the grail to save her dad. It was perfect! The other way Ruby was talking about!

Blake scratched her chin in contemplation. “This Anti-World Noble Phantasm, do you have one?”

Iskandar shook his head. “No, unfortunately.  I am only aware of one weapon of that caliber. Though, I do believe it’s in play.”

“Great!” Yang cheered. “Who has it?”

“The King of Heroes.”

Yang’s smile disappeared. “The King of Heroes? You mean…”

“Gilgamesh.” Blake finished.

“He is the oldest hero of mankind. As such, he is perhaps the most powerful of us all.” Iskandar explained. “This drill thingy he has, his Sword of Rupture, is a special weapon that only he can use. It can destroy a Reality Marble. I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

Yang leaned back into a tree trunk and chuckled bitterly. “So, not only is the only substitute for the grail in the hands of Kirei’s boss, and impossible for us to use, but he can wipe out the planet anytime he feels like it. Just great.”

“I agree, it is not an ideal scenario.” Iskandar relented. “Still, it is a curious one. The last time I heard goldie talk about the Grail, he considered it just another treasure he had to hoard. He had no interest in the wish. Why would he go to such lengths to start not one, but two Holy Grail Wars?”

“What does it matter?” Yang whined. “We’re right back where we started.”

“Not necessarily,” Iskandar informed her. “Goldie, for all that he is, is usually reasonable enough about his vassals.”

Blake’s eyes widened in shock. “You think we should serve him?”

“Of course not.” Iskandar declared loudly. “I would never lower myself under another king, even him. Besides, he’d never let me hear the end of it if I did. All I’m saying is that the option is there if another solution cannot be found.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed. “Let my dad die, or work for the guy who killed my stepmom and whose lackey is the reason my dad needs saving in the first place. Aren’t those a pair of dandy choices.”

“Neither is ideal.” Iskandar conceded. “But master, in war, you will have to do things you don’t want to do in order to reach your goals. Sometimes, all we can do is choose the burden less painful to bear. Whether conquering the world or saving a loved one, selfishness always has a price.”

Yang frowned. She wasn’t afraid of carrying a burden, but working for Gilgamesh? For the one in infinity chance that he _might_ be willing to help her? That just wasn’t an option she was willing to accept.

But she also wasn’t willing to accept letting her dad die.

So, that left her with two choices. Either find a third option…

Or pick her poison.

 

* * *

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****

Ruby sat in the rubble of Kuroyuri, the ruins of the courtyard’s cobblestone strewn across the square. The Nuckelavee was gone, but Ren and Nora’ old home was still just a ruin. A remnant of the wondrous place it once was.

Would that be the case with the entire world if they beat Salem? Would Remnant ever be the world it once was?

She held an Origin Round in her fingers, the same type of bullet Kirei had used to cripple her father. A magic based on her grandfather’s origin, cutting and tying. The former tore the enemy apart and the latter ensured that the damage could never be repaired.

Was there a way to properly tie everything back together again? To heal what was broken instead of trapping it in agony?

Was there a way to save her father without dooming humanity?

Would her answer be enough?

She felt a familiar presence appear beside her. A quick glance revealed Archer emerging from spirit form.

She held up the Origin Round for him to see. “We found eight of these in mom’s stash at the cabin. Assuming Kirei got the same amount from the house, that leaves him with six, since one got dad and Iskandar blocked another.”

“And you with seven,” Archer remarked. “Since you attempted to use one on Lancer Alter’s master.”

“Yup,” Ruby replied bitterly. “I tried to murder my best friend to save another friend.”

“You made the best choice you could.” Archer comforted. “One cannot save one life without taking another.”

Ruby accepted the intent behind the words, even if she thought she’d found her solution around it.

She twirled the bullet in her fingers. “Why didn’t it work on Weiss? I’m glad it didn’t, but after what Kirei did to dad…”

Archer sighed. “The Origin Rounds are powerful, but they are only one half of Kiritsugu Emiya’s ultimate mystic code. There is a reason he only ever fired them from his Contender and not a sniper rifle. Among its many mystical enhancements, that gun has been modified with a specialized firing pin. As it ignites the gunpowder to fire the shot, it also primes the origin within the bullet for actualization. Without it, they are just regular ammunition.”

“I see,” Ruby responded softly. She smirked up at her Servant. “So when you were trying to goad me into firing one into Unlimited Bladeworks…”

“I was in no real danger,” Archer confirmed. “I apologize for the deception, but like much of what happened then, I wanted to see what you would do. After you refused to use it on me, who was actively trying to kill you, I figured you wouldn’t ever fire them. My apologies for the miscalculation.”

Ruby sighed. “It’s fine.” She returned the Origin Round in her hand to the others on her bandolier. Just more ammunition.

Until Kirei got his hands on them.

“Archer, your Reality Marble can modify weapons, right?”

The red-clad Servant cocked an eyebrow. “It can, master. What do you do have in mind?”

Ruby gazed at the destruction around her. The annihilation that would spread across the entire world if they failed.

They couldn’t fail.

“Can you modify Crescent Rose’s firing pin so that it can activate Origin Rounds?”

Archer frowned. “I thought you were relived your attack didn’t work.”

“I am,” Ruby assured him. “But with the enemies we’re up against, we need every trick we can get, no matter how much I might not like it. The attack did save Blake after all.”

“Fair enough.” Archer nodded, a hint of pride on his face. “Unfortunately, though I have seen the Contender in my time, replicating guns wholesale is outside the capability of my Reality Marble. In theory, I could create each individual piece one by one and then put them together by hand, but that requires a level of comprehension of a firearm’s inner workings that I simply do not possess.”

Ruby smiled. “So, you’re saying that if you learned more about how a gun works, you could make some of the pieces.”

“… Yes?”

“Then you’re in luck.” Ruby declared. “Because I know more about guns than almost anyone on Remnant. A few crash courses with me, and you’ll be able to make a hundred magic firing pins.”

Archer sighed. “Joy.”

Ruby chuckled at his reluctance. Sure, there was more than a bit of disbelief in his voice at her plan, but she was confident that they could do it together.

She rose to her feet and dusted off her combat skirt. “Come on. Haven’s only a hop and a skip away. With Rider’s chariot, we can all be there before dawn.”

She started walking away, but Archer did not follow.

“Master,” he called. They both turned to face each other. “Forgive me, for asking, but your sister’s outburst gave me pause. Do you still plan on using the grail to destroy Salem? Or will you use it to save your father?”

Ruby sighed. “Salem. I want to save my dad. I’d give anything to be able to save him. But I can’t give up everyone else’s futures. I’m a huntress. It’s my job to make sure people have the chance to live their lives, wherever that takes them. That means I have to stop Salem.”

Archer nodded. He closed his eyes and contemplated something.

“What if there was a way to do both?” he asked.

“Both?” Ruby’s eyes widened in disbelief. “If there was a way to do both, I’d take it in a heartbeat. Do you have an idea?”

Archer shrugged. “A possible strategy. The Grail grants a wish to both the winning master _and_ Servant.”

“Master and Servant?” Ruby whispered. Her eyes shot open in realization. “Wait. You mean—”

“I told you before, there is nothing the grail can give me that I want.” Archer reminded. “As such, it is no loss to me to save your— _oof!_ ”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Ruby had sped over to him with her semblance and engulfed him in a massive hug, her silver eyes buried in his armor.

“Thank you,” she whispered reverently, tears dripping down her face. “Thank you, Uncle Shirou.”

For several seconds, he did nothing, too shocked by her contact to make one of his usual quips. Ruby wondered just how long it had been since he’d been hugged, or had any friendly physical contact in general.

Eventually, he brought an arm up and patted her on the head. “You’re welcome, mas—Ruby. You’re welcome, Ruby.”

They stayed like that for a bit, niece and uncle, united across time and space against all odds.

A pair of heroes.

Ruby smiled. “By the way, I found the answer.”

“To what?”

“The way to save people. Without having to kill someone else.”

Archer chuckled, his disbelief plain to hear. “Really? Do tell.”

“When you were facing Lancer Alter, you said you couldn’t beat his Noble Phantasm alone. So you asked for my help.” Ruby explained. “I gave up a Command Seal and we were able to save everyone.”

“I don’t follow, master.”

It was Ruby’s turn to chuckle. “I figured you wouldn’t. But think of it this way, if the way you know is you taking one life to save one life, this way is taking a bit of someone’s life, you know, beating them up and all, while giving up a piece of yourself to fill in the rest. Just like I used the Command Seal to give us the boost we needed.”

Archer frowned. “Your logic is flawed, master. If you continuously give up pieces of yourself, you’ll eventually fall to nothingness. Even after your Command Seal, Cu Chulainn would have killed us all.”

“He would have.” Ruby conceded. “But he didn’t. Because of Yang and Rider and Jaune and Mordred. We saved who we could, and they saved us. We will be weakened if we give up pieces of ourselves, but we can heal in time and our friends will help us keep going. They’ll support us, so we can all save as many people as we can.”

Ruby turned her head up and looked Archer in the eyes. “Arturia couldn’t stay with you after your war. You tried to save everyone by yourself, to carry the weight of the world alone. But no one should have to do that. And now, you won’t have to. I’m here. And you’re not alone anymore.”

Archer stared into her eyes, whatever pain he must have been feeling obviously not enough to avert his gaze. His steel eyes locked onto her, their very depths lost with despair and ruin.

But deep within, Ruby saw it. It was feeble, barely a faint ember against the crushing darkness. But it was there.

Hope.

Archer removed his arms from around her. “That is… an interesting theory, master. But, what if the time comes when your friends can’t support you? What happens when you give everything and you can’t save anyone? And no one can save you?”

Ruby’s smile waned slightly, but it did not die. “I’ll trust that I’ve given them enough to help them. And I’ll believe that they can do the right thing, that they can save themselves.”

“That’s quite a bit of faith to put in events you won’t have any control over.” Archer challenged.

Ruby shrugged. “I have faith in people. That’s all.”

A smirk tinged Archer’s lip. “How childishly simple.”

Ruby grinned. That seemed to be what a lot of people thought of her. A child. A simple soul with childish dreams of happy endings. It’d stung when Weiss had used it as an insult, but now… now Ruby didn’t mind.

After all, who didn’t want a happy ending?

 “Come on, you big lug. Haven isn’t going to save itself.”

 

* * *

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****

Kirei smirked as he watched the sunset over Mistral.

He could feel her. He didn’t know how, it might have been some sixth sense or maybe a wistful hope, but he could feel her. She was here.

Ruby had arrived in Mistral.

And if her sister and Jaune Arc were with her, that brought the total of masters in the city up to four. And that was only the ones he knew of.

A battle was on the horizon. He didn’t know when it would come, or what would spark it, but it was coming. The factions would clash, and it was impossible to know who would come out the victor.

He couldn’t wait.

He reclined in his chair on the roof of the grand house Gilgamesh had rented, a glass of the king’s prized Mistralian Red in his hand. The golden king himself was off at a restaurant he’d taken to frequenting since their arrival, something about one of the waitress’ catching his attention. Kirei had gotten a look at her and admitted there was some resemblance to Saber, but he doubted it went any further than coincidental cosmetics. Still, since the King of Heroes was far easier to deal with when he was entertained and distracted, the priest saw no reason to intervene.

Besides, it wasn’t if he was without company.

He poured another glass of wine and set it across his patio table. “Come now, Kiritsugu. Take a seat.”

Assassin made no move to accept his offer, instead continuing to glare daggers at him. Honestly, they had been charming when he was first summoned, but they had begun to become tiresome after a while, the rage within them becoming stale like month old tofu.

Of course, then the events surrounding Rider’s arrival occurred and a new inferno of hatred had ignited behind those dark eyes.

Kirei found it delectable.

“You shouldn’t let the wine go to waste.” he prodded his Servant. “Even Gilgamesh finds it enjoyable, and though he is far more lenient with this world than our own, drink is not a subject he accepts weakness in.”

Again, no response. Just rage and wrath.

Kirei wanted more.

“Your granddaughter should be arriving in this city,” he informed Kiritsugu. “Summer’s daughter, Ruby Rose. They look almost exactly alike. Though, Ruby was still evolving the last time I saw her. She has the potential to be as magnificent as you, perhaps even more so. I can’t wait to see just how this war has advanced her.”

Assassin’s eyes narrowed. His hands clenched into fists.

Kirei just kept smirking. “Summer however, she was absolutely stunning. I regret I only knew her in her final days. When I finally tracked her down, she gave me the best fight I’d had since our final duel in the Fourth War. Even with my semblance making me aware of the difference between her and her blade clones, I dare say she had me dead to rights before Gilgamesh arrived. And even then, she had the audacity to use her semblance to turn one of the swords from the Gate of Babylon into a copy and order it to end her.”

That had been an interesting day. Summer had been pinned to the ground by four swords from Gilgamesh’s treasury, the King himself over her demanding the location of his stolen property, and yet, the huntress had only smiled before firing off a burst from her silver eyes.

Unlike her daughter’s, her attack wasn’t strong enough to penetrate Gilgamesh’s armor, but it did distract him enough for her to transform one of the Gate’s swords and order the resulting clone to silence her.

He’d heard her final whisper.

_“I believe in you, Ruby. Thus, kindly I scatter.”_

Gilgamesh had fired reflexively, refusing to let his captive die by any hand but his own. It was only after he’d realized they’d lost their last lead. They’d attempted to interrogate the surviving clone, but though the low-level Noble Phantasm’s innate power enabled it to survive past the end of Summer, and by consequence her semblance, it was only sufficient for a few months. And even a clone of the silver-eyed warrior could not be conquered in so little time.

Thus, she eventually expired, and Gilgamesh declared they would start another Holy Grail War and have the chalice bring him what was his.

Kirei glanced at Kiritsugu. “You trained your daughter well. She died a hero.”

Assassin’s hand darted to his belt and snatched up one of his many daggers. He raised his arm to throw the knife, but his arm refused to come down.

Kirei relished every second.

Still, with the other masters arriving in the city, it was about time for him to begin seeing if his contacts in the Mistral underworld had spotted anything of use. It was unlikely, but one had to be thorough in a Grail War.

Assassin sheathed the dagger back to his belt.

Kirei nodded and rose from his chair. He set down his finished wine glass and walked away.

“Why?”

The priest raised an eyebrow at his Servant’s question. His old enemy had practically refused to speak to him save when he was begging for the Xiao-Longs’ lives.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?” Kiritsugu demanded with a hard stare. “Why side with Gilgamesh? Why kill all these innocent people? Why seek the grail?”

Kirei gaped at his nemesis. “You mean you don’t know?”

Kiritsugu growled. “I’ve known you over countless lifetimes. I’ve seen almost every defining choice you’ve ever made. But it never makes any sense. You’re like me, a ruthless mage killer. But you have no motive, no passion. I just can’t understand you.”

Kirei was silent for a moment. Then he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Kiritsugu growled.

“Hahaha! Oh, nothing” Kirei remarked. “This is just such an ironic reversal, I can’t help but find amusement in God’s turnabout.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kirei settled down and smirked at his Servant. “I asked similar questions of you during the Fourth War. Back then, I was lost, confounded by my own nature. In you, I saw a parallel, a mirror image that had yet found more completion than I had ever managed, or so I surmised from your alliance with the Einzberns. From you, I sought to divine an answer to my own strife. And though Gilgamesh later helped me come to terms with my own nature, I still found myself fascinated by you. How you could be like me, and yet have people willing to die for you, who did die for you?”

Kiritsugu’s brow furrowed, undoubtedly furious with the memory of his women being dragged up.

“Eventually, I asked your homunculus outright,” Kirei revealed. “And she told of your dream: humanity’s salvation. What nonsense. And yet, eventually I found your childish wistfulness enticing. You were such an odd fusion of idealistic naiveté and ruthless tactics. I couldn’t help but want to bring down a man so desperately striving for such a noble, impossible goal.”

“And what of your goal?” Kiritsugu demanded. “What is all this about, Kirei Kotomine?”

Kirei took a moment to savor the bitter snarl of his name on his enemy’s voice before he responded.

“My goal, Kiritsugu Emiya, is joy.”

“ _Joy_?” Assassin spat in disbelief. “You brought about all this suffering, untold pain and destruction, simply for your own joy?”

Kirei shrugged. “It’s evil, I know. But the tragedy of others is the only thing that’s ever brought me real pleasure. It simply took Gilgamesh’s prodding and the fire from our arrival in this world for me to realize it. Though, I found the corruption’s revelation to be… somewhat lacking.”

“What? Was the fire not enough death for you?”

“No. It was quite enjoyable.” Kirei shook his head. “Merely unfulfilling. I know the answer to my question, but I do not know how the conclusion was reached. The solution was just handed to me. Since then, no matter how great my joy, there is always a hollow splinter at the root of it that prevents me from ever knowing true satisfaction, the peace I felt at the brightest moment of my life: my duel with you.”

Kiritsugu cocked an eyebrow. “So why didn’t you attack me during the fire?”

Kirei scowled. “When I saw you there, you were a shambling mess, desperately clawing through the rubble for survivors. You were broken, but not at my hand. It infuriated me to see you so shattered at another’s manipulation. There was no joy to be found in finishing what was left of you.”

Kiritsugu smiled smugly. “But I rebuilt. I found Summer and I survived. You should have killed me then.”

“Killed you then?”

Kirei’s smirk returned with a vengeance. “I wouldn’t dream of it! Have you not been listening? Your line has become the greatest boon I’ve known in this world or our old one!”

“Our old one?” Kiritsugu muttered confusedly.

Kirei was so entranced that he barely registered the man’s whisper. The priest whirled around and gazed at the sky, just as the sun descended and night conquered all of Mistral.

He opened his arms in jubilation. “Ruby Rose! Kiritsugu Emiya! I have both of you in my grasp! Heroes of Justice determined to save the day! I salute your naiveté and your drive!”

His mouth opened so wide, the light from his devilish smile could challenge the shattered moon.

“I can’t wait to see you fall!”


	46. The Raven's Fall

_Raven didn’t know how it’d all gone so wrong._

_Lancelot had won, he’d defeated Rider inside his own Noble Phantasm. They had regrouped with Qrow and Tai. Even when Salem had barred their path and summoned black mud pillars the size of skyscrapers, Summer and Lancer had arrived just in time to force her off with a combination of fire and a strange silver glow._

_Now all that was left was to claim the grail. Berserker and Lancer were the only Servants left, which meant they just needed to decide amongst themselves which one would give up their wish (probably Lancer, she wasn’t even sure the pale man had one to begin with). And with Ruler and Nicholas Schnee already way ahead of them, Salem and the Grimm would be gone by morning._

_But then he had appeared._

_Lancer and Berserker had instantly been on guard when a shimmering golden portal had materialized in front of their party. A man with spiky blonde hair, radiant golden armor, and eyes as red as Raven’s own stepped out of the mystical gateway. A vicious smirk covered his face._

_His presence was… imperial. Like Lancer, there was a subtle glow to his body, pushing back the black miasma of the Grimmlands. Unlike the Servant of the Spear, whose aura was both potent and relaxing, the being before them pulled all attention and terror towards him, not demanding respect but knowing it was already his._

_Raven had spent a lot of time among ruthless murderers. Until she and Qrow went to Beacon, she’d lived in a world of predators and prey, kill or be killed._

_The man before her was not an alpha. He was an apex, assured in the truth that none could challenge him._

_Berserker made to charge, but Lancer held out his spear before the Black Knight._

_“Stay back.” the Servant ordered, “This foe is beyond you. You need to get to the grail. I will do my best to defeat him.”_

_Raven’s eyes widened. Ozpin had done his best to apprise them of their Servants capabilities once they’d been summoned. Qrow’s Archer, some thief named Robin Hood, was skilled and stealthy, but far from impressive among Heroic Spirits. It was saddening, but not overly surprising, when he’d fallen to Saber. Lancelot’s abilities had been unknown to the group due to Knight of Owner obscuring his abilities from outside viewers, but he’d quickly proven himself competent when he’d kept up with both Saber and the Rider who had arrived to battle him._

_But Summer’s Servant, Lancer, was on a whole other level. Ozpin had only awe to be in the man’s presence._

_Karna, a demigod warrior of the sun who was ancient before the world was Remnant._

_His skin was as pale as the whitest chalk, his sunken eyes beguiling apt attentiveness and a quick wit. His limbs were thinner than one would expect from one of his bountiful strength and his speed was incredible. He possessed golden armor, apparently made from actual sunlight, that seemed to be melted into his body, though if it was, he showed no sign of the undoubtedly immense pain. Though, he was pretty nonchalant about most things, taking every setback or eccentric quirk of his master’s in stride, often without blinking an eye. Though given his power, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t just smash through whatever got in his way. Hell, the only reason he didn’t kill Salem himself was that he couldn’t defeat the Grimmlands’ nature as a Reality Marble._

_Which made it especially concerning that he claimed he would ‘do his best’ to defeat their new foe. As if he wasn’t certain of his victory._

_What could be powerful enough to challenge the Hero of Charity?_

_Nevertheless, Raven and the others didn’t stay to find out. Summer had given Lancer what Command Seals she had left so he could fight at his full power despite his absolutely staggering magical energy requirements, and Team STRQ had rushed off to get the grail as Lancer and the mysterious new Heroic Spirit stared each other down. Once they were a safe distance away, Summer had stayed back to provide her Servant with whatever support she could._

_They were so close. The grail was within their grasp._

_But when they’d arrived at the canyon, a pillar of majestic light and fire erupted into the sky from where the chalice had been said to be._

_“No,” Raven muttered. “No, Ruler, you didn’t.”_

_The Ruler, the girl named Jeanne D’Arc had initially been reluctant to assist them in winning the grail, claiming she had to remain neutral, despite having been summoned irregularly through Command Seals given to Nicholas Schnee. Fortunately, Ozpin and Summer had taken a trip to Atlas to convince her otherwise and once the unadulterated evil of the Grimm was explained to her as the likely cause of her summoning, Jeanne had agreed to help._

_But when they’d learned the Lesser Grail was in the Grimmlands, she had warned Team STRQ that if it looked like they would fail, that the chalice would fall into Salem’s hands, she would not hesitate to use her Noble Phantasm, La Pucelle, to annihilate the holy vessel._

_They were so close, yet Raven knew the Saint had been true to her word._

_When they’d entered the pass, they’d found the proof, a charred clearing and a bloodied Hazel Rainart standing over the crumpled corpse of Nicholas Schnee._

_Berserker had charged the servant of Salem, but the large man had simply held out his hand. All of a sudden, gravity turned against Lancelot, slamming the black knight into the rocky canyon floor and sending terrifying cracks across the stone. Even as the mad Servant howled in animalistic fury, he could barely rise a few inches from the ground._

_Raven and Qrow went for their weapons while Tai pulled out a dust crystal and raised his fist._

_Hazel had held up an open palm, the many wounds over his body rapidly closing as if they were never even there._

_“Don’t,” he advised them. “The Grail is gone. The war is over. There is no reason for anyone else to die today.”_

_Qrow narrowed his eyes. “You really expect us to believe that?”_

_“If you do, you have my word the Queen will let you leave this land alive and unharmed,” Hazel promised. He inclined his head towards Nick Schnee’s body. “This man was an honorable warrior and a worthy opponent. He deserves to be buried by his family.”_

_Raven scowled, but they really didn’t have anything left to gain by fighting him, save vengeance. But she wasn’t so determined to get justice for the Schnee patriarch that she’d risk her family against someone with a Semblance capable of paralyzing a Servant._

_She’d reined in Berserker and Tai and Qrow had taken the Schnee’s body. Surprising, Hazel had been true to his word, as they were not accosted by any of the many Grimm across the desolate land._

_Of course, that might have been because they were all running in the other direction._

_If the Grimmlands were hell, then the sight before Raven was Judgement Day._

_The blood red sky was gone, replaced by a ceiling of golden portals. Each gateway rained down a tempest of weaponry; shining swords, spears, and axes blasting out faster than a machine gun, a maelstrom of divine wrath and steel. When each blade struck the ground, it exploded in a fireball the size of a small bullhead, obliterating any black rock unfortunate enough to be caught in its path._

_However, the blinding arsenal could not strike its true target. Between the flickers of lethal gold, a splash of red could just barely be seen, darting amidst the heavenly hail. Karna swam through the bombardment with the ease of a Mistralian ballet dancer, his mighty lance flicking out to incinerate any nearby projectile in a literal blaze of glory. The Servant dashed all about the battlefield, but it was clear he was trying to make it to the top of a nearby hill, where the blonde man in golden armor overlooked the firestorm._

_Karna’s eyes narrowed. The tip of his spear ignited._

_“ **Brahmastra Kundala!** ”_

_A second sun erupted in the sky and the rain golden death evaporated into nothingness._

_Even as far away as she was, Raven could feel the hellish heat and gale force wind. The only reason she and the others weren’t blown away was Berserker having the foresight to shield them from the worst of it. She quickly unstrapped her scabbard and tossed it aside just as the fire dust inside blew the whole thing to pieces. Normally, dust could only be activated by aura. The fact that there was enough prana in the air to substitute only served to emphasize the situation._

_There was a reason Lancelot, mired in insanity as he was, hadn’t tried to interfere in the duel. Hero or not, mad or not, he was only a man._

_And this was a battle of gods._

_When the light from Karna’s attack faded, the golden man was nowhere to be seen. Still, the Lancer did not lower his guard as he slowly floated to the ground._

_“I know you’re still here,” he called. “There is no reason to delay the inevitable in this battle, whatever it may be.”_

_Another portal opened up behind him and the golden man casually trotted out. A pleased smirk on his face._

_“Impressive.” the blonde complimented. “To successfully survive the onslaught of my treasures is no simple feat. It seems there is actually some merit to your status as a hero.”_

_“I thank you for your praise.” Lancer replied calmly. “Coming from one of such renown, it is truly gratifying.”_

_“Oh. Does that mean you have realized in whose glorious presence you stand?”_

_“Gilgamesh, King of All Heroes.” Lancer identified the man. “None could mistake your existence for any other. Though I confess, I had expected the First Hero to wield his arsenal with something approaching finesse.”_

_Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed in fury. For a tense moment, it seemed like he was about to rage._

_Instead, he broke out laughing. “You know the divine being before you, the King of the World you hail from, and yet you still speak with such nonchalance. Were you any other, I would think you insolent, Hero of Charity.”_

_Lancer bowed his head. “My apologies. I meant no such offense.”_

_“And yet somehow, your sincerity only increases the insult.”_

_Gilgamesh’s face broke out into a wide grin. He held out his hand. A shimmering portal smaller than the rest opened above his palm and deposited a strange, key like device in his grip._

_Lancer raised an eyebrow. “So, you will unleash your greatest weapon?”_

_“Indeed, though only my second greatest treasure.” the blonde man declared._

_Lancer nodded. “Very well. Then to survive, I shall face you with the full force of my power.”_

_“I cannot wait.”_

_Gilgamesh raised the key into the sky and twisted. A mountain of crimson lines branched out into the sky. From the very center and top of the expanse, a single light trickled down._

_Karna rose high into the air. His shining armor gleamed with power and dissipated from his form._

_The trickling light reached Gilgamesh’s hand, the red lines disappearing afterward. In his grip was perhaps the strangest weapon Raven had ever seen. The red-eyed man held it like a sword, it’s majestic golden pommel and guard radiating indisputable authority. Yet, where the blade should have been above it was a strange cylinder like construct, black and red and separated into three portions. There was not a bladed edge in sight._

_Though somehow, Raven doubted it would much matter. The weapon felt like the Goliaths outside Vale, patient and dormant, yet mired in power unfathomable. The sight her mastery granted her, that showed her the strengths of Servants and their Noble Phantasms, it could barely comprehend the might of that sword._

_Spikes of red metal rose into a clockwork position behind Karna’s back. The gold from his armor latched onto his spear. The lance suddenly transformed into a massive black and red halberd, reaching upward to pierce the sky. A gargantuan crimson inferno erupted from around the demigod, making his previous displays look like mere firecrackers. He was a second shining sun, denying hell its prized darkness._

_“Though shalt know the mercy of the gods…” Karna proclaimed._

_Gilgamesh raised his weapon. The drill’s three pieces began to spin, a titanic maelstrom of silver wind ripping about the sword._

_“You prize truth, Hero of Charity.” the golden man proclaimed. “Do you not realize? There is only one at the center of all creation. The truth of the beginning and the end. Of me.”_

_“This thrust shall be one of destruction.”_

_“I speak of genesis. The elements amalgamate, coalesce, and bring forth the stars that weave all creation.”_

_“Incinerate them!”_

_“Subside with death!”_

_“ **Vasavi Shakti!** ”_

_“ **Enuma Elish!”**_

_Each thrust their weapon at the other. The sun collided with Armageddon, the inferno buckling against the grand tempest of silver wind and light. The ground beneath them melted first to lava and then evaporated into nothingness, denied even existence. The air rushed away in a great hiss of terror, unable to abide existing in the presence of such unmatched power. Reality itself crumpled under the judgment of the two divine juggernauts._

_Raven knelt down to shield her eyes, unable to even glance upon the maelstrom of power anymore. But when she did, she caught sight of a streak of silver light lashing out against the surface of the Grimmlands. When it faded, the ground was no longer black, only pale-yellow sandstone._

_Her eyes widened._

_The silver wind… the power from that sword… did it…_

_It was a moment later when the black ground surrounding the splotch inched back into the freed area, slowly consuming the freed space once more._

_“What?” Raven muttered._

_“Lancer!”_

_Raven whipped her head around. The clash of ages was over, the world back to normal, or at least their equivalent._

_Smoke surrounded where Gilgamesh had stood, obscuring any view of where the golden man’s corpse must surely have resided._

_Karna slowly floated back to the ground. The unflappable demigod panted heavily. His armor was still gone, and a trickle of blood fell from his mouth. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion._

_Summer rushed towards him. “Lancer! Lancer are you alright?”_

_“Master! Stay back!”_

_That was when it happened. A dozen shimmering portals materialized around Karna and each shot out massive golden chains. The demigod’s eyes widened, and he dashed away. Unfortunately, whatever he had done before had weakened him, making him noticeably slower than before. He managed to dodge eleven of the twelve attacks, but the last binding wrapped itself around his leg. Soon enough, more portals opened and unleashed even more chains, completely encasing Summer’s Servant in a golden prison._

_Gilgamesh emerged from the smoke, his Sword of Rupture swinging at his side. His armor was noticeably torn in several places and there were several small cuts across his face, but those were already healing, leaving the King of Heroes’ smirk unscathed._

_“An impressive display, Son of the Sun God.” he praised, his words actually sounding completely genuine. “You have my thanks for ensuring this farce is not a complete waste of my time.”_

_Karna struggled for a moment but when the chains merely tightened, he sighed in resignation. “It was my pleasure. I must admit, I did not know if my power would be enough to survive an Anti-World Noble Phantasm.”_

_“I did not believe so either,” Gilgamesh confessed. “To think, there exists a power capable of stalemating Ea. Even it is the spear of a god, you have wielded it far better than any other possibly could. If it did not weaken you so to use it, you may well could have defeated me.”_

_“You do me too much credit, King of Heroes.” Karna protested. “But even still, I wonder if I might make a request of you.”_

_Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re begging for your life? I’d hate to have misjudged you so.”_

_“Not at all.” Karna shook his head. “I accept my fate as the loser of our duel. However, I would request that you allow my master and her allies to leave this place unharmed.”_

_“You are capable of matching me in combat, yet you concern yourself with such mongrels?” Gilgamesh chuckled. “You truly are the Hero of Charity. Very well, they shall all leave this place alive. You have the word of the king of the world of your birth.”_

_Karna smiled and nodded. “Thank you, King of Heroes. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.”_

_“Lancer!”_

_Summer dashed across the crumpled ground right towards the two Servants._

_“Summer! Wait!” Qrow called, leaping after her._

_“Qrow! Damnit!” Raven shouted as she and Tai rushed after them._

_Summer got to the Servants. She made to grab the chains holding Karna, but a row of portals emerged before her and blocked her path._

_“Mongrel.” Gilgamesh pronounced coldly. “I have said you shall survive this encounter. Do not force me to break a king’s world by laying a hand on my greatest treasure.”_

_Summer glared at the golden man. “Let. Him. Go.”_

_“Master, it is alright,” Karna assured her. “It was an honor and a pleasure to have known you. But it is over.”_

_“No.” Summer wept, tears pricking the sides of her eyes. “No. The Grail is… this can’t have all been for nothing. This can’t be how it ends.”_

_Karna smiled warmly. “The Age of Gods ended long ago. Yet, I have still borne my father’s blood in this world, as divine as the day I was born. Heroes fight for the people of the future, for those who will come after the sun sets on our lives. Nothing ever ends, Summer Rose. Because the treasures of heroism shall always live on.”_

_“Lancer…” Summer whispered._

_Gilgamesh smiled. “Well spoken.”_

_He thrust the drill sword through Karna’s chest._

_“NO!” Summer wailed._

_The cone spun for a moment, tearing the demigods inside apart. Gilgamesh removed his weapon and retracted his chains from Lancer’s form._

_Karna plummeted to the ground, blood tumbling out of the massive hole in his chest. Somehow though, he held himself on his knees instead of crumpling to the dirt._

_The Hero of Charity looked up at his master and flashed her one last smile. Then, he dissipated into blue dust._

_Tears poured out of Summer’s silver eyes._

_Gilgamesh opened another golden portal and returned his sword to… wherever he pulled stuff from. He glanced down at Summer and scowled. “Do try to show some dignity, mongrel. That Ruler wench has made this affair enough of a disappointment without your squalling.”_

_“SHUT UP!!!”_

_Summer’s face flew up, her eyes blazing with silver light. The glow lashed out at the Servant in twin beams, slamming into his armor._

_“What?” Gilgamesh exclaimed. The golden man was slowing pushed back by the barrage, the gauntlet of his armor slowly tinging silver, though he seemed to be unharmed overall._

_However, whatever Summer was doing, it clearly drained her. After keeping up the blast for several seconds, she dropped to her knees once more, panting heavily._

_A golden portal appeared above her._

_“Summer!” Raven howled. Both she and Qrow quickly transformed into their new bird states, desperately hoping the speed of flight would get them there in time._

_They needn’t have bothered. The golden portal faded from view._

_Gilgamesh glared at Summer. “To strike a king is a punishable offense in my world, mongrel. You are lucky your Servant had more valor than you.”_

_Another portal shimmered into existence behind him and a moment later, the King of Heroes was gone._

_Raven and Qrow arrived next to Summer and transformed back to humans, propping their leader against their knees._

_“Summer? Summer, are you okay?” Raven shouted._

_Fortunately, their team leader groaned a moment later. Her eyes fluttered opened, revealing her silver eyes back to normal. “Not to self, practice staring.”_

_Raven and Qrow sighed in relief._

_“Summer, what the hell was that?” Qrow inquired incredulously as Tai arrived._

_Summer waved them off. “Silver eyes. Magic. Kills Grimm and Servants. Long story. Tell you after we get out of here.”_

_Raven nodded and helped her leader to her feet. They were quite literally in the worst place in the world for them to be. The Grimm might have been scared off by the battle of Servants, but this was still their world. Who knew if Hazel’s protection was for good or merely a mercy lead. With the titanic Servants gone, the creatures of darkness would return to the area soon enough._

_Still, a part of Raven wondered what the point was. The grail was their only chance to end Salem once and for all and it was gone. They’d failed. Now Ozpin and Salem’s endless stalemate would resume as Salem tried to get the relics to expand her stagnant Reality Marble while Ozpin kept them safe while searching for a way to end her._

_But something about that didn’t make sense. If the Grimmlands were stagnant as Ozpin had told them, how had it regenerated its influence from the clash of Noble Phantasms?_

_What didn’t Ozpin tell them?_

**_“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!”_ **

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Raven shot up in bed, her eyes wide and bloodshot. Her new Berserker’s control of his Madness Enchantment had mostly kept Lancelot’s at bay, granting her the first months of good sleep she’d had in two decades, but it seemed even he had his limits. Still, she couldn’t blame the black knight for the entire mess. It had been her own memory after all.

The memory that led to her greatest mistake.

Still, she didn’t have time to wallow in the past. There was a war to fight.

She got up and quickly threw on her crimson combat robes. She strapped her sword and scabbard to her side exited the bedroom.

She slid open the door to the rest of the house. Finding someone in Mistral willing to rent a large house to the infamous Raven Branwen was not as difficult as one would expect. While Vacuo was the kingdom most renown for lawlessness, it was Mistral, with all its famed culture and art, that housed the largest black market on Remnant. After all, the more food there was the more rats would come for a piece.

Still, the rooms were spacious and there were enough of them to keep any of the team members from stepping on each other’s toes. Raven soon arrived in the common room, where Vernal was handing out duties to each member.

“We need to scout the academy’s defenses, make sure the openings from our intel are still there” Vernal finished. “Everybody clear?”

“No. Why do I have to go food shopping?”

Vernal rolled her eyes. “Do you want to eat?”

“No, I get grabbing the grub. But why do we have to pay for it? We’re bandits!”

Raven decided to nip this stupidity in the bud. As soon as she approached the massive square table they all surrounded, every fidgeting member of the group went ramrod straight. It was gratifying. When she and Qrow were young, they’d often had to deal with disrespect because of his semblance. Now, there wasn’t a person in the tribe who would dare insult her, behind her back or to her face.

“We are bandits.” Raven replied smoothly. “But we are bandits in the middle of enemy territory. We cannot afford to draw attention to ourselves. Not until the time is right to strike. Is that understood?”

She received a chorus of nods.

“Good. Now get on it.”

The strike team disintegrated as they left to go about their duties.

Vernal turned to Raven with an amused smirk. “I had that handled you know.”

Raven returned her grin. “I know. Just didn’t want to waste any more time than necessary.”

Vernal’s smile disappeared. “Are you okay?”

Raven chuckled. She loved her tribe, but even she could tell the younger generation of their ranks carried more fools like Shay D. Mann than competent warriors like her and Qrow. Vernal was a godsend. From her earliest combat training, the girl had shown herself to be strong, resourceful, and most importantly, intelligent. Raven took her under her wing by the time she was thirteen, and by the time she was seventeen she was as skilled as the average huntsman.

But where the girl truly proved her worth was in loyalty. Most of the clan was surprisingly obedient to the tribe and its tenants, but Vernal would die for them, Raven in particular. It was that trustworthiness that convinced Raven to disclose details of her past: her role in Ozpin’s operation, the Holy Grail War, even old passcodes and protocols. So far, the girl had not disappointed that faith.

Raven waved her off as she took a seat. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

Vernal raised a concerned eyebrow. “A bad dream, or a _bad dream_?”

“A _bad dream_ ” Raven admitted with a sigh. “Not nearly as bad as some of my old ones but disturbing nonetheless.”

“Makes sense.” Vernal nodded. “After you got the maiden powers, one of those bad dreams could take down the entire camp.”

Yes, the first few months with the maiden powers had been difficult, her own frustration at herself and the girl she had taken in boiling to the surface. She had tried everything, _everything_ , to teach her how to fight, to survive, but the girl simply didn’t have it in her. Ozpin had found her when she was twelve and that was simply too young for the burdens that came with the Spring Maiden’s power.

When the girl had come to them, lured by rumors of Raven’s knowledge of the mystical, she had begged for training, for help in understanding the weight on her shoulders that Ozpin and Lionheart simply hadn’t been able to provide her, too focused on keeping her safe from Salem to see that they’d made the child utterly terrified of having to battle her. Raven had tried to help, but the girl’s psychological issues crippled her combat ability, not helped by Lancelot’s constant presence.

Eventually, she’d picked a fight with the insane knight just to escape it all. She’d barely been breathing when Raven finally managed to pull the Servant off her. At that point… at that point it was all Raven could do to make her passing quicker.

Of course, she should have known something was up when the child’s final words were “thank you.”

Soon after, she found out exactly who had been in the girl’s final thoughts. And how trapped she was in Ozpin’s war.

Well, all that was left to do was fight it. On her own terms.

“Have you made contact with any of our informants in the city?” she inquired to Vernal.

The girl nodded. “They’re all in rather high spirits. Apparently, almost every huntsman in the kingdom, even Haven’s professors, have been sent on extermination missions on the frontier. With only the police to avoid, life’s been far easier for the less reputable since we were last here. Though, one thing does have them scared.”

“And that would be?”

“Your brother’s been spotted in the city. A few of our feelers saw him heading to Haven this morning.”

Raven smirked. “So, his little band actually made it. Those children are more skilled than I gave them credit for.”

That or the Rose girl had finally figured out how to use a bit of her powers. Their problems would be one step closer to being dealt with if that was the case.

“Do you want to take another shot at them or focus of the relic?” Vernal asked.

“The relic.” Raven answered immediately. “Yang and Rider have most likely joined them. Taking on three Servants without the advantage of the relic would be foolish. Besides, if all the kingdom’s huntsmen are away, Haven is wide open.”

That itself was strange. Lionheart may have been the least of Ozpin’s lieutenants, but he wasn’t an idiot. After the Fall of Beacon, he should have brought in every huntsman he could find and fortified his vault’s defenses. Instead, he sent away his teachers, the one group that the Mistral Council couldn’t take away from him.

Either, the cowardly lion had finally lost all sense, or he was working for Salem.

Raven hadn’t spoken with him in a while so she couldn’t say for sure either way. But it was better to plan for the worst.

Or better yet, find out for sure.

She stood from the table. “I think I better do a little reconnaissance myself.”

Vernal raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you’re just a tad recognizable around here?”

Raven shrugged. “One bird looks just like another.”

_‘Black out the sky. All things must die.’_

She activated Ozpin’s ‘gift’ and flew away.

 

* * *

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****

Leonardo Lionheart hated himself.

He hated his position, his successes, and his failures. And his fear. Especially his fear.

When the young Spring Maiden had come under his care, he’d been thrilled. He would finally get the chance to show Ozpin that he was just as committed to the cause as Glynda or James, that he was more than just the token Faunus in their little circle, that he could help. He would train the girl to be the greatest maiden Remnant had ever known.

But then everything had gone wrong. The young girl had run off in the middle of the night, terrified by the duties he and Ozpin had placed on her shoulders.

Of course, he hadn’t known that at the time. At first, he’d thought the poor child had been kidnapped by Salem’s forces. He would never let one of _his_ students be harmed by the Queen, so he’d rushed off to the Grimmlands himself to save her.

There, he had met the Mother of Grimm.

There, his cowardice took control.

She was… horrible. Darkness and death and _evil_. Evil like nothing he had ever seen or imagined. His mind had frozen in absolute terror, desperate to survive, to save himself and his students from this monster for as long as he could.

So, he’d sold his soul. He’d sold out his principles. He’d sold out Ozpin and eventually, he’d sold out Vale by giving Cinder Fall a perfect alibi to get into Beacon with. All to keep Salem from unleashing the full force of her wrath upon Haven. He’d done it for the students. That’s why he’d pushed back the school year, to make sure none of the children would be around when Salem’s agents came for the Relic of Knowledge.

Of course, a tiny pinprick in the back of his mind reminded him that many of the huntsmen he’d sent to their deaths had also once been his students.

That pinprick was the part of himself he hated most of all.

He had to make sure it stayed silent when his former allies came calling.

Qrow sighed. “So, what you’re saying is that we’ve got no huntsmen, Atlas has closed its borders, and we’ve got no idea where any of the other masters are other than the ones I brought with me? Do I got all that right, Leo?”

Lionheart nodded, putting on a show of solemnity. “Indeed. When I felt the shockwave during the Fall of Beacon, I began searching for others with Command Seals but I can’t say I’ve been successful. And to top it all off, we still have no idea where the Spring Maiden is. Even after all these years, I haven’t been able to find anything about her whereabouts.”

Qrow sighed. “She’s dead.”

“What!” Lionheart exclaimed. “Qrow, I know it’s been a long time, but there’s no reason to give up—”

“Raven attacked us on the way here. She had the Spring Maiden powers.”

Lionheart’s eyes widened. All those years of trying to find his student, of hoping to have her open the vault and be safe from Salem, for nothing.

He sank back into his chair. “I… I didn’t think… she was one of us. How could she…”

“I don’t know. Raven hasn’t exactly had the best morality for the last decade, but this… she sunk to a new low” Qrow admitted. “But it also makes her more dangerous than ever. She’s been chosen as a master again and she’s using the power to support Lancelot and another Berserker. One that’s even meaner if you can believe it.”

“And without having to dedicate aura to it, she can fight at full capacity.” Lionheart surmised. “This is a disaster.”

“Hey, we’re on the backfoot sure, but we can still make this work” Qrow encouraged him. “If we can gather enough huntsmen, we can hit the Branwen Tribe—”

“Gather enough huntsmen?” Lionheart cut in incredulously. “Qrow, the Mistral Council forced me to give them my teachers for missions. They’ll never give me enough huntsmen for this. Raven is a maiden now, a match for most Servants. Your three masters are stalemated against her, and if her new Berserker is as powerful as you say, do you really think we can handle them plus an entire tribe of bandits?”

Qrow’s eyes widened for just a moment. It was uncharacteristic of the man, but Leo was being far more forceful than usual. It wasn’t unbelievable that he’d be shocked.

A moment later, his eyes narrowed. “Fine. Do what you can to get reinforcements from the council. We’ll stay in the city in the meantime.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” Lionheart professed.

Qrow snorted. “Yeah. I get that. See you around, Leo.”

He walked out of the room.

Lionheart sank back into his chair.

A raven fluttered outside his window.

The shelf door (newly repaired with lots and lots of glue) opened wide, allowing Watts and Rider Alter entrance. The disgraced scientist stroked his mustache. “Leonardo, we must work on your acting skills.”

Lionheart cringed under the chastisement. Sure, it was just one of Watts’ traditional snarks, but any one of those could turn into taking off his head at a moment’s notice. Salem would be displeased sure, but she didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of him either. She probably wouldn’t blame any of her minions too much if they decided he had outlived his usefulness.

“What do you plan to do?” Lionheart inquired.

Watts smirked. “If Raven Branwen is a master once again, she’ll never give up her Servant. The grail is too tempting a prize for one such as her. Qrow gave us the location of the Branwen camp, so we’ll have Rider Alter head over there and give them a little… _greeting_.”

Lionheart gulped. “Do you really think he’ll be enough? Against one Servant, he’d likely win but against two, plus a maiden—”

“He would likely lose,” Watts revealed. Above him, his Servant growled, but the doctor waved him off. “At least, if this new Berserker really is stronger than Lancelot. However, Rider possesses the Disengage skill at Rank A. He will be able to ascertain the enemy’s strength level and then return safely to provide us with the intelligence. We can then create a more effective strategy for eliminating our foes and taking Raven hostage. Afterwards, she will be… _persuaded_ to open the Vault of the Spring Maiden.”

Lionheart nodded. “That’s… that’s a good plan. It will work. And the school will be safe. But, if I may, there is something I’m unclear about.”

“What, Leonardo?”

“There’s a skill for running away?”

“ _Rrrrrr._ ” Rider Alter growled in his face.

Lionheart was suddenly very grateful his lower uniform was brown.

 

* * *

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****

_Oscar had no idea where he was._

_It was a wide, circular room, green in color. There was a large desk with a black chair behind it, a wide window taking up the wall beyond even that. Over his head, massive gears and handles whirled like the inner workings of some giant clock._

_He didn’t know why he was seeing it. He’d never been there before… no. No, he had. Or Ozpin had. Yes, this was Ozpin’s office. This was Ozpin’s office from Beacon._

_“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Raven.”_

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Ozpin had seemingly materialized from nowhere, sitting calmly in the black chair behind the desk._

_In front of him was the woman they’d saved Qrow from in the forest. But she was different. She looked years younger, fewer wrinkles and signs of wear. Though, she also had massive black bags under her eyes. Next to her, a knight wreathed in dark smog twitched and spasmed regularly._

_The woman sighed, irritation plain in her breath. “It’s fine, Oz. Though, I would have preferred if you’d used your magic to help me handle this Madness Enchantment over turning into a bird.”_

_Ozpin shook his head. “Unfortunately, dampening Lancelot’s curse requires far more magic than your transformation. I could have either done that or constructed the bounded field to defend from Gilgamesh. Either one would have used up all my remaining reserves.”_

_Raven rolled her tired eyes. “Needs of the many. I get it. Still, you try getting some decent shut eye with a Berserker in one ear and a crying infant in the other.”_

_Ozpin chuckled. “That reminds me. How is little Yang?”_

_A soft smile graced Raven’s lips. “She’s a three-month-old, so loud. Very, very loud. Still, I’ve got a good feeling about her. She’ll be strong one day.”_

_“I’m glad,” Ozpin assured her warmly. “Perhaps one day she’ll attend this school just like her parents. You and Tai’s daughter… I’m not sure if Beacon will survive.”_

_Raven’s smile evaporated. Her brow crinkled with worry. “Ozpin… correct me if I’m wrong, but Salem’s Reality Marble, you said it was stagnant, correct?”_

_Ozpin stared at her for a moment and then sighed. “I take it you know otherwise.”_

_“I saw it regenerate,” Raven informed him. “And when we got to the coast, I thought I imagined it, but it seemed a little farther into the water. Why would you lie to us? Why wouldn’t you tell us that we’re not in a stalemate, but that the enemy is winning?”_

_“The Grimmlands’ rate of expansion is minimal; Gaia’s lingering influence sees to that,” Ozpin explained. “It took the Queen this long to absorb her continent, millennia of work. It won’t matter in your lifetime, so I saw no reason to burden your minds with things that could destroy your hope for the future.”_

_“And what’s your plan for the future?” Raven inquired, her voice sharp, a familiar underlying danger seeping in. “Tell me Ozpin. How do you plan to destroy Salem before another millennium passes and she controls the entire world? The grail is gone. What’s your play? Just wait around and hope?”_

_“The plan is to keep her from obtaining the other relics.” Ozpin elaborated calmly. “And look for another way to stop her.”_

_“So, keep her from winning faster and just pray for a miracle? While you send future generations to die for you?”_

_Ozpin’s eyes narrowed for the first time. “I don’t want anyone to die for me. I’ve done the best I can. Raven please, you’re being irrational.”_

_“You plan on sending my daughter to die!” Raven roared, the black knight at her side riving in dark smoke. “You plan on using Yang as a pawn in a war you don’t even have a plan to win.”_

_“There is no way to win.” Ozpin declared. “Not now. I’ll keep looking for a way, I will **always** look for a way. But destroying a Reality Marble… it is like destroying an entire world. It is not so simply done. And as of now, there is nothing that can do so. The best I can do is hold her off until something comes up.”_

_Raven glared at the man for several tense seconds. Then, her eyes widened it a look of realization._

_“No.” she muttered. “There is one thing.”_

_She whirled around towards the exit. The black knight melted into shadows._

_“Raven.” Ozpin called. “Where are you going?”_

_Raven reached the elevator and hopped in. She turned around and glared at Ozpin._

_“To win your war for you.”_

_At her words, the world around Oscar dissolved into darkness._

* * *

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****

Oscar awoke with a start, panting heavily. His eyes whirled about his surroundings.

It was bright, so that was a relief. He didn’t think he could take any more darkness. The entire place was warm colored wood, with touches of green all about. He himself was lying on a soft bed so that was a plus.

He glanced down at his legs. They didn’t look broken and he couldn’t feel any pain from them. Another plus.

Still, he didn’t know where any of the others were, so he had to—

“You’re AWAKE!”

The sliding door to his room slammed open and Nora Valkyrie leapt through the opening. She rushed over and squeezed him in a bone crushing bear hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay Little Cute Boy Ozpin!” she declared. “Jaune fixed your legs up good but you didn’t wake up. We were all so worried!”

“Um, Ms. Nora, air please?”

Nora’s eyes widened, and she released him from her grip. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to set back your recovery or anything.”

Oscar took a deep breath. “No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry. Besides, it’s my own fault I even have to recover—”

Nora smacked him upside the head.

“Ow!” he exclaimed.

“None of that,” the Valkyrie ordered, a hard look in her gaze. “What happened was the Nuckelavee’s fault, not yours”

“But I froze!”

“You’re fourteen.” Nora pointed out. “And in the span of a few months, you’ve been fused with an ancient wizard, left your home to retrieve a mystic sword, teleported people across a continent, and faced down even more terrifying version of the Grimm I’ve had nightmares about for years. Most huntsmen trainees, who choose to do this stuff, don’t go to an academy until they’re seventeen. You’re allowed to have a freakout.”

“You nearly got killed because of me!”

“And I didn’t. Also because of you.” Nora stated. Her face softened into a more comforting visage. She patted him on the back, her touch surprisingly soft. “The bad guys do enough to us without us blaming ourselves. Ren’s… Ren’s still a bit out of it. I’m trying to help, but he’s in a bad place.”

Oscar frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Nora gave him an encouraging smile. “Not your fault. Don’t worry, Renny’s tough. He’ll snap out of it.”

Oscar couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince him or herself. Either way, it would be kinder to get her mind off her troubles.

“Where are we?” he inquired. “Where is everybody else?”

Nora immediately perked up. “Oh yeah, while you were unconscious and all, Yang, that’s Ruby’s sister, showed up with Rider and saved us from Lancer Alter and evil Weiss. Then they gave us a lift in their flying chariot and, poof, we’re in Mistral. I’m pretty sure this is one of Ozpin’s secret circle safe houses or something.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “The Rider? Do we know who he is?”

“Oh yeah, he calls himself Iskandar, King of Conquerors. He’s a really nice guy, you’ll love him.” Nora promised. “He’s out with Yang, Ruby, Archer, Jaune, and Mor-Mor getting groceries. Blake and Sun are going to try tracking down some of the other Haven students for reinforcements, while Qrow’s talking to Headmaster Lionheart about the conspiracy stuff and everything.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of, is Professor Ozpin alright in there? He doesn’t cease to exist if you get knocked out or anything, right?”

“Not sure.” Oscar admitted. _‘You in there, old man?’_

_“I am, Oscar. I’m afraid you can’t get rid of me that easily.”_

Oscar smirked. “He’s good.”

“Great!” Nora cheered. “Now you are going to just stay tucked into bed while I get Renny to make you some chicken soup to help you get better.”

“But Nora, I feel—”

Nora stabbed a finger into Oscar’s chest. “Stay. In. Bed.”

 _“I believe listening to her is our best option, Oscar,”_ Ozpin advised. _“Besides, chicken soup is lovely.”_

Oscar sighed and nodded.

Nora grinned and dashed out of the room, leaving a scroll he suspected was his on the bedside table.

Oscar smiled softly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 _“I should be asking you that,”_ Ozpin replied. _“We expected the teleportation to drain me, but you’ve never misjudged your reinforcement like that before. What you did was very brave.”_

“Yeah, brave,” Oscar muttered. He didn’t feel brave, he felt stupid. Despite what Nora said, he couldn’t help feeling down on himself. “How did that Grimm know I was you?”

_“Salem has been trying to take over the world for an eon. I’m the only one who has consistently opposed her. This has been quite grating on her nerves. For the last few generations, the more powerful Grimm have been able to identify me on sight and are quite persistent about… well… killing us.”_

“Lovely.” Oscar scowled. “Would have been nice to know that a bit sooner.”

_“I’m sorry. I didn’t think we’d encounter any that powerful so soon. It was an oversight I will not make again.”_

“Like the one you made with Raven?” Oscar asked. “I noticed that you included the tidbit about the Grimmlands expanding in your explanation to Ruby and the others.”

 _“Hiding it cost me the faith of one of my greatest huntresses, even if she was hindered by Madness Enchantment at the time”_ Ozpin admitted. _“I wanted to maintain the others’ hope for a brighter tomorrow, but I was really just hiding the true stakes of our war. I told Qrow and Summer soon after Raven disappeared. When Raven reappeared leading the Branwen Tribe, I sent Qrow to try and smooth things over, bring her back into the fold, but she was determined to… stay off the radar if you will.”_

Oscar scratched his chin in thought. “What do you think she meant? When she said she was going to win the war?”

_“I have no idea. Perhaps she thought—”_

The scroll on the bedside table buzzed off. Oscar picked it up and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, kid,” Qrow answered. “Good to see you’re up. Is Oz listening in?”

“He is.”

“Good. He was right. Lionheart’s a traitor.”

“How do you know?”

“I never told him how many masters we had with us. And yet somehow he knew that we had three.” Qrow revealed. “How could he know we had nearly half the masters on our side unless someone who’s fought us told him. And since I don’t see Raven bothering to recruit Leo…”

“That leaves Salem’s forces.” Oscar finished. “The ones we fought at Kuroyuri must have told him.”

This was bad. The Headmaster of Haven, the person who controlled the path to the Vault of the Spring Maiden, was against them. That meant that if Salem captured Raven, the Relic of Knowledge was as good as lost. But at least they didn’t know that Raven was—

“Unfortunately, I told him that Raven was the Spring Maiden before I figured out he was a turncoat.”

Oh. So much for that.

“I’m heading back to the house now, kid,” Qrow reassured him. “We’ll come up with a plan then. See you there.”

The scroll clicked off, and the call ended.

Oscar took a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn’t afford to freak out again.

“How much trouble are we in?” he inquired to Ozpin.

_“Not as much as you think. Raven is one of the finest huntresses I’ve ever trained, and her semblance is perfect for evading capture. With the power of a Maiden behind her along with Lancelot and Hercules, she should be able to handle herself against Salem forces, at least for a bit. Who knows, maybe the increased pressure will convince her to ally with us.”_

Oscar frowned. “She killed the girl who was the last Spring Maiden. Do we really want to team up with someone like that?”

Growing up, the stories he’d heard about huntsmen and huntresses always made their fights seem simple. They won because they were good and the Grimm or the criminals were evil, and good always triumphed over evil. He knew there was often more tragic details involved, the death of Gretchen Rainart was a constant reminder of that, but they always seemed to be a noble sacrifice to save innocents or push the other heroes onwards.

But this, allying with Raven, that was teaming up with a villain, a bandit who had killed who knew how many people. Could they do that? Could they give a free pass to some evil to defeat another kind?

 _“Oscar, what Raven has become is monstrous.”_ Ozpin chimed in, having heard the boy’s thoughts. _“But Salem, if she wins, she will bring oblivion across all Remnant. There will be nothing good left in the world. If forming an alliance with other less favorable characters helps us protect the innocent, we don’t have a choice.”_

Oscar frowned. “Are you one of them? One of those ‘less favorable characters’?”

There was a pregnant pause in the air. For a moment, Oscar thought he’d offended the old man until…

_“After all this time, all this war, using so many good, honest, and heroic people as pieces in a chess game? I don’t know, Oscar. I’m sorry I don’t have anything better to give you.”_

Oscar sighed. They were outgunned, the ally they’d hoped to find was against them, the ancient wizard his soul was connected to wasn’t sure if he was a good guy, and now they were getting desperate enough to look to bandits for allies. So much for a fairy tale of huntsmen and huntresses.

But still, Ruby, Jaune, Yang, and the others had all chosen to fight it. They chose to stand against insurmountable odds against devils and kings because it was the right thing to do. For all the innocent people who would never know their names, they had to win.

It was the right thing to do.


	47. Family Matters

“Master, are you ready?” Caster called.

Emerald nodded. “Light it up!”

Caster floated into the air, a dozen pink rings materializing around her. They focused into a single circle and unleashed a massive beam of _prana._

The enormous Rain of Light collided with the Vault of the Spring Maiden, the gate to the Relic of Knowledge bursting with an ethereal orange glow. Softly gleaming leaves fell from the mighty oaks around the doorway, each one floating into the path of Caster’s assault.

Emerald looked up from her hiding place by the elevator. Above them, boulders started to tumble down from the cavern roof and plummet into the dark pit below. Caster didn’t seem to notice as her face tightened, her body pouring more and more power into her spell, daring the divine gate to continue resisting her magic.

Unfortunately, the gate proved up to the challenge. After a few minutes, Emerald could tell they were getting nowhere.

“Stop!” she called out. “Caster, stop!”

The Servant scowled but called off her barrage. The spellcaster slowly floated back to the ground, panting slightly as Emerald walked up to her.

The door to the vault didn’t even have a scratch.

Lancer Alter had not been pleased to learn Watts had ordered them to sit tight until Hazel arrived. The fight at Kuroyuri had sated him, but a mad dog was always hungry. When he’d learned that their objective in waiting around had in part been to locate the Spring Maiden and get the Relic of Knowledge, he’d decided to just cut out the middleman and blow open the vault door with his Noble Phantasm.

There’d been quite a lot of dust, but the gate had easily held.

Nevertheless, Watts decided it was an avenue worth exploring and put them to work seeing if there was any way to circumvent the entrance without the Spring Maiden. Lancer Alter had proved to be a bit more help than expected, he had a surprisingly extensive knowledge of rune magic, but he’d soon become bored and left with Weiss for what he’d referred to as ‘relaxation’. Emerald wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gone off to kick every puppy in the city.

Still, Caster was more than happy to be left in solitude for the task. Despite her recent brush with death, unraveling the mysteries of the vault’s ancient magic filled her with an exuberance like no other, the challenge bringing a wide smile to her face.

And despite herself, that grin, in turn, brought one to Emerald’s.

“So, concentrated, sustained fire didn’t work,” she observed. “Any other ideas?”

Caster grinned. “Oh, many, master. To think I would get the chance to study an artifact of Gaia in this far-flung age. This is a level of power I had not touched even in my time. The knowledge that can be gleaned…”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Emerald asked concernedly. “If this thing is powerful enough to shrug off Lancer’s spear, it’s probably got a few traps for people who look into the details as well. You barely survived Saber’s attack at Kuroyuri. You should wait, make sure you’re at a hundred percent before charging in.”

“Master, while I am grateful for the concern, I have completely healed from that encounter.”

“Are you sure? It’s only been a few days.”

“I am quite sure. A Servant’s healing abilities are far beyond a normal human’s, plus my own magic allows me to accelerate the process—”

“But you said yourself this thing is powered by old magic.” Emerald protested. “That means it probably expects people like you to study it closer. What if the repulsing is only for blunt attacks and there’s more deadly stuff that will trigger if you try to pick it apart? It’s too dangerous.”

Caster tilted her hooded head to the side. “Master, where is this coming from? Don’t tell me our last battle has caused you to doubt my ability?”

“What? No!” Emerald protested. As if she was going to blame her for losing a fight to the strongest class in the war. If anything, she was relieved that the weapons upgrade to the bullhead had been enough to throw off Saber’s aim enough for her to swoop in and get her out of there.

“I just think you shouldn’t dive into something this dangerous without thinking.”

“Like a Holy Grail War?” Caster smirked.

Emerald’s eyes narrowed. “The point is, I don’t want you getting yourself blown up over something stupid.”

“You consider the gate to one of the most powerful artifacts in the world to be stupid?”

“Compared to you? Yes!”

Caster’s mouth dropped at her declaration, the collected Servant stunned stiff.

Emerald’s mouth opened and closed rapidly as she realized what she said. She crossed her arms and turned away from Caster. “Look, I just… you’re the only other person in this whole mess that’s not a jerk and is actually sane. I don’t want to be alone in this madhouse.”

She had been alone for a long time. Hell, the first thing she remembered was crawling out of some crappy box in the middle of an alleyway, not another person in sight. And when she did find others, it was never a pleasant experience. Between street kids trying to steal her rightfully stolen food, random adults who were mad she’d stolen their food, or mob bosses who wanted her for her semblance or her… other assets, it really was no surprise that she’d latched onto Cinder when she did. The older woman didn’t really care about her, but she at least cared enough to keep her promises.

Until she’d promised to come to the rendezvous point.

She’d messed with stuff she’d thought she’d understood and had ended up dead for it.

Emerald had nearly been alone once again until Hazel had arrived and dragged her into the insane asylum that was Salem’s coalition. The Mother of Grimm could be kind, and Hazel seemed agreeable enough if a little stoic, but the others ranged from sociopathic jerks to full-blown psychopaths. And even with the former two, Salem wasn’t called All the World’s Evils for nothing, and everything she heard about Hazel spoke of him as the Queen’s trump card. If anything, she was worse off than she’d been with Cinder.

Caster was the only bright spot in the whole mess. Time and time again, her Servant had echoed her own worries and provided viable failsafe’s and alternatives when those fears could not be acted upon directly, even bailing the green-haired girl out when she made one of her rare mistakes. The Witch of Betrayal was truly a false title because she was the only person Emerald had spoken with in months, perhaps in her whole life, that she actually believed was on her side.

She… _trusted_ her. She trusted Caster to help her win the Holy Grail and save Cinder. Perhaps the late Fall Maiden had only seen her as a pawn, but without her, Emerald never would have met Medea. She owed it to her to revive her for that alone.

Caster moved her hands up to her head. She walked a few steps closer to Emerald and placed a soft grip on her shoulder.

“Look at me, Emerald.”

Reluctantly, Emerald raised her head and her eyes widened at what she saw.

Caster had pulled her hood down, letting Emerald see her face for the first time. Her features were sharp, yet lacking the fury normally attributed to such a condition, at least for the moment. Her ears were pointed at the tip, making her look kind of like an elf from some fantasy game. Her purplish-blue hair cascaded freely down her shoulders, its ethereal beauty now on full display without her hood to constrain it.

It was stunning. And more importantly, it was honest. This wasn’t Caster, the sinister Servant of the Spell. This was Medea, the Princess of Colchis whose life was turned into a nightmare because of forces she could not control. This was the girl who was torn away from her home and made a killer of her own kin for a god’s whims of fancy.

This was the girl who would protect her. Despite everything, Emerald had no doubt that the woman in front of her would protect her.

Because no matter her title, the woman before her… was a hero.

“You will not lose me, master,” Caster promised. “I will never abandon you, on that, you have my solemn word.”

“I believe you,” Emerald reassured her, tears trickling down her face. “But just, please, hold off on messing with this thing. In a few days, we’ll have the Spring Maiden and you can study the relic itself. Just, wait until the danger’s past. Please. For me.”

Caster merrily shook her head, a light chuckle escaping her lips. “If my master commands so, then it will be done. Though, we shall have to find another way to occupy our time.”

Emerald raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I do, actually.” Caster confessed. “When Saber’s helmet was removed for her Noble Phantasm, I was able to get a very good look at her face. And given your semblance, I was wondering if you could recreate her for me.”

“Uh, sure.” Emerald shrugged. “I mean, you don’t have Magic Resistance, so as long as you tell me what she looks like, it should be fine.”

Caster smiled. She quickly provided Emerald with Saber’s description and in no time at all, both of them were looking at an illusion of the warrior they’d fought at Kuroyuri, with the horned helmet replaced with the rough, but admittedly, cute-ish face of a young blonde girl.

“Yes, yes, this will do nicely…” Caster hummed. She removed her hand from Emerald and stalked towards the projection.

Emerald wondered why she’d wanted to see her. Was she more affected from the battle than she let on and wanted to face her fears? Or did she want to annihilate the illusion for some sort of catharsis? Or did she—”

“Can you put her in a wedding dress?”

Emerald blinked in shock. “Come again?”

“A wedding dress,” Caster repeated. “Can you show her in a wedding dress instead of that ghastly armor, or do you need to have already seen her like that—”

“No, no, I can do a wedding dress.” Emerald quickly made the adjustments, betting her measurements off their own Saber Alter (who she weirdly kind of looked like). “Is this good?”

“Wonderful, master” Caster grinned, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “Oooo, isn’t she so _cuuuute_!”

Emerald gulped. “Yeah. Totally. She’s adorable.”

Just when she thought she was starting to understand these Servants…

 

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****

Weiss had done many things in her short life. As a Schnee, she had dined on the most exotic dishes and learned from the most sought-after tutors. Now as an Alter, she had killed her own brother and sworn her allegiance to All the World’s Evils, summoning corrupted heroes of legend in the meantime. Yet, despite all these incredible feats, her current activity, Lancer Alter’s ‘relaxation’, was new to her. And she knew why…

 “Why won’t these stupid fish just bite?” she demanded.

…It was _sooo_ boring.

She and Lancer Alter sat at the edge of one of Haven’s interconnected ponds, some Mistralian cultural tradition or something. If she remembered correctly, Neptune had mentioned freaking out after falling in during one of their conversations after the dance. The ponds were kept fully stocked with various types of fish to give the students a sense of the life they were going to be protecting as huntsmen.

After getting bored with the Vault of the Spring Maiden, Lancer Alter had dragged her over to the pond and decided they were going to ‘relax’. Which meant, in the words of the titanic bloodthirsty killing machine, fishing. He’d somehow acquired her a rod and shown her how to cast it into the water. He himself had then laid down next to her and dipped his spiked tail into the water. He’d assured her this would calm her down while they were waiting for the all clear to attack.

Instead, they were just waiting for fish. None of whom seemed to have the common courtesy to bite her bait.

Lancer Alter smirked and shook his head. “You have to be patient, master. The fish will come to you.”

He raised his tail out of the water and displayed the dozen fish that had impaled themselves on his spikes.

Weiss dropped her rod and crossed her arms. “Why do I have to be patient? They’re right there. I can summon an Arma Gigas to stab one. Hell, I could just reach out and grab them!”

Cu Chulainn raised an eyebrow. “I sense this is no longer about the fish. What’s on your mind, my lady?”

“What’s on my mind? The others are in the kingdom!” Weiss exclaimed. “They’re in the city! We can just go and get them! But instead, we’re just sitting here.”

“Nah.”

“What?”

“That’s not what’s on your mind.” Lancer Alter challenged. “I mean sure, it’s probably part of it. But you’ve been acting subdued ever since Kuroyuri. I’d say Emerald’s little reprimand got to you, but it’s only gotten worse since we got here.”

“I’ve been constrained. Kept from my vengeance.”

“Try again. That might have been it if you were just smarting from the talking to, but why would it have gotten worse?”

“There’s right here! And we’re doing nothing!”

“No. No, it all happened after we met Rider Alter.”

Weiss’ eyes went wide. She averted her gaze from Lancer Alter.

Cu Chulainn sighed. “So, it was the brute. Can’t say I understand you being scared of him, master. You’ve made things more terrifying than him.”

“I have.” Weiss agreed softly. “But I’m not scared of him. I’m scared of what he is.”

“I don’t follow.”

“This Darius III is someone infected with the Queen’s mud who seeks eternal vengeance to the point of ignoring his own allies. Sound familiar?”

“Oh, come on. You’re not that bad.” Cu Chulainn assured her. “Sure, you’re temperamental, arrogant, prissy…”

“Oh, shut up you jerk.” Weiss chuckled, smacking him on his armor. He couldn’t possibly have felt the blow through his sea monster bone armor, but he made a show of rubbing the area she’d struck anyway. His humorous generosity was charming in its own way, especially since she knew he would much rather be tearing the other Servants apart.

Granted, that itself was endearing since she knew he would love to have her along for the ride.

Of course, did that mean she should have gone with him?

Weiss’ smile faded into an introspective frown. “He was rage, and fury, and single-minded destruction. He was like a mad dog the moment he heard Iskandar’s name. Like nothing else in the world mattered. It was… sickening and that’s when it hit me. That’s what I looked like at Kuroyuri; a mad dog too busy declaring that they would take vengeance to actually get anything done. I had every opportunity to kill the Ruby and the others, and yet I kept showboating so much that the most I did was break Blake’s arms. You told me to enjoy the battle, and I did, but even if we are the Queen’s hounds, I don’t want to be like that. Not a mutt.”

Lancer Alter hummed in thought. He snagged a fish off his tail and took a bite out of its side. “It’s an interesting thought. Though even if it’s true, I don’t think closing yourself off to having fun is the right way to fix anything. Though perhaps telling you to go wild when you just got such a massive power boost from the mud wasn’t the best idea. You still need to adjust to the Queen’s influence after all.”

“What do you mean?” Weiss inquired.

“The mud changes people. Amplifies their abilities, gives Salem a direct line into their head, and as long as it’s in our system, we’re going to be loyal to her, no matter what.” Lancer Alter elaborated. “But it also affects their mental state. The whole ‘accepts evil’ thing isn’t exactly natural. It twists us into our new Alter forms, takes our greatest desires and fears and enhances them tenfold. Sometimes, one desire wins out over everything else, like my battle lust or Rider’s grudge against Iskandar. Sometimes, like in your case, two or more can clash. Desires and fears, emotions and longing. You don’t want to be a mad dog. That’s a good place to start. But more than anything, you need to ask yourself ‘what do you want?’.”

Weiss looked down at the pond, the water’s reflective surface shimmering like a mirror. “What do I want?”

That was something she’d struggled with all her life. She’d wanted to be a huntress. She’d wanted to restore honor to her family name. She’d wanted to be better than her father.

But that was all irrelevant now. She had become about the furthest thing from a huntress, no longer a disposable soldier but a prized lieutenant of a mighty queen. She had cast aside her family name, its hypocritical stain both too disgusting to bear and no longer necessary to shoulder. And her father… well, she’d already been better than him without Salem’s backing and he would likely be dead once Hazel reached the White Fang.

No. Those things didn’t matter now; her ideals had been corrected by the queen’s guidance. She didn’t struggle to be better when she was already fine. But maybe there was something more. Some secret, dirty, selfish longing she’d held within her heart…

Her reflection rippled in the pond.

_‘Mirror, mirror, who is the loneliest of all?’_

Winter had been family. Klein had been the closest thing she’d had to a father. But Team RWBY had been her first friends. They’d fought together, laughed together, even played together. They’d taught Weiss how to be an actual human being. She’d felt that if she was ever in true danger, if she ever needed them, they would come.

Which had only made it hurt all the more when they hadn’t.

**Black the Beast. Yellow Beauty. Red Like Roses.**

**They must suffer. They _deserve_ to suffer.**

_…_

_They do._

_…_

_…_

_…_

_But people rarely get what they deserve._

She had very strong feelings towards her former teammates. Feelings with the power to kill.

But… she didn’t think they were murderous.

Was that why she’d failed so miserably at Kuroyuri? Was her posturing some subconscious effort to avoid killing her old friends?

If it was, what did she really want from them? What was their relationship when she accepted the universal truth of evil and they were still trapped in the world of lies?

Well, fighting them had gotten her nowhere. So maybe, she needed to try a different way of interacting with them.

She smirked and rose to her feet.

Lancer Alter took another chomp out of his fish. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Indeed.” Weiss declared. “I think it’s time I attempted a more civil interaction with my old friends. Bring your fish. We might need them as a peace offering.”

Lancer Alter grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want to bring yours?”

“Huh?”

Weiss’ gaze shot down to her discarded rod as it twitched against the coast. She darted down to the ground and grasped it victoriously, a wide grin plastered across her face. “Yes! I knew no mere fish could outsmart my infinite patience!”

She wound the line back in and raised her bounty.

Her spikey, black, _foot_ of a bounty.

She turned on her giggling Servant, his hooked foot not showing the slightest sign of pain. “Congratulations, my lady. You’ve caught a big one.”

“Yeah, a big idiot,” she remarked.

Cú Chulainn’s grin widened. “A big, _handsome_ idiot. Perfect for a beautiful lady.”

Weiss smacked her palm into her face to hide her blush. “Just… let’s just go.”

“Aren’t you going to _unhook_ me?”

“No!”

 

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****

Ruby waited with bated breath for Yang’s response. “Well? What do you think? Isn’t it great?”

“What do I think? Ruby, you’re a genius!”

Yang snagged her little sister up from the ground and twirled her around in the air, the red hooded girl chuckling the entire way.

When she finally set her down, Ruby smirked. “See? I told you I would look for a way to stop Salem and save dad. And with Archer’s help, we can do it.”

“Yeah, we just have to make sure you win the war.” Yang agreed. Her smile was radiant, as stunning as it had been at Beacon even.

But it didn’t last long.

“Oh no, Yang you’ve got the ‘I’ve noticed you spilled milk on your perfect homework’ frown,” Ruby noted worriedly. “Why do you have that frown? That frown is for bad plans. This is not a bad plan.”

“It isn’t.” Yang agreed. “But it may be, problematic. What do you plan to do about the others’ wishes?”

“What do you mean? Jaune already agreed we should destroy Salem and he said he doesn’t plan to bring the others back to life. Why would he have a problem with us saving dad?”

“And what about Saber? Will she be willing to give up her wish so we can save dad?”

Ruby opened her mouth to respond but closed it again when she couldn’t come up with anything. She really didn’t know if Mordred would be willing to help them. The Knight of Treachery was prickly around the edges, but she wasn’t nearly as bad as her name suggested. She did want to protect people, she’d heard that from Blake. But, Ruby also knew she really wanted to face the Sword of Selection, to become king. Would she be willing to give that up to save Taiyang?

“What about Rider?” Ruby inquired hopefully. “You two seem to be on good terms—”

“He won’t give up his wish,” Yang stated with finality, a grim frown on her face. “He… his dream… it’s more important to him than almost anything. He likes me, but he’s still only known me a week. He’s been after reincarnation for a literal eternity.”

Ruby’s face fell. “So… what do we do? We can’t… we can’t betray them.”

Yang stared at the back of her right hand, her Command Seals glaring right back. “We won’t. I’m… I’m looking into another idea. It’s probably stupid, but we need to look into every option. But betraying our friends isn’t an option. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for Rider. You and Blake would be dead without Jaune and Mordred. We are not stabbing them in the back.”

Ruby nodded. Archer had told her about the trials that normally plagued a Holy Grail War, with betrayals and double-crosses occurring in abundance. She, Yang, and Jaune had the uncommon advantage of being friends before the chaos started, but still… an omnipotent wish was a hugely tempting prize, especially when a parent’s life hanged in the balance. She had been worried Yang’s determination and personal loyalty would have led her to be willing to do something she hated. It was fortunate then that that same personal loyalty made turning on the others abhorrent enough to avoid at all costs.

Yang hooked an arm around her neck. “Come on, little sis. Let’s quit with the depressing stuff for now and track down those two Servants of ours before they burn down the city.”

Ruby chuckled in her sister’s grip and they strolled through the marketplace.

Mistral Central Market was truly a sight to behold. The borders of the bazaar were made of luscious emerald mountains, with even a stunning waterfall cascading down one area, scattering sunlight around the shops below.

And what a collection of shops they were. From clothes, to plants, to _weapons_ , to every kind of food imaginable, if it could be sold then someone was selling it. Ruby had nearly fainted when she’d seen the huntress armory section, then she’d felt a little guilty when she realized that thanks to Archer’s Reality Marble, she now had access to the entire catalog without having to pay a single lien. When, guilty and euphoric, but she preferred to focus on the latter. It made her feel better about the former.

Jaune and Mordred had gone off to get the Saber new clothes, since Yang had reclaimed her jacket once she joined the group. When Ruby had told Archer she was going to bring Yang into the loop about their plan for the grail, the silver-haired man had nodded before distracting the King of Conquerors with… well, everything.

Of course, given how different the two of them were, leaving them alone together might not have been the best idea.

“Come now, Archer. Why are you so against the idea? _Kingdoms of Remnant: Eclipse of the Grimm_ has gotten excellent reviews, why should we not indulge ourselves in its brutal tactical combat?”

“We are on a budget, Rider.” Archer snapped. “We are on a budget with nearly a dozen people to feed. We can’t waste money on some trivial distraction.”

“Trivial? Archer, I would hardly call indulging in this age’s culture trivial. It is crucial that we gain an understanding of this new time’s history of conflict.”

“The expansion is about a virus that turns everyone the Grimm bite into a Grimm. That has absolutely nothing to do with history. Besides, we don’t even have the console to play it.”

“Hmmm… you’re right. We’ll have to buy that too.”

“Budget!” Archer screamed. “You and Saber eat half our food on your own, even though you don’t have to eat, so it’s either the ridiculous game or your portion of the meals. Your choice.”

“What? You can’t be serious!”

“Uh?” Ruby squeaked. “Is everything okay?”

Both Servants turned on their masters. Rider grinned at the sight of them. Archer coughed before regaining his composure.

“Ah, master. We were just having a slight disagreement on our purchasing priorities.” Archer explained.

Yang smirked. “Slight disagreement? Is that why that guy’s shaking in his boots?”

Both Servants turned around to see the poor shopkeeper of the stall they were at trembling in the face of the Heroic Spirits, his arms barely keeping him from cowering beneath the counter.

Ruby felt a wince of sympathy for the poor man. Servants as a whole tended to have big personalities and she’d had enough trouble adjusting to Archer and Mordred when they were trying to ignore each other. Iskandar was possibly more exuberant than them both put together and if he was able to bring out Archer’s protective side about cooking and household maintenance… oh that poor man.

“We’ll just take the food, please. We need to see what our friends got before we get the game.” Ruby told the shopkeeper. She forked over the required payment while Archer gathered the bags.

Rider sighed. Yang patted him on the back. “Think of it as resource allocation, big guy.”

“Or common sense.” Archer snarked.

Ruby smacked her face. She didn’t like seeing anyone disappointed, and Rider, for the short time she’d known him, had always been so exuberant. Plus, he’d saved Yang and convinced her to come and help them, so he was okay in her book. Maybe she could try to cheer him up? And maybe even learn a bit while she was at it. Dad did used to say there was nothing old huntsmen liked more than telling kids upon their glory days.

She shuffled up to her sister’s Servant. “Hey, um, Rider?”

“Hmm?” the large man turned on her with concern. “Is something wrong, Master of Archer? Did you want to go back and get the game?”

“Uh, actually, I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about your old battles,” Ruby said. “Say, I don’t know, the Fourth Holy War? You fought in that, right?”

Rider’s smile returned like the new dawn. “Ah, yes! That was a wonderous campaign! The opening skirmish at the docks! The Banquet of Kings! The battle of Mion River! And of course, my final glorious charge against the King of Heroes.”

Iskandar leaned down to Ruby’s height. “To be honest, your sister has far more spirit than my master at the time did. But, Waver was a good lad and a good friend, and he shaped up in the end.”

A tinge of a frown creased his grin. “In the end…”

Ruby didn’t know who this Waver person was, but she could guess Iskandar’s grief. After all, it was more than likely his old master was swallowed by the corruption mud when it emerged from the grail. Something that made what happened to Weiss the best-case scenario.

“I’m sorry, Rider” she attempted to comfort him.

Rider sighed, but his smile returned in a moment. “It is alright, little girl. The horizon is still there, and Waver is still in my heart. The only way left to go is forward.”

“Forward” Ruby muttered. Her spirit mustered an affirmative agreement. They couldn’t look back. Not when they had to protect everyone who was still there.

“Now then, I believe there was a certain golden king you wanted to ask me about” Rider mentioned. Off her look of astonishment, he only smiled. “I am the King of Conquerors, little girl. Reading the enemy is a crucial part of war.”

Ruby looked down, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why be sorry?” Rider rejected. “It is an excellent tactic to gain information on your enemy from one who has fought them before. You did well, though you really should try asking outright first. Subterfuge is for the Assassin class.”

“Oh?” Ruby muttered. “In that case, what happened when you fought Gilgamesh? Did he have any weaknesses you could see?”

“Not especially” Rider noted, rubbing his chin in thought. “He’s quite fond of his toys, but honestly they’re so powerful, his confidence is well earned. If he actually cares about the battle, he can unleash a tremendous rate of fire. And each shot will be a genuine Noble Phantasm. I imagine it would cut through aura like carving a cake.”

“I remember” Ruby whispered, recalling her attempted retreat atop Beacon Tower.

“Still, he’s quite arrogant on the whole. If one could use that to get close, they might have a chance” Rider continued. “Goldie’s got impressive statistics, but he’s still an Archer-class Servant. I imagine quite a bit of his hand to hand knowledge was lost when he was summoned in in his current vessel.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “What? Why? I know Servants can be affected by what class they’re summoned into, but Archer still has his swordsmanship skills.”

“I can retrace my experience from my blades’ history. Plus, Gilgamesh, while a formidable warrior, was also a king who did not practice as much as he should have. The skills are there, but not as deeply ingrained as in a soldier or the like” Archer noted, joining the conversation. “Nevertheless, the Gate of Babylon is a formidable obstacle. You and Saber should leave it to me, Rider.”

“Oh, hunger for a shot at the King of Heroes yourself? Why Archer, I’m pleased to see you have such pride.”

“Not at all” Archer corrected immediately. “But the two of you, however skilled you may be, will be unable to surpass his onslaught. I, on the other hand, have a way around it.”

Ruby’s eyes widened in realization. “Your Reality Marble!”

“Indeed. When fully active, it is a perfect counter to Gilgamesh’s favorite tactic.” Archer frowned. “The bigger problem is his Sword of Rupture. If he pulls that out, we’re finished.”

“Finished? Hardly” Rider exclaimed. “That trinket of his is powerful, but I don’t think he’ll bother using it against you until it’s too late. Though, if you want to be sure, we could always run some simulations…”

“We’re not buying the game.”

“Aww, come now! This is actively hindering our war effort!”

Ruby couldn’t help but chuckle. The two Servants may have been a handful, but they were both also genius strategists and loyal allies. And with their help, maybe they could defeat the undefeatable King of Heroes.

Now if only the people in the marketplace would stop staring.

“Let’s just find Jaune and Mordred. With any luck, they’ll have attracted less attention than you two.”

 

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****

Mordred didn’t know how she wasn’t attracting attention. Back in her time, tailors could take weeks, sometimes months to make lavish garments and rarely for a small fee. But here, in this section of the Mistral bazaar, each and every stall had a more massive assortment than the last. The articles were as varied as the colors of sunset, coming in shades from father’s regal blue to Jaune’s preferred white and gold and her own luscious red. The styles consisted of both the standard shirts and pants she’d seen from her master as well as more extravagant and flowing garments similar to Ren’s robes.

Mordred was never one who would be called a fashionista (hadn’t that been a weird word to get from the grail), but now that Yang Xiao-Long had recalled her jacket (which should have rightfully been _hers_ by that point. She had been wearing it for months) she needed to acquire new civilian clothes. Well, less needed and more wanted to. Neither her armor nor her other garments were likely to catch much attention on Remnant, but she still felt the need to wear something. The King of Conquerors was wearing clothes of this era and she would not be outdone by that oaf.

To that end, she had picked out a pair of short jean pants, a tube top shirt, and a brilliant crimson jacket. True it was more revealing than was becoming of a knight, but the clothing she wore under her armor wasn’t much more conservative. Besides, she had decided to stop trying to live up to the King of Knights and just be herself, which meant doing what felt right to her. And even with Avalon and Excalibur strapped to her side, her clothes just felt right to her.

 _“Are you sure that’s what you want?”_ Jaune inquired mentally, off at another stand, getting more items from Archer’s shopping lists.

Mordred rolled her eyes. _‘Yes, master, I’m sure. What’s your problem with them anyway?’_

_“No problem. They’re just a bit revealing. People will stare. Especially guys.”_

“I wish.” Mordred snorted. “I’ve been standing here for ages and no one’s even glanced my way.”

_“It’s been fifteen minutes. And aren’t you a man? Why do you want other guys scouting you out like some piece of meat?”_

“As long as they can recognize quality product, who am I to keep them from an eyeful? Not like they can get anything more without my permission.” Mordred explained, smacking a fist into her palm. She raised an eyebrow and cocked a smirk. “Wait, master. Don’t tell me you’re worried about me.”

_“We’re family, Mordred. That means you have to deal with overprotective little brother mode.”_

Mordred chuckled. “Idiot. As if there was anything you could protect me from that I couldn’t handle myself.”

_“Never said it was effective. Just that you’d have to deal with it.”_

“Try it and I’ll punch you in the face.”

_“So… business as usual.”_

“Got that… right?” Mordred paused as she felt someone watching her. She didn’t sense another Servant, but if Assassin was present, she wouldn’t feel him until it was too late.

Her eyes darted across the marketplace, scanning for the observer. She didn’t summon her armor, if its sudden materialization sparked a panic in the crowd, it would only lead to civilians being in harm’s way if it came to a fight. She just had to make sure—

“Mommy?”

Mordred whirled around on the squeaky voice, ready to annihilate the fool who’d referred to her as a woman.

Only to halt herself when she came face to face with a little girl.

The child was shorter than her, likely around ten years old, twelve at most. Her pale blonde hair was cut right above the shoulder, though it looked wilder than something that was normally worn that long. It must have been grown out quite a bit just to get that far. There was a tiny scar on her bottom lip, maybe from battle, or more likely from something silly given her age. Her ocean blue eyes shined wet with tears, though even still there was a tinge of strange familiarity in those azure orbs.

And her face… there was something about her face… as if it would be noble if it wasn’t so screwed with euphoric happiness.

Mordred cringed under the unknown child’s heartfelt gaze. “Um, hello… little one?”

The girl’s wide smile erupted like the shining sun. “Mommy!”

She rushed in and before Mordred knew it, her legs were enveloped in a hug.

_‘Oh no.’_

_“What? What’s wrong Mordred?”_

_‘Nothing’s wrong, master. Just some little blonde girl hugging me for some reason. She thinks I’m her mom.’_

_“She thinks you’re…”_

_…_

_‘Master?’_

_“The girl… does she have a scar on her lip? One that looks like she tried to eat a stapler?”_

Mordred raised an eyebrow. _‘Yeah. How do you know what it’s from?’_

_“Later. I’m on my way. Do not let the girl out of your sight.”_

_‘Augh! Fine. But you better have a good explanation for this.’_

“I knew you were alright, Mommy! I just knew it!” the little girl declared as she squeezed Mordred’s leg even tighter.

The Knight of Treachery didn’t know how to react. She was never the biggest fan of children, the brats were loud, squeaky, and annoying. But they were also innocent, and the code of chivalry demanded she protect them with all her might. Besides, she remembered her own despairing youth and didn’t want any other to experience her lonely time.

She tentatively patted the child on the head and tried to extract her from around her leg without hurting her with her immense strength. “Um… listen… little girl. I’m not sure who you think I am, but I’m not your—”

“Amber!”

Another woman emerged from the crowd and rushed over, this one tall, easily in her early to mid-twenties. She rushed over to the little girl and tugged her off Mordred’s leg, taking the child in her arms. “I told you not to run off, Amber. And you don’t grab strangers.”

“But it’s not a stranger, Sapphire.” the girl insisted. “It’s mommy! She’s back!”

The woman, Sapphire, sighed. She turned her head to Mordred. “I’m terribly sorry about my sister. She’s not normally… mom.”

Under normal circumstances, Mordred would have punched the woman for that comment, but she was just as distracted by the older sister’s face as Sapphire was apparently by hers. While Amber’s features were still forming in the mercurial pit of childhood, Sapphire’s were fully formed and who she resembled was obvious.

The chin was a bit wider. The brow was a bit higher. But the nobility, the beauty, it was all there.

It wasn’t the near copy nature of Mordred’s face, but this Sapphire still possessed an uncanny resemblance to the King of Knights.

“Who are you?” Mordred whispered.

Her words seemed to snap Sapphire out of whatever trance she’d been in. The woman blinked rapidly and shook her head.

“See? I told you.” Amber gloated.

“Not now, Amber.” Sapphire reprimanded. She returned her gaze to Mordred. “I’m so sorry. My sister and I, we lost our mother recently and… well, you have some resemblance.”

“You don’t say,” Mordred muttered, her eyes still scanning the two girls.

Jaune’s familiarity with the younger… the resemblance to the King of Knights…

Were these…

“I’m so sorry. That’s no excuse for grabbing you like that.” Sapphire pushed on. “We’ll just be going now. We should be getting back home anyway.”

“Wait! Sapphire, we have to take mommy back to the others!” Amber demanded.

“Amber, please, this not the— Jaune!”

Mordred’s master chose that moment to rush into the scene. His eyes fervently scanned the surroundings until they landed on Amber. The little girl’s eyes widened. “Jaune!”

“Nice of you to show up, master,” Mordred said. “Care for that explanation?”

Jaune didn’t seem to hear her, sighing in relief as the sight of Amber. “Amber, thank goodness. What are you doing here?”

“She needed new clothes,” Sapphire stated bluntly, her own gaze locked on Jaune.

Jaune’s eyes widened in panic. “Sapphire! Hi! What a coincidence, meeting you here…”

“So, I take it you know these people, master?” Mordred deduced, an idea of their identities already forming in her head.

“Master?” Sapphire exclaimed.

“Saber this is not the time.” Jaune hissed angrily.

“Saber? That’s dad’s pet name for… Jaune, what’s going on?” Sapphire demanded. “Where have you been? Who is this?”

Jaune sighed. “Well… to make a long story sort… you’re not the oldest anymore. Sapphire, Amber, meet Mordred, mom’s first kid.”

“Mom’s… what?”

That was all the confirmation Mordred needed. Jaune had never said their names, but he had mentioned them on multiple occasions.

These were two of his sisters. These were two of the children of Nicholas Arc.

The children of the King of Knights.

Her siblings.


	48. Discussions, Calming and Frightening

To say Qrow was surly was to say that Atlas was a bit chilly.

Qrow was _livid_.

Glynda could be stingy sometimes and Ironwood never saw a problem he thought couldn’t be solved by throwing tin cans at it, but for the love of the gods, they were _loyal_. They knew what was at stake and put everything they had into defending the world so that innocent people could live their lives in blissful ignorance of the true horrors that hunted for them. No matter their disagreements, Qrow would gladly lay down his life for either of them and he had no doubt that they would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

He had thought the same of Lionheart.

They’d fought together, drunk together. No matter Ironwood’s suspicions of inadequacy, Qrow had always stuck up for the lion faunus, declaring that he was up to the challenge of their little mission and praising his dedication to his students. He’d been thrilled when Ozpin had sent him the Spring Maiden, pleased that Jimmy wouldn’t get the chance to turn her into another one of his military brats. Boy wasn’t that a mistake. Maybe if the girl had gone to Atlas she wouldn’t have ended up with Raven.

Leo had never been the same after that. The skittish tendencies he’d previously kept in check, exploded. Before long, he rarely left Haven’s walls, his reports to Ozpin filled with fear and terror with few suggestions of possible solutions.

Qrow had known something was up, but he never suspected his old friend had sold out every human and faunus on the planet.

And that was what infuriated Qrow the most. First Raven, and now Lionheart, it seemed he just kept judging people wrong. People he’d once trusted with his life, people he should have known like the back of his hand, were turning on him left and right and he kept falling for it. And if he fell for it, the people he protected, Ruby, Yang, and their friends, would be left vulnerable.

He couldn’t let that happen. Summer was dead and Taiyang wasn’t too far from joining her. Taking care of the kids was his responsibility now.

And bad luck or not, he could not fail.

He flew into the courtyard of the safehouse, the cliff overlooking the vast city below. Normally the compound’s closeness to Haven would be an advantage, but with Lionheart against them, Qrow knew they needed to find another place to stay as soon as possible. They had a bit of time since Leo didn’t know they knew, but eventually, he’d catch onto the fact that something was off. A shame, the place had a hell of a view, perfect for taking in the sunset.

Or training, as its current occupant could attest to.

Lie Ren swept through the practice ground like a man possessed. His pistol daggers carved through the air with the speed of a Beowolf’s claws, trails of razor wind blowing in their wake. Each slice was punctuated by a feral howl escaping the boy’s lips.

Normally, Qrow wouldn’t spare the matter a thought. Everyone needed to blow off some steam now and again, just because the kid was usually quiet didn’t preclude him from that. He was allowed to get angry.

But when his entire body was dulled in shades of black and gray, a clear mark of his emotion suppressing semblance, it was a bad sign that his turmoil was coming through nonetheless. Maybe the trick was less effective when he used it on himself. Maybe not. Either way, whatever was troubling the kid was serious.

Qrow had been a pretty terrible teacher at Signal. Ruby had turned out alright, but she had been more of an outlier among the rest of his students. Still, he couldn’t very well leave Ren to wallow.

He flew up to the boy and transformed back into a human just as the boy threw a punch. He reached up and caught the blow in his palm. “I think the air gives up, kid.”

Ren’s eyes widened. He withdrew his arm and sheathed his weapons at his sides. He bowed. “Qrow, my apologies. I didn’t see you there.”

“Really? Here I thought you could sense emotions.” Qrow snarked. He glanced about, noting the glaring lack of a hyperactive ginger with a giant hammer. “Where’s your friend? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you too apart for more than a trip to the bathroom.”

Ren looked away. “I asked Nora for some time alone.”

“And she let you?”

“She didn’t like it, but she agreed in the end. I think she’s helping Oscar get back on his feet.” Ren noted. “He’s inside if you need to speak to Ozpin.”

“Good to know,” Qrow remarked. “But I actually wanted to talk to you for a bit.”

Ren cocked an eyebrow. “Me? Why?”

“Call it veteran’s intuition, you seem a bit off,” Qrow observed. “Belladonna said Kuroyuri was your hometown and that that Nuckelavee we fought there destroyed it.”

“It did,” Ren confirmed, his words clipped. “It also killed my parents. But it’s dead now. I’m fine. Just because you guys don’t see me practicing as often as the others doesn’t mean I’m struggling when you do.”

“No, but your little Lancelot impression sure does.” Qrow countered. “Especially when that semblance of yours can’t contain it.”

Ren glared at the elder huntsman. He sucked in a deep breath, his pink eyes focused like amethyst spotlights. The intense scrutiny might have frightened most people.

But Qrow had faced down Servants. His crimson gaze didn’t waver.

Ren sighed and looked away. “For years, that… _thing_ has haunted my dreams. Nora and I specifically went to Beacon instead of Haven so we could stay as far away from it as possible. For years, I thought the only way to survive was to run, to make sure it could never get close enough to hurt the people I love ever again. And then, Mordred gave me hope. She decided we would kill it. Her confidence… she seemed so sure.”

“She had good reason,” Qrow assured him. Even weakened as she was, there was no question that Mordred could have beaten the Nuckelavee. No Grimm could defeat a Servant.

“No doubt.” Ren concurred. “We went back, to those ruins. That graveyard. It all came back to me. All the screams. I had to be the one to end it. I had to be the one to kill it. Mordred agreed. It seemed like everything was going to go perfectly, and then… and then Lancer Alter killed it. He fell from the sky and annihilated it without even trying.”

Qrow frowned. He was slowly getting an idea of what this was about.

“You got the final blow of the mutated one though.” he pointed out. “You killed the Arma Nuckelavee.”

“What does that matter?” Ren snarled. “My parents… my village… I needed to avenge them. I needed to kill it, and instead, that Servant crushed it like nothing. All my suffering, all my nightmares, and the root of it all was brushed away in the time it took to blink. The victory I hadn’t even dared to fantasize about—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, kid.” Qrow cut in. He slapped a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “Killing that monster, even if you got the original, it would never have been some grand victory. That Grimm killed your parents, but at the end of the day, it’s just another Grimm. It’s mindless. It didn’t have any wicked plan for killing your village, it just did it because that’s what Grimm do. It’s what Salem made them to do. And at the end of the day, unless we win this Grail War, there is always going to be another one.”

“So there’s no point? We can’t win?”

“We win by surviving.” Qrow declared. “We win by saving as many people as we can. We win by telling Salem to shove her monsters where the sun don’t shine and living the life we want to, no matter the danger. We win by living.”

He felt sorry for the kid. He’d spent so long pushing down his fears about the Nuckelavee, all that pent-up emotion had transformed into unrealistic expectations of hope when he’d finally gained a chance at destroying the monster from his nightmares. And when those expectations were crushed, he shut down even worse than he must have when he’d first seen the Grimm.

That must have been the reason he hadn’t noticed his partner’s obvious crush on him before, and why he was resisting her attempts to help him now.

Ren looked down at his hands. “Live? What does it matter if we live? What does it matter that we’re here when they are people who can level mountains with a wave of their hand? How can we make any difference against Salem when she has people like Lancer Alter at her command?”

“A reasonable question, young master Ren.”

Both Ren and Qrow turned towards the house. Ozpin trotted out, cane and coffee cup in hand. He gazed at Ren with concerned, understanding eyes. Even though he knew who was in the driver’s seat, Qrow still found it a bit off-putting to see such a look on one so young.

Ozpin came up to Ren. “You are correct that the odds against us are severe. Salem has always been an exceptionally powerful foe and her acquisition of Servants has only made her more dangerous. In the sense of direct combat, it is unlikely that anyone save for Ms. Rose, and perhaps Mr. Arc and Ms. Valkyrie will be able to do anything against them.”

“Then why am I here?” Ren asked hopelessly. “If I can’t help them, if I just drag them down, maybe they’d be better off without me. Without a failure.”

“Well, excuse me for saying this, my young student, but that is frankly ridiculous," Ozpin declared. “Aside from the fact that Ms. Valkyrie would likely kill us all if you left, you are not a failure. You do not possess the raw power of your comrades, true, but power is not the end all be all of war. If it was, Salem would have won an eon ago. You cannot face a Servant, but you are far from useless. In time, you will see what you can do in this conflict.”

“And until then?”

Ozpin smiled, a tinge of regret on his face. “Live, Ren. The world may end tomorrow, but today it still spins. Spend time with what, or rather _who_ , you love.”

A pointed tip of the head towards the house made it clear who he was referring to.

Ren gazed over, then looked at his hands. They tensed up for a moment, then fell to his sides. Color returned to his body.

“Thank you, professors.”

Qrow smirked. “Don’t call me a professor, kid. Makes me feel old.”

“Perhaps simply experienced.” the boy replied.

He walked off into the house while Qrow was still trying to figure out if that was a compliment or a jab.

Ozpin chuckled at his lieutenant’s confusion. “We are quite experienced, old friend.”

“You are,” Qrow snorted. “I’m still a roguish upstart.”

“As you wish.”

Both men shared a light chuckle.

Qrow stared at Ozpin, Oscar’s youthful body somewhat decreasing his old image as the omniscient ancient wizard. Sure, he had never known everything, but the idea he projected had still been reassuring in the grind of the fight with Salem.

“Hey, Oz, that living stuff?” Qrow inquired. “Where did that come from?”

Ozpin had never been some micromanaging overload, but he had always made it clear the immense threat they were facing and the sacrifice that would be required to face it. It was one of the reasons Summer had kept doing missions for him even after she’d returned with Ruby. Well, that and her inexhaustible desire to help people and become a hero.

But then again, Qrow remembered the outburst the old man had had when Arturia had confronted him about asking Nikos to be the Fall Maiden. He’d never heard the desperation in Oz’s voice before. But he had no doubt it was always there. Every second of every day, flooding the wizard’s mind with the apocalyptic fate of everything should he waver for even a moment. His old student had simply brought it to the forefront.

Ozpin smiled sadly. “Living for the war… it hasn’t seemed to work out for those I’ve asked it of. One way or another, I sense we are nearing the end. And I would very much like my students to be as happy as they can be before it arrives.” He turned to Qrow. “I’m sorry for keeping that from you, old friend.”

Qrow waved him off. “I’m an adult, Oz. I was when you asked me to join this shitshow, and I am now. I make my own choices.”

He’d been born a bandit, a killer of innocents. In that world, the strong lived and the weak died. But then he went to Beacon, and with the help of his team, he’d learned what it’d really meant to be strong, to fight for the good of all, even those who’d never know your name. Sure, it wasn’t the easiest life, but it was the one he’d chosen.

And no matter Ozpin’s worries, it was far from joyless. He’d had Summer. He’d had Tai. He’d even had Raven for a while.

But best of all, he’d had Ruby and Yang. He’d watched them grow, played video games, made dinner, and taught them every lesson he’d learned, both of responsibility and irresponsibility.

Those years, watching them grow up, were the best time of his life.

Now, they were embroiled in the Holy Grail War. He couldn’t fight the battle for them. But he’d be damned if he let them fight it alone.

“Come on,” he ordered, starting towards the house. “Let’s figure out how to pay Leo back for his loyalty.”

****

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****

When the group had gotten to Mistral, Jaune had expected ancient conspiracies, warriors of legend, and eldritch abominations. He’d been terrified, who wouldn’t be, but he had had faith that with Mordred and his friends by his side, they would all be able to get out just fine and maybe even save the world along the way.

What he hadn’t expected was to run into his sisters. Now, there was no way on Remnant he was getting out alive.

He’d been shocked when he’d recognized Amber, the youngest of the seven and one of only two he was older than, from Mordred’s brief description. He’d prayed that he was wrong, that his family was still safe back in Ansel. There were probably a lot of blonde little girls with scars are their lips, right? Still, he’d needed to be sure and he’d known it was her the moment he laid eyes on her. As well as the very angry Sapphire beside her.

His eldest sister was exactly as he remembered her, caring yet utterly terrifying. Her blonde hair was wrapped into a simple ponytail in contrast to their mother’s imperial bun, but at that moment he couldn’t distinguish between their glares of disapproval.

Eight kids had been far more than his parents had been expecting, despite their rampant _activities_ , and though they certainly did better they most people would expect, even the King of Knights had needed a little help keeping order among her spawn. Sapphire, being the oldest, had stepped up to be the sub-mother of sorts, acting as arbiter in any disagreements that they were all too scared to bring before their parents.

And with mom gone, she had probably stepped up even more.

Which was probably why he found her more terrifying than Lancer Alter.

Thankfully, he had managed to forestall her hail of questions until they’d moved into a deserted alley. No point causing a scene in public, especially when the other masters were probably looking for them. He’d shot Ruby a scroll message of their location and a brief explanation. Then, he turned to his waiting siblings and prepared to bite the bullet.

“Sapphire, look, I’m sorry—”

He didn’t get to finish before she enveloped him in a hug. For a few seconds, he didn’t know how to respond. Mordred raised an eyebrow at him and all he could do was shrug.

Then, Sapphire pulled back and glared at him with absolute fury on her face. Jaune got very uncomfortable flashbacks to when his mother had come to get him at Beacon. Heartwarming relief followed by lots and lots of righteous fury.

“You. Stupid. Moron.” She hissed viciously, emphasizing each word with a point of her finger. “You run off without a word—”

“I left a note.” he protested feebly.

“—and the first sign of you we get in months is you fighting Grimm on the news.” she pushed through. “Mom went to go get you and then suddenly Beacon gets attacked by terrorists and you sent a _letter_. Saying that mom was _dead_. And now, you’re here with someone who looks just like her, saying that she’s our older sister!”

“Brother.” Jaune corrected, hoping his Servant wouldn’t blow up. Fortunately, though Mordred narrowed her eyes, she was much too distracted by Amber’s confused and tearful gaze to attack Sapphire.

“Ugh!”

Sapphire took a deep breath. This was just like her. Whether it was Coral’s inappropriate fanfiction or Jade and Hazel’s constant pranks, Sapphire always had a breaking point. But she was also very good at taking whatever space was offered her and putting herself back together. Mom always seemed to praise that about her.

When she faced Jaune again, her gaze was still furious, but her voice had calmed down. “Jaune, what the hell is going on? Why are you in Mistral with a gi… boy who looks just like mom and calls you ‘master’?”

“And why are you calling her daddy’s name for mommy when he thinks we’re not around?” Amber added.

Jaune’s eyes went wide. “What?!? No! No, it is not like that at all. Amber, she’s our sibling. We are not… What are _you_ guys doing here? Why aren’t you back in Ansel with the others?”

“The others are here too,” Sapphire revealed. “After your letter arrived and everything that happened at the Vytal Festival, dad didn’t think Ansel was safe anymore. He said that we needed the protection of one of the kingdoms’ capitals.”

“And he chose Mistral?” Jaune responded incredulously. He could understand not going to Vale since it was still vulnerable from the Fall, and Vacuo was hardly what anyone would call a safe haven, but he’d specifically told his father that the war was headed towards Haven.

“We were trying to get to Atlas.” Sapphire elaborated. “Even after their machines opened fire at the Vytal Festival, dad didn’t think they were responsible for what happened. He said the person who made the speech, the woman behind that black queen symbol, was probably the one pulling the strings. We were here for a layover, but our flight was canceled when Atlas closed its borders. We’ve been trying to scrape together enough money to get back ever since.”

Atlas had closed its borders? Had General Ironwood been that rattled by what had happened in Vale? Or was Weiss’ kidnapping responsible? They might not have heard about it due to the international CCT being down, but the loss of the Schnee heiress must have sent shockwaves throughout Atlas. If Ironwood knew about the Holy Grail War, and being a member of Ozpin’s circle he probably did, then he must have been terrified if he knew Caster was involved in the incident. Jaune couldn’t blame him for doing whatever he could to protect his people, even if those actions had unintentionally put his family in the worst possible kingdom for them to be in.

Still, that raised the question or how much his sisters knew about the current conflict. He still didn’t know exactly how much his mom had told his father about her true nature, or what he had, in turn, told his sisters.

“Did dad… did he show you my letter?” Jaune inquired. “Did he explain what the Holy Grail War is?”

“He said a bunch of heroes get brought to life to decide who gets to make a wish!” Amber declared, preening with pride at having remembered the information. “Like a Spruce Willis movie!”

Sapphire cringed at their sister’s display. “He tried to. But Jaune… what he was talking about… it’s ridiculous. He’s still dealing with mom being gone, it can’t be true. Mom wasn’t some… fairy tale.”

“Father was more than a fairy tale,” Mordred stated. “He was a legend.”

“Father?!?”

“We are not opening that can of worms right now!” Jaune proclaimed. “Sapphire, I know how crazy it sounds, but it's true. It’s all true.”

“How Jaune?” Sapphire asked desperately. “I know you’re not lying, I’ve heard you do that enough to know you’re not, but this… this is insane. Ancient heroes, a wish-granting cup, another world!”

“That last one was actually a mistake on mom’s part. The heroes actually come from the distant past, but mom didn’t realize it was the same… you know that’s not important.” Jaune turned to Mordred. “Can you show them without drawing in anybody else?”

Mordred shrugged. “I can limit the radius of my power. If they’re close by, they’ll know we’re here, but I should be able to work it—”

A swarm of azure sparks appeared in the alley and materialized into Archer.

Mordred’s face fell. “Or the Jester could do it. A poor man’s substitute, but I suppose it works.”

Amber gaped at the new arrival, the young girl’s oceanic eyes lost on the visage of the tall, silver-haired man who’d appeared out of thin air.

Sapphire took several steps back in shock. Her hand rose to her mouth. “It’s real. It’s all real.”

 Archer narrowed his eyes, not unkindly at Sapphire. “ _Saber_?”

“Archer, what are you doing here?” Jaune demanded. “I told Ruby I’d come find you guys.”

Archer wrenched his eyes away from Sapphire and shrugged at the male Arc, settling back into his usual calm persona. “She was worried there was foul play at work. Scrolls can be stolen, some Servants can control minds, there were too many possible subversions for her not to verify your message. Can you blame her? Who’d think we’d find the rest of King Arthur’s children here?”

“King… Arthur…” Sapphire whispered.

“Mommy’s bedtime stories!” Amber squealed. “They are all heroes! Are you one of the Knights of the Round Table? Is mommy Queen Guinevere? When is she going to come back from being blue dust?”

Archer blinked at the young child. He opened his mouth to respond, but when he looked into Amber’s worshipping eyes, he shut it before any words passed his lips. He turned away from her. “I’ll go inform the others you’re alright.”

The red-cloaked man disappeared into spirit form.

Jaune raised an eyebrow in confusion. Ruby was close enough for Archer to contact her through their telepathic link, and the Servant of the Bow had shown no hesitance in using the mental connection before. Normally, he would remain and observe Jaune’s conversation so he could determine how best to benefit them from it or when to interject his own thoughts. It was highly unusual for him to retreat entirely. He knew he was friends with his mom during her life, but his reaction to his sisters still felt off, almost… more.

Mordred gestured to the departing Servant. “So yeah, Servants can do that. The good ones can also level cities.”

Jaune held up his right hand, his two remaining Command Seals shining like arcs of blood. “Each Servant is commanded by a master. I’m Saber’s and my friends are also in charge of Archer and Rider. There’s a lot to get into, but the long and the short of it is that we’re trying to save the world.”

Sapphire put her hand on her forehead. “How… King Arthur… first kid… you’re… our brother?”

“Mordred. Nice to meet you, sis.” the Knight of Treachery introduced herself nonchalantly.

Amber rushed up to her and started jumping around like she was on a sugar rush. “I’m Amber. That’s Sapphire. The others are back at the house. Well, daddy is on a mission, but you can meet the rest of our sisters! Oh, but Lavender gets sick really easily, so make sure you wash your hands before you go see her. We need to kill the germs before they get to her.”

Mordred cocked an eyebrow. She raised her hands. Crimson lightning flashed across her palms. “Flash fried. That good enough for you?”

“Woooaah!” Amber’s eyes shone with sparkles. “That’s awesome!”

Mordred blinked for a second. A proud smirk crossed her face. “Huh. Yeah. I guess I am awesome.”

“Yeah,” Amber concurred. Her mouth widened in realization. “Ooo… do you think mom can teach me how to do that?”

Mordred’s face fell. There was a trace of her usual annoyance at Arturia being brought up in her presence, but mostly, Jaune recognized awkward confusion, the same that was probably playing off his own face.

Sapphire kneeled down to their little sister’s level. “Amber, you know what dad said. Mom’s… mom’s gone.”

Amber frowned. “He was wrong. Jaune’s here, he got out of Vale, and mom’s a million times tougher than him. Mom made it out, she’s just off on a heroic quest, like in the stories. Right Jaune?”

Jaune didn’t know what to say. He wanted to lie. He wanted to tell his sister that of course mom was fine. She would come back any day, fresh from single-handedly slaughtering Salem.

But he couldn’t. Mom was gone. He had accepted it. He’d had to. But faced with Amber’s desperate face, he found that words failed him.

He could only shake his head.

“No.” Amber whimpered, tears clouding her eyes. “No. No, you’re lying! Mom… mom’s invincible! She can’t… she can’t be…

Sapphire engulfed her in a tight hug. “Amber…”

“She not _dead_!”

Amber broke down in Sapphire’s arms, waterfalls flooding from her eyes.

“She’s not! She’s not! She’s not, she’s not, she’s _not…_ ”

Jaune could only watch. He’d known this would happen the moment he’d decided to dedicate his wish towards stopping Salem. He’d known what he’d resigned his family to. He knew it was the right choice. He would do it. He had no regrets.

No regrets…

None at all.

_“Master?”_

Jaune gulped. _‘Yeah, Mordred.’_

_“When you summoned me, you mistook me for father.”_

_‘Yeah, you guys look a lot alike. I’m not surprised Amber made the same mistake. She probably ignored all the little differences so she could see what she wanted to see.’_

_“Were you… were you trying to summon father? So that they wouldn’t have to let her go?”_

A tear dripped down Jaune’s face. _‘I was.’_

Mordred frowned and looked down at her feet.

_“I’m sorry. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have to—”_

_‘It’s not your fault.’_ Jaune cut her off. _‘You have no more control over who gets summoned than I do. This… this is just what happened. Besides, if I had summoned mom, I would have never met you. And that would have been just as bad.’_

_…_

_“Thank you, master,”_ Mordred replied. _“Still, I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”_

Jaune chuckled brokenly. “So do I, Mordred. So do I.”

 

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****

Ruby waited with bated breath as Archer returned. Yang and Rider were combing the immediate area for their friends, but she had been confident that her Servant would be the one to locate them.

“Well?” she inquired fretfully. “Is he okay?”

Archer looked away. “His message was real. As for if he is okay, I do not know. In my experience, sibling reunions are rarely so simple.”

Ruby sighed. She hated that she couldn’t be sure if Jaune’s message was real but come on! His family just happened to be in Mistral and they just happened to run into them in the marketplace! What were the odds? It seemed way more likely like someone had stolen his scroll or was holding him at gunpoint or mind controlling him.

…

And she was considering mind control as a legitimate possibility. She missed the days before the Holy Grail War.

Still, it was a relief that Jaune was okay. And hey, this meant they’d both been reunited with their sisters, so that was good. Right?

Except now he had to tell them about…

“Do they know?” Ruby asked. “About Arturia?”

Archer sighed and nodded. “He was telling them of her true nature when I arrived. From what I could tell, the older one at least already knew of her passing. The younger… even if she did know, I believe she was in denial.”

“Makes sense,” Ruby remarked. “I didn’t want to believe my mom was dead when she died.”

“I could not remember mine when she died,” Archer revealed. “I cast away everything in the fire: my memories, my guilt, myself. My parents, the ones who gave birth to me, I didn’t feel anything for them afterward. It was impossible to mourn for those I couldn’t even remember. And when Kiritsugu died… I was grieved but determined.”

“Determined?”

“I had the dream by then. I mourned his passing by I knew what I needed to do. I wasn’t disoriented like most children who lose their parents,” he elaborated. “Though admittedly, I was far more unfocused then. I wouldn’t know how to truly actualize my dream into reality, or what I thought was reality at least, until I met Saber.”

Ruby nodded. Though she had grieved far more, she did remember her mother’s death as the moment where her path as a huntress was set. When her desire to feel near to her again mixed with her quest to help others. It was silly. She would never see Summer Rose again, not in this life at least. If only Archer was so lucky with Kiritsugu.

“What do you think will happened?” she inquired. “When you see him again, I mean.”

Archer shrugged. “In all likelihood, we won’t. Kiritsugu Emiya has been summoned in the Assassin Class, which Kirei Kotomine has ample experience wielding. I wouldn’t be surprised we were dead before we even knew we were being attacked.”

“No.” Ruby shook her head. “Kirei… he wants to fight me. He said he wants me to be a hero, to have everything going my way so that he can bring the world crashing down around me. If he tries to kill me, he’ll let me see him first.”

“Fair enough,” Archer hummed. “He’ll let you see him and then have Kiritsugu Emiya shoot you in the back.”

“Do you have to say his full name every time you talk about him? He is your dad.”

“You underestimate Kirei.” Archer pushed on, ignoring the mention of Kiritsugu. “He will never lie to you, but that doesn’t mean he’s above letting you think you know the truth. He’s an expert at controlling what information people think they know, all without saying a word. Just because he’ll let you see him doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you looking at something else.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes. “So, he’ll let me think I know what’s going to happen… he’ll let me think everything is going to plan…”

That was just like him. All the time she had known him at Beacon, he’d never told her anything about Cinder’s plans. Yet, the moment she’d thought to ask, he’d spilled everything about his partner’s plot in an instant. But even then, he’d left out his own plans for the beginning of the Holy Grail War. He’d taken advantage of the fact that she didn’t know to ask the right questions so he could feign honesty. It was despicable.

And yet… the more she thought about it… wasn’t she doing the same thing?

Jaune thought their plan was to get the grail and use it to destroy Salem. And it was. No matter what, they would destroy the Queen of the Grimm.

But that wasn’t the only facet of _her_ plan anymore. Sure, she had no intention to hide it from him, she’d been worried enough about getting Yang’s approval, but the more she thought about it, she should have told them both together. Same with Mordred and Iskandar. They were all a team. They couldn’t afford to let secrets tear them apart. No matter how much she feared their reactions, they at least deserved the chance to voice their thoughts.

Right, as soon as Jaune wasn’t dealing with the whole ‘his family appeared out of nowhere thing’, she would tell him about her plan to use both her own and Archer’s wish. Hopefully, he and Mordred would be alright with helping her save her father, and Yang could convince Iskandar to do the same.

Somehow.

Some way.

…

…

…

No one said the third option would be easy.

 

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****

Blake had hoped gathering reinforcements would be easier.

“What the hell, Neptune?” Sun chastised over his scroll. “I went to your house but you weren’t there… I didn’t call you first because I was out of range of Haven’s CCT for months and I forgot, alright… okay, taking Sage and Scarlet on a vacation isn’t the worst idea for getting over the Fall… look, just get back to the city as soon as you can. There is something really important going on. Like really important. No, it is not…” Sun sent an awkward look towards Blake, a crimson blush lighting his cheeks. “It is not that… Yes, she’s here… Look, just get back as soon as you can, alright!”

He ended the call and shook his head. The two of them walked into a lustrous public park. The entire emerald field was dotted with wooden tables and families on picnic blankets. “Seriously, I love Neptune like a brother, but sometimes he can just be so dumb.”

Blake chuckled. “I know the feeling.”

The two of them had tried to track down the rest of Team SSSN to no avail. After Neptune’s house had turned up empty, and his parents had quite curtly informed them he hadn’t been home for days, Sun felt the need to call his partner just to make sure he wasn’t out getting groceries or something. Apparently, while Neptune himself held no grudge against the faunus, his parents were not so tolerant, even of their son’s partner.

That was something Blake was noticing more and more. While discrimination, or at least public discrimination, had been frowned upon in Vale, in Mistral there was little attempt to hide it. They couldn’t go three feet without seeing a sign over a restaurant, or a bathroom, or even a water fountain, that stated quite clearly ‘ _No Faunus Allowed_ ’. All along the street, bystanders shot them dirty looks or fearful stares. Blake didn’t know if it was because the White Fang had a stronger presence in Mistral or if the more noticeable prejudice caused the White Fang’s increased presence, but she found the situation infuriating for both the indignation and the familiarity. Part of her wished she’d kept wearing her bow.

Sun, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the stares. He put his hands behind his head and let out a massive yawn. “Well, I’m starving. Want to rustle up some lunch before we go looking for the other Haven teams?”

“How can you stand it?” Blake asked.

“Stand what?”

“Being here. When we first met, you didn’t seem like you knew anything about the White Fang or the struggles of the faunus,” Blake recalled. “But you’re surrounded by prejudice.”

“I’m not surrounded by prejudice,” Sun argued. “Lionheart’s a faunus, and he’s a freaking headmaster.”

“Because Ozpin chose him in his last life.” Blake pointed out. “But all around here, you can’t eat where you want, sit where you want. You’re treated like a criminal. Everyone is against you just for being what you are!”

Sun shrugged. “Everyone’s always been against me. I grew up in Vacuo, remember? I’ve been treated like a criminal since I was six, which to be fair, I was by then. Wasn’t exactly a lot of food to go around. You either stole from the vendors or the other kids at the orphanage, and that made everybody suspicious of everybody. Along the way, I guess I just learned to deal. I made it out by going to Haven, and sure they’re still a bunch of people who’re jerks, but the ones that matter: Neptune, Scarlet, Sage, they don’t care about that stuff. And they’ve got my back against the idiots who do.”

Blake blinked rapidly at the blonde.

“What?” Sun exclaimed. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, no,” Blake assured him. “I just… I just never expected you to say something so… mature.”

“I am mature.” Sun declared proudly, a smug smile on his face.

Blake chuckled and playfully shoved her friend. “On occasion.”

Sun wiggled his eyebrows. “The right occasion?”

Blake wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She definitely felt something for Sun. Whenever she’d needed help, he’d always been there to give it. But so had Yang, and she was mostly sure her feelings for her partner were platonic. Then, there was whatever was going on with Lancer…

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “With everything that’s going on, the war, Salem, Weiss, I don’t think I can make that kind of decision right now. I’m sorry, Sun.”

Sun frowned for a moment, but only a moment. Then, his bright smile was back on his face. “No problem.”

Blake cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really. If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready. We’ll just have to win the war and save Weiss as fast as we can.”

Blake frowned. “And what if… what if I’m still not ready after that. After we win.”

That struck the grin from the blonde’s face. His gaze fell to his feet, his eyes broken like a kicked puppy.

He gulped. “Then… that’s alright. That’s not my choice. If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready.”

Blake nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Sun replied. “But Blake, even if you’re… not ready. Can we still… be friends? I get that you might not want to _be_ with me but you are still so amazing and smart and driven and… crap, I was going somewhere with this. Just, even if we’re not a thing, I still want you in my life—”

She cut off his rambling with a tight hug. After a moment of stunned stillness, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her form.

“Of course, we’ll still be friends, you idiot.” Blake declared. “We’ve survived literal black knights together. I don’t think that’s an experience you can go through and not be friends.”

Sun’s shining smile returned in full force. “Thank you. I know I can be a bit—”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Blake whispered. “It’s perfect as is.”

“I find I can’t agree with that sentiment.”

Blake’s eyes widened. She and Sun separated and whirled around towards the source of the very familiar and very terrifying voice.

There, sitting with perfect ladylike posture at a wooden table, was Weiss. Next to her was a slouching Lancer Alter, who shot them a merry wave.

“I really hate to be the overprotective teammate, but you deserve better Blake,” Weiss stated.

They needed to run. Without backup, she and Sun stood no chance against the blackened pair. If they tried to fight, they’d be annihilated. Blake looked Sun in the eye. He nodded. However fast Lancer Alter was if they used their clones and took off in opposite directions, at least one of them should have been able to get away and call for help.

Unfortunately, Weiss must have noticed their preparations. She raised a pale hand. Small black glyphs appeared above every blissfully ignorant family in the park.

Blake got the message. She lowered her head in defeat.

Weiss smiled. She reached down below the table and pulled out a large cooler. From it, she extracted a set of four paper plates and filled each one with… fish?

“What… what do you want, Weiss?” Blake inquired.

Weiss pouted. “Honestly, old friend, that’s what I’m trying to find out. But for now, I would be privileged if you and your little pet would join us for lunch.”


	49. The King's Children

Weiss had expected the fish to be a better icebreaker.

“Come on now Blake, take a bite.” she pouted. “Lancer and I spent all morning catching these fish.”

“I spent all morning catching them.” Cú Chulainn corrected her. “As I recall, you weren’t all that appreciative towards your catch—”

“Moving on!”

Weiss planted her elbows on top of the table. The park bench was rugged and crinkled from wear and tear, but at least the splinters were unable to penetrate her aura. Still, maybe Mistral should spend less money on high culture and more time on municipal maintenance. She would have chosen a different venue for her little chat with her teammate, but none of the high-class restaurants in the city allowed faunus and Lancer Alter’s tail gave off the wrong impression. It wasn’t like she was going to eat lunch without him, he did catch the food after all.

Strangely, Blake wasn’t digging in like she normally did when confronted with her favorite food. Weiss was a little offended. True, her cooking opportunities had been limited growing up, but she was certainly better than that crinkly old man back in Vale.

Maybe it was the company. Weiss sent a distasteful glance towards Sun Wukong. The blond monkey boy had dared to make such a proposition to _her_ teammate, as if he wasn’t present only because Blake was too compassionate for her own good. She really needed to learn when to cut her losses. And such a buffoon who couldn’t even be bothered to button his shirt was certainly a loss.

But no, Blake must have been used to his infernal presence by now. She was worried about something else. But what? The company was fine, she wasn’t killing anyone, Lancer Alter was flashing the most charming of his charming smiles, and she had prepared the food herself…

Oh.

Oh, she supposed that would be something Blake would be smart enough to consider.

“You don’t need to worry. The fish isn’t poisoned.” Weiss assured her old friend. “If I was going to kill you, I would do it myself.”

Strangely, Blake’s scowl deepened.

Okay, that didn’t work. Maybe she should focus on something else, push on with the conversation. A subject they were both connected to.

“I see your arms have healed nicely.” Weiss complimented. “Your aura must have truly increased in power since Beacon to have recovered so quickly. It’s impressive.”

It really was. Weiss’ power was boosted by the Queen, so such rapid regeneration was expected of her. But Blake was only a huntress, skilled but only slightly above average in terms of raw aura output. Healing her arms should have taken her a week at least, with more time spent reacclimating them for combat. To be back on her feet already was no minor feat.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Weiss, what’s all this about? What do you want?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. Really, do I have to repeat every explanation I give you guys?” Weiss sighed. “Specifically, though, I’m here to talk.”

“What happened to ‘gutting me like the animal I am’?”

Weiss shrugged. “Look how that turned out. Hell, I ended up pretty much talking my way through that anyway. And now… now I don’t know what to do.”

Blake glanced over the plates of fish. A reluctant smile fluttered over her lips. “A cry for help if I ever saw one.”

A chuckle escaped Weiss’ mouth at the memory of their talk in the noodle bar. “Indeed. I suppose Kirei was more of a mastermind than I gave him credit for. My apologies for misguiding you on the matter.”

Blake’s expression darkened. “Is he working with you? Did you send him after Yang? Did you know about what he did to her father?”

“He went after Yang? I thought he was into Ruby?” Weiss mused. “Strange. Though I can confirm that neither he nor his King of Heroes have any loyalty to the Queen. Whatever he did to Yang, it was his own doing.”

Blake nodded. “Good. If you did… I…”

“What? You’d never forgive me?”

“No. I would. What you’re doing now… it’s not your fault Weiss.” Blake assured her. “Salem… she’s controlling you. But she can’t bury you. I can tell my friend is still in there.”

Weiss smirked. “Thank you for that Blake. But you are mistaken. The Queen is not _controlling_ me. She has educated me, shown me the truth of the world. And for that tutelage, I will gladly help her bring about her will upon this world.”

**All the World’s Evils shall be All the World. And in it, all shall be one.**

_As it should be._

“Weiss, please. Think about what you’re saying.” Blake pleaded. “Salem’s plan, it will kill millions. She will slaughter every living creature on the planet.”

Weiss snorted. “Only most of them. The rest will know her blessing and construct a new, more honest society. It is unfortunate that not all will be able to bask in her shadow, but casualties are inevitable when bringing about true change. You of all people should know that, Blake.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sun demanded.

“Oh, come now, monkey. Are you really that stupid?” Weiss mocked. “Blake left the White Fang _after_ they turned to violence. She was one of the most prominent advocates of the change in the first place.”

Blake looked away. Her amber eyes narrowed in guilt. “I never intended for it to go this far. We were just supposed to defend ourselves. No one was supposed to die.”

“No one was supposed to die?” Lancer Alter laughed. “What did you expect to happen when you picked up a weapon? A few scratches here and there? You decided to go to war, not a playground scuffle.”

“We didn’t want anyone to kill anyone,” Blake argued vehemently. “They were burning our houses and lynching our people. What were we supposed to do?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand me.” Lancer Alter corrected. “I believe you made the right choice fighting back. If people felt strongly enough to attack you, they weren’t going to be swayed by mere words. But you were stupid to think no one would die. The moment you pick up a weapon to make war on someone else, only one of you can claim victory. It’s your duty against theirs, your conviction against their will. I faced both my best friend and my son on the battlefield, and I killed them both.”

Sun’s eyes went wide. Blake gasped. “You… why?”

“It was our duty to fight to the end.” Cu Chulainn stated simply. “Each of us knew only one of us could leave the battlefield alive and we accepted that. I would have been just as proud to have been slain by them as I was to slay them. That is what it means to be a warrior. Taking up a fight for a cause and then running away for fear of blood is cowardly.”

“That it is.” Weiss concurred. She hadn’t expected her Servant to get involved, but his anecdote seemed to have been helpful. Blake seemed quite unbalanced. Perhaps she would be more helpful in this state.

“But while you may be as foolishly optimistic as Ruby at times, you are no coward.” Weiss continued. “I mean, yes, you run away when you really shouldn’t, you abandon movements you started… okay so sometimes you can be a bit of a coward. But you are not without drive, without conviction. I have seen it. The moment you left the White Fang, you jumped right into being a huntress, because it would get you closer to achieving your dream. You know what you want.”

Blake’s mouth pursed in worry. “What are you talking about? What’s all this about, Weiss?”

“It’s rather simple, Blake.” the white-haired Alter declared. “I need to know why you left the White Fang. What happened that made you decide to go to Beacon?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “You know what. I told you, Adam—”

“Yes, yes, the Blood-Soaked Bull started living up to his name.” Weiss dismissed. “That can’t have been it.”

“It was.” Blake insisted. “Adam changed. He stopped caring about the innocent. It wasn’t the people we had to protect, the bystanders, and the people we had to fight anymore. It was either they were with us or against us. And the White Fang was changing with him. Sienna Khan would never tolerate the change, but Adam has been becoming more and more popular every day. Eventually, if he wanted to…”

“He could launch a coup.” Weiss surmised. “Wouldn’t that be interesting.”

From what Weiss knew of Blake’s past, Sienna Khan had been close friends with her family since before the White Fang even formed. She’d been one of Ghira Belladonna’s earliest lieutenants and while they had grown ideologically distant, their friendship had remained solid enough that the change over of the White Fang’s leadership was completed without bloodshed. That came later.

Sienna Khan wasted no time ensuring that Remnant knew the White Fang wasn’t playing around anymore. If you abused the faunus, they would come for you. That environment of fear had bought the faunus more respect than they’d had before, but it had also grown the circumstances that convinced Blake to leave.

But not immediately.

“He could,” Blake confirmed. “And if he did, the White Fang wouldn’t be after equality anymore. Adam… he won’t tolerate humans. He wants extinction. We’re not fighting for the same dream anymore.”

Weiss hummed in thought. That was decidedly unhelpful. Blake left because she and Adam wanted different things? That didn’t help her at all. She already knew she and her teammates wanted different things. That didn’t get her any closer to sorting out her feelings towards them, or what she wanted to do.

**Kill them.**

_No._

**Make them suffer.**

_No._

**We can make them!**

_No! I don’t want them hurt._

_I care about them!_

**WE CARE ABOUT YOU! WE ARE ONE!**

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Yes. We are one._

**And they are not.**

_They are not._

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Yet._

“Why didn’t you go all the way?” Weiss inquired. “Why couldn’t you bring yourself to fully turn on him?”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m just saying, you were Adam’s right hand. Surely you had sensitive information that could have helped bring them down.” Weiss pointed out. “You could have gone to the police, or if you feared them arresting you, _Ozpin_. You could have crippled their entire Vale operation. Instead, you ran to Beacon and threw yourself into being a huntress, never even considering using what you already had to bring them down.”

Blake’s eyes fell. “I… I didn’t…”

“ _Shuush._ ” Weiss calmed her. She reached over the table and placed a finger on the cat faunus’ lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I understand. You had to leave Adam behind, just like you had to leave me behind. Even still, you cared about both of us.”

Blake’s eyes widened. She pulled away from Weiss’ finger. “Not him, Weiss. But you—”

“He may not recognize your affection, but I do, Blake.” Weiss pushed on, ignoring her friend’s stunned babbling. “I must thank you and the others for being strong enough to survive my previous assault. My foolish inner conflict nearly cost me what I want most. You. You and Ruby and Yang, I want all of us back together again. I want Team RWBY back.”

_We will not be the loneliest of all._

“Weiss, we can be.” Blake agreed. “Just, come with us. We can find the others and find a way to get the mud out of you—”

 _“_ Don’t be preposterous.” Weiss stopped her. She stood from the table, a proud smile adorning her face. She knew what she wanted.

Her team had abandoned her. They had left her to rot with the Schnee’s and then failed to come for her in the Grimmlands. But for their negligence, she had risen above what she once was into the glory of the Queen. And if she was above them, then was it not befitting that she forgive them their failure and graciously bring them into the darkness beside her. After all, hadn’t she attacked the Queen when they first met? And if she had received mercy, why not her friends?

She did not want to kill them. She wanted _them_.

“We will all be one in the Queen’s will.” Weiss declared. “The four of us shall be the heralds of a new age of peace and hell!”

“What?!?” Blake jumped to her feet, her eyes and mouth aghast and wide. “That will never happen! We will not side with Salem! She is evil!”

“So is the rest of the world! She’s just honest about it!” Weiss snarled. “You’re still trapped. Trapped in the illusion of your own goodness. The liars… they have chained each of you in their fallacies, just as my family did with me. The White Fang, Branwen, _Ozpin_ , they’ve warped you all into thinking you know best. That your will is somehow morally superior simply because it’s yours. It’s a trick, a shadow on the wall. The only thing that matters in this world is your goals and what you are willing to do to accomplish them!”

Blake backed away, her amber eyes soaked in fright. Sun had leapt up to join her and stood at her side with his bō staff drawn.

Faster than they could blink, Lancer Alter was before them. With a simple flick of Gáe Bolg, the monkey’s staff was blasted out of his hands.

Sun hopped back. He gazed on the Servant before him with absolute terror. Then, his face hardened. He raised his fists into a boxing stance. He must have known it would be useless. If Lancer wanted to kill him, he’d be dead before he could blink. But still, his moxie was impressive.

Cú Chulainn glanced back to her, a pleased smirk on his face, requesting permission to give the boy a worthy death.

Weiss sighed and shook her head. This… this wasn’t what she should do. This wasn’t going to help them see the truth.

“Blake, one should hate the lie, not the liar.” Weiss decided. “You all need to see the truth. And you will. Soon, the White Fang will either kneel to the will of the Queen or be judged for their self-righteousness. As for the others who’ve deceived you, I promise you, I will take care of them personally.”

“Weiss…”

“No. No. Don’t say a word.” She calmly walked over to her dear friend and placed a firm, comforting grip on her shoulder. She leaned into Blake’s ear.

“Just go back to Ruby. Tell her not to worry. I forgive you all.” she whispered solemnly. “And I’ll take care of the happy ending.”

_We will, won’t we?_

**…**

**…**

**…**

**Yes.**

**Yes, we will.**

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Archer was at a loss for words. He’d known that Saber was a glutton but… eight children? Eight?

The group’s arrival at the temporary Arc abode, several rented rooms in a subpar motel, was more subdued than one would expect. They had met with the rest of Jaune’s siblings in one of the establishment’s many common rooms, torn sofas and stained coffee tables scattered around the party. He, Ruby, Yang, and Rider had been welcomed cordially, but as expected, the sisters’ attentions were all on their brother and Mordred. The five newly arrived blonde women had flocked around the pair with wild attention.

There were hugs. There were shoves. There were questions.

So many questions.

“Where have you been?”

“What happened to mom?”

“What do you mean Sapphire’s not the oldest anymore?”

Jaune had looked more terrified than when he’d faced down Hercules, his hands constantly up as parried each inquiry and the punches that often preceded them. Mordred was no better. While none of the sisters confused her for their mother as Amber had, her uncanny resemblance and the whole ‘long lost sibling’ factor was more than enough to leave her swarmed by her new relations. And while the Knight of Treachery delighted in attention, the sheer volume being heaped on her and the connection to her father began to wear down her already limited patience.

Archer was glad for the lack of attention paid to him. He didn’t have any idea what he would say to them. Thankfully, with the exception of a glancing eye here and then, he was free to stand back and observe the Arc family.

The two most fervent attackers were a pair of twins a bit shorter than Jaune. Hazel and Jade, if he remembered correctly from their rapid-fire introductions. Their purple eyes, a few shades darker than Yang’s, raged with anger born of worry as they berated their brother for leaving for Beacon, not coming back after the Fall, etc.

Another pair of twins, taller than Jaune but shorter than Sapphire, looked over Mordred. Sable and Coral, or the mother hen and the pervert writer as their brother had described them. Indeed, one was looking over the Knight of Treachery looking for battle scars while the other seemed particularly interested in why Mordred referred to Arturia as ‘father’.

Sapphire managed them all, being the oldest and the one with the most time to process Jaune’s return. She stood as a buffer between the new arrivals and the rest of the family, trying to ensure everyone’s voices could be heard and their queries answered by the prodigals. Even amongst the mad commotion, there was never a moment when her voice could not be heard.

She took the time to support another slighter girl who looked to be around Jaune’s age, if perhaps slightly younger. The girl was just as curious as her siblings, but her skin was getting redder as the interrogation went on and Archer could see her breathing becoming frantic. If he had to guess, this one was the one Amber had mentioned getting sick easily, Lavender. Apparently, Saber getting pregnant so soon after Jaune was born had caused complications in the birth. Honestly, given Saber’s nature as both a Heroic Spirit and one with a dragon’s core, it was more surprising that Lavender had only been born physically weak instead of mutated into some draconian hybrid.

As she was, she reminded Archer of when Saber was starved for _prana_ during their grail war. His partly magus training had prevented him from properly supplying her with magical energy, leaving the mighty King of Knights struggling against foes she would normally go blow for blow with. Lavender reminded him of the Saber he’d carried on his back as they fled through the night, winded, wounded, but still fierce and proud like a lion.

Indeed, he found it difficult not to compare each of Arturia’s children to her various moods. Sapphire was mediator Saber, making sure Rin didn’t tear him apart for his stupidity. Hazel and Jade were furious Saber, calling him out for that same stupidity. Sable was concerned Saber, checking over his wounds that stupidity had caused while Coral was analytical Saber deducing the exact specifications of the weapon that dealt him the wound but the width of cut or density of the welt. Even Amber, who sulked on one of the couches refusing to even acknowledge Jaune and Mordred, was a perfect match for indignant Saber, livid that he had not prepared everything in his refrigerator for her.

In each of their faces, he caught hints of her. Sapphire’s noble chin. Sable firm hands. Lavender’s determined eyes. She was splintered among them all, scraps of a magnificent portrait tossed about a dozen different mannequins.

It was infuriating.

It was intoxicating.

She was so close and yet so far away.

He dissipated into spirit form before he said something he regretted, ignoring the gasps of shock that echoed out at his departure.

Leaving the building entirely would be irresponsible, leaving Ruby without a guard if they were surprised. So, he floated through the winding halls of the motel and phased into the first room he saw.

He was there for five seconds before he realized he’d picked the worst place for him to go. Scattered across the shabby carpet were a few half-unloaded duffel bags, some filled with simple things like toiletries and journals and others packed with broadswords and polishing oil. At the side of a messy twin bed was a scratched up wooden dresser, and on top of that were a set of framed photographs.

Photographs that all featured a very familiar blonde.

Saber was the most noticeable presence in each picture. Even surrounded by the rest of her family, the King of Knights’ innate charisma and authority shined through. In each one, she stood proud and tall, surrounded by scenes of triumph. One had Sapphire in a black cap and gown, another had Lavender sitting on a doctor’s stool with a lollipop in her hand, and the largest had the entire clan arranged against the setting sun of a brilliant beach. In each of them, Saber smiled wide and jubilant in the arms of her kin.

Her family.

Archer was pleased she had been happy. It always brought joy to him when others were happy. It was all he lived for, after the fire. He’d ignored all the other innocent souls who’s suffered then, so his penance was to completely dedicate himself to making others smile. Normally, each person’s joy was of equal importance to him, but with Saber… he could not have been more thrilled that she’d found happiness in Remnant. She had flourished like a blooming flower in this new timeline.

In a timeline where she had never met him.

That was a good thing. _That boy_ was of no help to anyone, with his insipid striving towards a childish and selfish goal. And without Saber to inspire him in the Grail War, he likely never gained the hubris that led him to make a contract with Alaya. Hell, without Kiritsugu, he likely died when the corruption emerged from the Grail, unless he somehow became this mysterious Last Hero Ozpin mentioned.

Whatever the case, he knew for a fact that the King of Knights and the son of Kiritsugu Emiya never met in this timeline. And because of this, Saber had made a family and been happier than he had ever seen her. That was good. Beyond good, it was excellent. She deserved nothing less.

His fist was clenching with joy.

Absolute. Utter. _Joy._

Besides, with the number of children they’d spawned, Nicholas Arc at least seemed to have been… _adequate_.

Excellent.

Truly excellent.

He sensed a familiar presence behind him. Unfortunately, it was the last person he wanted to deal with at the moment. “Is there something you needed, King of Conquerors?”

Iskandar materialized right behind him. A joyous grin painted on his face. “No, nothing really just curious where you ran off to all of a sudden. I’d think a hero such as yourself would be thrilled to witness such a heartwarming reunion between siblings.”

Archer scowled. “It’s a private matter. I have no reason nor right to intrude.”

“So, you flee to the absent patriarch’s quarters?” Iskandar teased.

“I chose the first room I saw.”

“And made yourself comfortable I see.” The Servant of the Mount strode up next to Archer and looked down on the formed photographs. His wide grin dimmed into a smaller, pleased smile. Less radiant, but more intimate and honest in its joy. “I’m glad she was able to move on.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Iskandar shook his head. “Oh, nothing. I’m simply pleased the King of Knights took my advice. The last time we met, she was determined to redo her reign as king, to change history. As if to change the fates of those who’d fallen was not an insult to the choices they’d made.”

Saber wanted to redo her reign herself? Huh. That was better than when he’d known her. During their war, she’d planned to use the grail to wish that someone else entirely was king in her place. It was selfish to place such a burden on another soul just because you did not wish to bear, but Archer understood that Saber had only been driven so far from despair. Even then, however, he had hoped to correct her should he have encountered her in another grail war. Especially since he’d learned since their time together that her ambition was not only foolish but dangerous as well.

The Universe or Multiverse or whatever it was called, for all its vastness, had limited energy. Countless timelines branched off in every which way, sometimes separated by only the most minute of decisions. As long as the universe found a sequence of events in a world satisfactory it would continue to be supplied with energy and that timeline would carry on, its inhabitants blissfully unaware of the potential danger inherent in each moment of their lives. The fact that the timeline continued was proof enough that previous events were permissible. But if one sought to change the past, even by the smallest margin, they put the whole of their timeline at risk. For if the new events were found to be no longer satisfactory, the universe could unleash a Quantum Time-Lock and cull the newly extraneous timeline from existence.

He did not know if Saber was aware of that fact. He’d only learned it once he’d become a Counter Guardian. From what he understood, it was a concept only known to the upper echelons of magecraft, the reason why True Magic users like Zelretch took supreme care in their actions. True they wished to avoid the Counter Force, but though few in number, there were worse things than Alaya’s dogs.

“Hey, Archer, are you listening?”

Archer blinked. “My apologies, King of Conquerors. I was lost in thought.”

Rider smiled. “No problem. Happens to the best of us. What were you thinking about?”

“Different paths.” Archer simply said. “The Saber I knew eventually realized that she could not go back but… I never saw her like this.”

“Hah! I suppose the King of Knights was still set on saving the world when she was with you.” Iskandar surmised. “She thought she still had to uphold her accursed ideals.”

“What would you have had her do, King of Conquerors?” Archer demanded hotly. “Live like some barbarous heathen? Without a code or morals?”

Rider shook his head. “No, you fool. There was nothing wrong with Saber’s ideals. To have a dream you strive towards is a beautiful thing. But it should never be the end all of a person. Ideals are meant to support one’s conviction, not the other way around. If we chain ourselves in such a prison, all will find in life is our failure to live up to our dreams, instead of the joy we can find even on an incomplete road.”

He swept his arm towards the Arc family photos. “Just look here for the proof. When we both last saw the King of Knights, could we ever imagine such a fulfilled smile upon her face? Never. She trapped herself in her lonesome quest for her ideals instead of enjoying the life she led. Yet here, she was able to smell flowers, chase butterflies, and fall in love! All things that make life worth living! I couldn’t be happier for her.”

Archer frowned. He found every word out of the King of Conquerors mouth to be absolutely nauseating.

And yet… there was merit in it. Even ignoring Saber and examining his own life, he had decided that he had to be the one to save the world, all on his lonesome, and it had driven him to trap himself in a pitiful existence as a Counter Guardian. Even Ruby’s answer had ridiculed his tendency to take on everything himself, ignoring others that were better suited to the task at hand. It had always come from a benevolent place, not wanting to see them harmed, but in hindsight, it had been quite patronizing. Even if his arsenal was unlimited, he was not.

“Perhaps chasing a dream to the determent of everything else is foolish.” Archer conceded. “But you speak as though there is no cost to your hedonism. I know of your history, King of Conquerors. You wanted to reach Okeanos so badly that you invaded the largest empire in the world. You started a war that killed thousands because you wanted to go sightseeing.”

Iskandar shrugged. “I did. My men and I fought a glorious battle against Darius and his forces. Though it was not as black and white as you make it sound. There were several territories that welcomed me with open arms. Those who accepted my negotiations were treated generously as my new vassals. Hell, after Darius was sadly murdered by his spineless governors, I rejuvenated the empire. I brought about a true fusion of culture like no other. A great many of those who once fought against me joined my Hetairoi for the rest of the campaign.”

“And Tyre?”

Rider’s smile disappeared. For the first time, regret showed itself on the face of the King of Conquerors.

Archer didn’t blame him. What he’d learned about Alexander the Great, both as a mortal and in the Throne of Heroes, had always made mentioned his merciful nature in victory. There was a reason many of the soldiers in his Reality Marble had been recruited willingly from forces that had once stood against the king of Macedonia.

But the city of Tyre had been different. A metropolis on the cost of the Middle East, Iskandar had no reason to take the city other than the fact that it was there. He sent his terms and, when they were rejected, he laid siege to the city. At that point, the king had blown through the mightiest forces Greece and Persia had at their disposal, commanded his men to victory against armies’ that outnumbered his own ten to one. He’d expected another easy conquest. He did not get it.

 For seven long months, the city held and slaughtered thousands of the king’s treasured men. When he finally broke through the walls, he was enraged. And for that price, he executed thousands. It was the only known instance of Iskandar’s temper overtaking his judgment in war.

Evidently, it was not one he’d forgotten.

“My way is not perfect.” the King of Conquerors glumly confessed. “There are always mistakes. I have made many.”

“And for those mistakes, people died.” Archer accused.

“Yes. People died.” Iskandar stared Archer in the eyes. “But the truth of the matter is that people always die, no matter what path one chooses. Just look at you. You dedicated yourself entirely to keeping others alive, and how many have you slain in that quest?”

“I kept many more alive.”

“And yet more still needed to die. And you kept doing the same thing.” Iskandar pointed out. “Tyre was a tragedy, an atrocity that rightfully stains my legend. But it was a mistake I learned from. I never allowed such pointless carnage again. That is the key. My way is not without flaws. But I have seen the other paths I could have taken, and I know that it is the best one for me. For it constantly improves, revels in the truth that it will never be perfect and through that imperfection is greater than perfection itself. It is the truth of humanity! And if it is the difference between being crushed by regret and dying with a smile on my face, knowing I’d done I all could, then I will gladly suffer my mistakes.”

Archer felt a tingling across his back, familiar phantom pain reminding him of a barrage of once friendly blades. Blades he’d pardoned.

“I died with a smile on my face,” he noted. “The regret came after.”

Rider sighed. “You and I will never get along, will we?”

A faint, wistful smile graced Archer’s lips. “No. I don’t believe we will.”

It was a shame. He did not hate the King of Conquerors. In his own way, he too had wished for the happiness of others.

But their philosophies were too different, complete opposites in fact. Iskandar drew others to him like moths to a flame, inspiring them to join him on his eternal quest, to find the same happiness in the seeking as he himself did. Through them, he gained strength, his path to kingship. In contrast, Archer devoted himself to others, his only wish to see everyone in the world happy and safe. He would tear himself to pieces if it meant someone else could smile.

“A true shame.” Iskandar declared. “You’re one of only two people I’ve been unable to find true common ground with. The other was the King of Heroes.”

Archer chuckled. “He’d skewer you for putting us in the same category.”

“Ha! I’d imagine so. He certainly wouldn’t appreciate you making copies of those trinkets of his.”

Archer shivered. “No. No, he would not. Though, I imagine there are those beyond the two of us who would reject your philosophy.”

Rider raised a playful eyebrow. “Oh? I take it you have someone in mind.”

Archer frowned. “The one who forged me. Kiritsugu Emiya.”

Wasn’t that just a mess of emotions. The man who pulled him out of hell. The man who made him go back in. The man who’d cared for him, taught him. The man who’d sent him down the path of a hero of justice, of absolute ruin. The architect of his damnation.

His father.

There was so much anger. There was so much love. So long he’d been only a memory, a face he glimpsed whenever his tortured mind wandered, wondered for a reason. The idol on the altar where he laid his sufferings.

But no matter his feelings, whatever they were, Ruby was not wrong. Kiritsugu Emi… Kiritsugu was his father. And while his hands were far from bloodless, he did not deserve to be trapped as a tool of Kirei Kotomine.

He would save him. Whether that meant killing him… he’d have to find out.

“Assassin, huh?” Iskandar hummed. “He was Saber’s master during the Fourth War, correct? Never even knew the sneaky bastard existed. I just assumed that homunculus that hung around Saber was her master.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “Did you not notice the lack of Command Seals on her hand?”

“Thought she’d covered them up with makeup or something?

“That’s… actually not a bad plan. Why has no one done that before?”

That really was so obvious. It was useless to them at the moment since the masters were mostly known to each other, but why hadn’t someone like Rin or Luvia or Kirei ever done that? Makeup didn’t necessarily fall under the traditional mage’s disdain for technology, so why hadn’t they sought to hide their status to strike at an opportune moment? Perhaps pride? Rin at least wouldn’t give anyone an excuse to call her a coward.

But in that case, why hadn’t he done that? It certainly would have saved him the trouble of getting ambushed literally every other second.

A rush of magical energy entered the room. Both he and Rider turned to the door and watched Saber materialize from spirit form. She panted heavily and braced herself against the entrance, her eyes frantically glancing about in terror.

Archer couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sibling love a little much for you?”

“They just don’t stop.” Mordred huffed. “Why won’t they stop? How am I supposed to know what spell Merlin used to turn father into a man? I wasn’t there.”

“I’d be quite disturbed if you were.” Archer snarked.

Mordred scowled. “Oh, shut up. Keep your thoughts to yourself, Jes…ter?”

Archer raised an eyebrow at the skip in her voice. He followed her gaze and knew immediately what she saw.

Mordred slowly advanced forward and picked up one of the photos, the one of the family at the beach. Her eyes locked onto the image of Arturia.

Archer prepared to trace Kanshou and Bakuya. Whatever his feelings on the matter, he would not allow Mordred to destroy the Arcs’ memories of Saber out of spite.

But Mordred didn’t make to destroy the picture. Instead, her brow merely furrowed in perplexion.

“He’s smiling,” she muttered softly. “How did they get him to smile?”

Archer blinked at her words. He opened his mouth to respond but… he didn’t really have an answer.

Several knocks sounded off the door. “Um, Mordred? Are you in there?” Sapphire called. “Coral says she sorry if she crossed a line she shouldn’t have.”

“No, she didn’t!”

“Jade! Hazel! Not the time!” Sable snipped.

Sapphire cleared her throat. “So, Dad’s going to be home pretty soon, and it’ll be pretty awkward if you’re in his room… we’re going to get started on dinner if you’re okay waiting.”

Mordred sighed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there soon.”

She glared at both Archer and Rider. Then, she disappeared into spirit form.

Rider chuckled. “Well, well, who knew the Knight of Treachery could be cowed by siblings?”

“I wouldn’t call that cowed,” Archer remarked. “She’s on the back foot for the moment, but when she comes to—”

“She’ll love them.” Rider confidently declared. “Just like they’ll love her.”

“You seem quite confident that’ll they’ll take to her,” Archer noted. “You don’t think they’ll scapegoat her for Saber’s death?”

Rider shrugged. “Maybe the little one might, for a little bit at least. But I have faith she’ll win them over.”

Archer cocked an eyebrow. “How?”

“Ha!” Iskandar laughed. “By being herself! By living and being happy! How else?

“You truly are ridiculous.” Archer sighed.

“Perhaps.” Iskandar smiled greedily. “But they are about to make dinner. I’m sure it’d make them happy if you helped them with the cooking.”

Archer stood there and glared daggers at the King of Conquerors. He didn’t think he’d ever hated anyone, save maybe _that boy_ , more than he did Iskandar the Conqueror in that moment.

“Go buy your video game.”

“Really? Thank you, Arch—”

“And find somewhere else to eat tonight.”

“Oh, come now…”

He dissipated into spirit form in a huff and departed for the motel kitchen.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Jaune collapsed into one of the motel couches. “So, that’s what happened.”

He’d told the story of what had occurred since mom had arrived at Beacon. Though all his sisters had heard it, he was thankful that some of them had gone to make dinner as soon as he’d finished, thinking food would help everybody not explode from the new information. Unfortunately, the ones who had left were Sapphire and Sable, who were the two least likely to tear him to shreds over it all.

Jade and Hazel stood directly in front of him, with Coral standing a bit farther back, her eyes narrowed in analytical thought. Lavender and Amber sat on either side of the couch from him, the former with her hand supporting her forehead and the latter sulking into the pillows. Ruby and Yang stood in the hallway entrance, close enough to give him emotional support and iron out any details he forgot, but far enough away to avoid the line of fire.

Jaune was happy for that. He’d taken care to leave out the exact circumstances of mom’s death. He didn’t want any of his sisters blaming Ruby for something she had no control over at the time. Still, with Mordred having gone off to join the kitchen group, that left him the prime target for interrogation.

“So… let me get this straight.” Hazel said softly. “Mom was an ancient spirit of a hero from some fairy tale and she died saving you guys from some other fantasy guy. Then, you guys did some crazy magic ritual to summon more of these ‘Servants’, one of whom happens to be mom’s long-dead first kid, all so you can kill four more of these guys and use a cup to wipe out the Grimm for your old headmaster who’s now inside a farm boy. That all?”

Jaune gave them a nervous smile. “Well, you missed a few details. The Alters, Ruby’s family drama—”

“We got the basics though.” Jade cut in. She palmed her face in her hand. “God damn it, little brother. You just had to go to Beacon, didn’t you?”

Jaune’s face fell. He stared down at his feet, ashamed. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Yeah, it really _fucking_ is,” Hazel growled.

That was bad. Hazel and Jade were the pranksters of the Arc siblings. They were always ready with a clever taunt or mocking retort. And while Jade was usually the calmer of the two, if either of them got going, they’d exploded, unleashing their wrath in a storm of shouts and fury. But now, they had only ice in their eyes for him.

“You wanted to be a big huntsman so badly.” Jade snarled. “Some big hero! Well, look where—”

“That’s enough.” Coral declared, her voice calm yet punctuating as a pen stroke. Jade and Hazel shot him dark looks, but they backed away and went to help Sapphire and Sable in the kitchen.

Jaune gulped, his eyes barely containing their tears. “Thanks. Though they weren’t exactly wrong.”

Coral sighed. “No. They’re not. But they’re not right either. You had no way knowing what would happen when you left for Beacon. And even if you had stayed home, this Kirei guy would still have started this Holy Grail nonsense. You might have been picked for a master anyway. At least this way you’re not alone.”

She turned to Ruby and Yang and glared threateningly. “You two will be keeping him alive? Won’t you?”

Ruby and Yang glanced nervously at each. They both nodded eagerly.

“Absolutely!”

“Vomit boy’s safe with us.”

“Good,” Coral stated. “No point in him having a harem if they can’t keep him safe.”

Ruby’s face stuttered, her muscles failing to compute as her mouth stuck in a warped frown.

Yang’s fists clenched. Her eyes went red. “What did you just say?”

Lavender’s face sank even further into her palm. “Dammit, Coral.”

Jaune whipped his head up and frantically waved his hands in front of him. “Coral, no! That is not what is going on here! They are my friends! Not my—you’re smiling.”

Indeed, a sly, satisfied smirk rested itself on Coral’s lips.

“That I am,” she confirmed. “And you’re not frowning anymore. We weren’t going to get anywhere with you depressed like that. Angst doesn’t suit you.”

“So, you implied he was sleeping with my baby sister?” Yang snarled.

Coral shrugged. “Shock value is only effective when applied with precision. Warning you would have been pointless.”

Yang growled. Fortunately, she had apparently gained better control over her temper since Beacon. She took a deep breath and her eyes returned to lilac. “You’re one heck of a bitch, you know that?”

“ _Professional_ bitch. It’s an art form.” Coral boasted. “Now then, I’ve gotten him to stop moping. Lavender, getting his head on straight is your job.”

Lavender’s head shot up. “What? Since when?”

“I’m his tyrannical sibling. You’re the sickly protectorate. Heartwarming is your territory.” Coral stated plainly. “You’re just better suited.”

“I have no idea how to do that!”

“You’ll figure it out,” Coral assured her. “He’s pretty much a simpering puppy to you.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Jaune remarked.

“So you are. And our new brother is not.” Coral countered. “And I would like more information about her conception. It sounds like quite the interesting story. Come along, Amber.”

Their youngest sister hopped off the couch and followed Amber out of the room. She didn’t even spare Jaune a look.

That was fair. She was the youngest of them, four years his junior. She, more than any of them, had held out hope that his letter had been wrong, that mom had survived. She was entitled to her grief. She could even hate him forever if she couldn’t find a way to forgive him.

Not like he could fix it.

Ruby pulled Yang into the hallway, whispering some urgent request.

Jaune turned to his last remaining sister. “You don’t have to try to cheer me up. I know I screwed up.”

Lavender sighed. “Jaune… Coral wasn’t wrong. This mess would have happened whether you went to Beacon or not. We don’t know how the Grail chose its masters. You said you got the Command Seals before mom died, so it might have picked you because you were her son, not because you needed to bring her back.”

Jaune gulped. “Lav… I’m sorry… I can’t… I can’t bring her back. Salem, she… we have to stop her. It’s what mom would have wanted.”

Lavender looked away. Tears welled in her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. She always was too much of a hero for her own good.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaune repeated. “I’m so sor—”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Lavender demanded. “That Kirei guy and that boss of his, they’re the ones who did this. They killed mom. They killed your partner. Jade and Hazel, they’re not as angry as they seem. Well, they are, but it’s out of worry.”

“Worried that I’ll mess things up even more?”

“Worried you’ll get yourself killed.” Lavender growled. “This is a fight to the death. And despite what Coral says sometimes, you’re still our brother. We don’t want you to die.”

“Amber seems like she does.” Jaune sulked.

Lavender smacked him on the arm. The petite girl scowled. “Amber is thirteen. She didn’t believe dad when he told us about mom. She’s still dealing with her grief, but she’ll be fine. Eventually. She just needs time. God, you are not making this ‘cheering you up’ thing easy.”

Jaune chuckled at that. “Sorry. I’ve been getting a bit more pessimistic lately. Archer… he has that effect on people.”

“The guy with the silver hair? Red coat?” Lavender grinned. “He’s hot.”

To say Jaune scowled would be like saying Gilgamesh was a bit prideful. “No.”

“You don’t get to decide my life.”

“He’s way too old for you.”

“He doesn’t look like he was over thirty when he died.”

“He was friends with mom.”

“Then she’d approve.”

“That is not at all how that works!” Jaune protested. “You don’t get together with someone like that! You just can’t… you’re smiling, aren’t you?”

Lavender was indeed smiling. “Huh. Maybe cheering you up isn’t so hard after all.”

An innocent laugh burst out of Jaune’s lips. His first in a good long while.

God, it felt good to laugh.

“Now I get it. Very funny, Lav.”

Lavender, sweet, innocent, sickly Lavender, gave him a devilish smirk. “Who said it was a joke?”

She stood up and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Come on, big brother. The others might need help with dinner.”

She walked out into the hall.

Jaune stood there in the common room, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide.

Ruby hesitantly walked up to him, Yang leaving down the hall to the motel entrance.

Jaune whirled on her. “I need you to use a Command Seal to make sure Archer doesn’t seduce any of my sisters!”

“What?” Ruby exclaimed. “That is just sick and wrong!”

“You want him to seduce my sisters!?!”

“No! I meant him seducing them would be sick and wrong!”

“Because he’s way too old for them, right?” Jaune asked rapidly. So, what if Archer was technically only as old as he was when he died? He was still too old for his sisters.

Ruby went pale. “Yes. That is exactly it. There are no other reasons why it would be sick and wrong.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Jaune cheered. “This is what I’m talking about! They shouldn’t be going for a guy just because he’s older, mysterious, competent, a really amazing chef… wait, what do you mean ‘other reasons’?”

“Nothing! There are none!” Ruby declared, her voice too squeaky to be anything but a panicked lie.

Jaune’s eyes narrowed. “Ruby, I take matters of my sisters’ honor just as seriously as Yang takes yours. I need you to tell me these other reasons why Archer shouldn’t date them.”

Ruby shook her head. “You really don’t want me to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Jaune stated. “Damn it, Ruby. We said we were going to talk to each other from now on.”

“We are. I was actually coming over to talk to you about something else you need to know.” Ruby assured him. “But trust me, you don’t want to know about this.”

Jaune thought about his friend. His first friend. Like Pyrrha, her faith in him had never wavered. And when he’d needed her the most, when he’d wallowed in his own helplessness, she’d said the words that had ultimately galvanized him into action. He cared about her more than almost anyone.

Lavender, however, was included in those few above her.

“Tell me.”

It took a while. A lot of back and forth. But eventually, Ruby told him about exactly what kind of _friend_ Archer had been to his mother.

He quickly found the motel restroom.


	50. Family Dinner

Yang sighed as she strode through the motel halls, her mind deep in thought.

Ruby had decided to tell Jaune about their plan to use Archer’s wish to save their dad. It made sense. He was their friend, and Mordred, clothes stealing jerk she was, would be a valuable ally moving forward in the war. Being open with them was the right thing to do, and Ruby probably would have told them already if she hadn’t wanted to make sure it was okay with Yang first.

But even though she had agreed to the plan, Yang wasn’t sure how good of an idea it was. She trusted Jaune with her life, but she was more than aware of how tempting the wish of the Grail was. Enough that there was something Raven wanted to use it for other than saving her husband.

And she remembered Jaune’s words at their little reunion. He wanted to bring Pyrrha and his mom back to life. Honestly, she did too. Pyrrha had been her friend as well and she certainly didn’t enjoy seeing the Arc sisters go through the same motions she and Ruby had when they’d learned of Summer’s death.

But one wish had to go towards defeating Salem, otherwise, the people they wanted to save for themselves would crucify them as soon as they returned. And while she was no expert on the specifics of the Grail’s power, she was pretty sure you could only have it do one thing per wish and even that would probably have limits. Otherwise, why didn’t the winner ever think to wish for omnipotence or infinite wishes? No, she was pretty sure they could only change the past to save Pyrrha and Mrs. Arc _or_ heal her father’s wounds.

If Jaune saw their intentions as a betrayal, he would turn on them. Maybe not overtly, but he would. Because he would see them as having turned on him.

In the end, though, it was Archer’s wish that would perform the selfish task. And since he was Ruby’s Servant, that left it up to her whether to inform Jaune or not. She’d chosen to be upfront with her fellow leader.

Yang understood her sister’s motives. She excused herself from the area though. She had gained a better control of her temper, but she did not trust herself not to blow up at a really inappropriate moment and completely ruin their relationship with Jaune. Though, unless he really was dedicated to making sure the past didn’t change, she couldn’t see a way it didn’t deteriorate. They just didn’t have enough wishes to make all their dreams a reality.

That was… unless they found another way to destroy Salem. Like the way Rider had suggested.

No. No, that was not helpful.

Though putting aside the ridiculousness of going to Gilgamesh for help, Rider was another issue on Yang’s plate, one that she couldn’t hand off to Ruby to deal with. Iskandar was her Servant, her friend. Without his encouragement, she would never have left Vale. Without seeing his ambition, his endless drive for life, she would have stayed the empty shell Kirei had left her.

But having seen that dream, that drive, she knew it couldn’t be diverted. There was no way he would ever give up his wish for reincarnation. He wanted another chance to conquer the world and if he got the grail, he would claim it in a heartbeat, everyone else be damned.

And she needed to tell him that Archer had to win. Just as Ruby couldn’t keep Jaune in the dark, she couldn’t lie to Iskandar. She owed him too much.

Now she just needed to figure out how to let her friend know she needed him to take a dive. Her friend with a literal army at his beck and call.

Yeah. She could use some of her patented nerve right about then.

“Hey, it’s Yang, right?”

“Huh?” Yang whirled around and came face to face with one of Jaune’s sisters. She was taller than he was, but shorter than the oldest one, Sapphire. That meant she was one of the elder twins and since she didn’t look like the professional _bitch_ who suggested Ruby was part of some harem that meant she was the one Yang actually liked.

What was her name again? Sara? Silvia? Sable? Yeah! Sable, that was it!

She turned towards the older blonde woman, a friendly smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m Yang. Do you need anything, Sable?”

“No, everything’s alright.” the Arc assured her. A somewhat dreamy haze entered her eyes. “Archer actually came to help with the cooking. He sped everything up so much, and it all smells so good. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Oh.” Yang glanced to the side, a shy hand rubbing through her hair. “That’s… really nice of you. But I can’t impose. You guys just got Jaune back and well… got Mordred. Ruby and I couldn’t possibly butt in on a family dinner. We’re just strangers to you guys.”

“You’ve brought our idiot brother back to us alive, that makes you family in my book.” Sable chuckled softly, a melancholy smile breezing across her lips. “Besides, mom always said strangers were just friends you haven’t met yet.”

Another piece broke off Yang’s heart. She’d heard Jaune spout that silly phrase a dozen times back at Beacon but now knowing it’s source… “How are you all doing with… you know?”

“Mom,” Sable replied simply. She shrugged. “We’re dealing. It helps that dad told us about Jaune’s letter months ago but the confirmation still… Amber’s taking it the worst so the rest of us are trying to hold it together. But it still hurts, you know?”

Yang flashed back to Summer’s death. Having to step up and be a mother to Ruby while Uncle Qrow pulled dad out of his despair. Having to squash her own crippling despair. Having to ignore the desperate questions of why she had to go, why couldn’t she have just stayed home that day? Why couldn’t she have just kept being their super mom?

“Like a bitch,” she muttered glumly.

Sable nodded. “Please don’t use that kind of language around Amber. Especially now. Now come on. Dad probably won’t get back until later, so it will be nice to have some extra faces at dinner.”

Yang nodded, an incredulous chuckle on her lips. Here this woman was, dealing with her mother’s death and keeping up a strong front to help her younger siblings through the ordeal, and now she was inviting a pair of girls she’d never met, who had come with her brother from the very place her mother had died at, to a family dinner.

She was incredible.

And Yang couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.

“Thank you, but it probably isn’t a good idea for the Servants to stay in the same place for too long.”

Sable raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Um… it makes it easier for enemy masters to detect us.” Yang lied. She just needed an excuse not to be tortured by being in the Arc sisters’ presence.

Fortunately, an additional red headed excuse appeared at that very moment.

“Master, dreadful news.” Iskandar declared, materializing from thin air. “Archer has forbidden us from joining the others for dinner tonight.”

“What?” Sable exclaimed. “he can’t ban anyone from dinner—”

“Oh, he can.” Yang latched on. “He was a famous chef hero in life. His Noble Phantasm prevents anyone who makes him angry from eating his food. Very powerful.”

“What? Master, are you sure—”

_‘Go with it, Rider!’_

“His Noble Phantasm?” Sable muttered. “That’s his superpower, right? Like his semblance?”

“Yeah! Exactly!”

“And his keeps people from eating his food?”

“I know, they come in an extremely wide variety. His isn’t even one of the weirder ones.”

Sable didn’t lower her eyebrow, but she sighed in the end. “Alright, fine. But you guys have to eat something tonight. I’ve been working at a restaurant a few blocks from the market since we got here. I’ll make some calls and get you the employee discount.”

“Thanks, Sable,” Yang responded. She gave the Arc sister two thumbs up. “You’re the best.”

“It’s no problem.” the older woman assured them. “But I’m going to make sure Archer doesn’t use this ‘Noble Phantasm’ of his again. You will be joining us for dinner next time. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. Let Jim know I sent you. You’ll get the good seats.”

Sable turned around and walked away to the kitchen.

Yang sighed in relief. That was one problem shelved for a bit. Now to deal with the other one.

“So, master, care to explain what that was all about?” Iskandar inquired. “Just because Archer is being stingy doesn’t mean we have to flee this domicile like thieves in the night.”

Yang bit her lower lip. “That’s… that’s not it. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Iskandar cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? What would that be?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” Yang declared. She strutted out the motel door. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Jaune slammed open the door to the men’s restroom. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth to get rid of whatever sludge remained.

Before him, Ruby cringed. “I did warn you.”

“Yes,” Jaune noted glumly. “Yes, you did. Remind me to listen to you next time.”

Maybe then he wouldn’t have to resist a _very_ unruly desire to behead Archer. Oh god, he really needed to make sure he didn’t seduce any of his sisters. If any of them got in bed with him… no. He didn’t have anything else to throw up.

“Oh, you might want to wait on that,” Ruby said. Her feet shuffled nervously. “I haven’t told you that thing I needed to tell you about yet.”

“Oh yeah. What was it?” Jaune inquired, leaning against the wall to the right of the restroom. “It seemed pretty important to you.”

Ruby gulped, terror written across her face. “Well, we need to use the Grail to destroy Salem. A wish is our only chance to take out the Grimmlands. And the Grail only gives one wish to each master and Servant.”

Jaune raised an eyebrow. “Um, Ruby, we know all that.”

“One wish to _each_ master and Servant. That means that, technically, the grail offers two wishes.”

Jaune’s brain stopped. “Two wishes? That means—”

“The master wishes to kill Salem, and the Servant wishes for whatever,” Ruby elaborated. “Honestly, we probably should have figured it out sooner. I mean, all of them have wishes and why would they compete if we were the only ones who were going to get our wishes granted.”

That made sense. After all, Mordred had made a point of making him understand that they both had wishes for the grail. She wouldn’t be fighting the war if it wasn’t her best chance at becoming king.

But even that made little sense. Sure, the Servant would get their wish, but that just meant they all had motivation. It wasn’t like they had any way to order them to make a wish more pertinent to Remnant, even if it wouldn’t have been a real jerk move to do so. Mordred and Iskandar wouldn’t give up their wishes for anything and Archer…

…

Had no wish.

 _Oh_.

“Archer told me about all this,” Ruby revealed. “And when he did, he offered to use his wish to heal my dad.”

Jaune didn’t know what to think. His friends could save their father. The kind man who’d sheltered him and his team after the Fall of Beacon would recover from wounds he’d otherwise have no hope of surviving.

He should be thrilled. After all, he knew what it was like to have a parent lost to him, and without the Grail, Ruby and Yang would have lost both.

But seeing his family… seeing his sisters’ devastation… Amber’s tears…

He knew the reasons why not. Mordred had spelled them out quite clearly. To ignore mom and Pyrrha’s decisions, to alter history to save them, was an insult to the choices they had made in their lives. Plus, he had a feeling there were more consequences than he was aware of to changing the past.

Taiyang was only critically injured. He wasn’t dead yet. There was no question that the Grail could save him without repercussion.

Mom and Pyrrha were gone. He couldn’t sacrifice the living to save the dead.

And yet, Amber was crying…

He would do anything to help his sisters stop crying. Even the impossible.

“Ruby,” he whispered lowly. “How long have you known about this?”

The red reaper’s silver eyes looked away. “Archer told me after Kuroyuri. I only talked to Yang about it today. I know I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

Jaune chuckled. “You’re sorry? It’s only been a few days.”

“But we said we’d talk to each other! No more secrets!” Ruby declared. “I should have told you as soon as I found out. I promised I’d have your back and I—”

“Took a bit of time to think about it.” Jaune finished. “Ruby, you didn’t keep some dark secret, you were figuring out the details. It’s better you did that than run into this thing without thinking it over.”

Ruby’s shoulders sagged to the ground. “I don’t want to manipulate you. But I know you want to use the Grail too. I don’t want to betray you and I don’t want to betray them.”

Jaune chortled. “So, you thought about them as well?”

“Hard not to. Your sisters… thank you for not telling them exactly what happened at Beacon.”

“I told them the truth. It wasn’t your fault.” Jaune assured her.

“No.” Ruby agreed. Her face was still drowned in guilt. “But it is my responsibility. I just… I can’t fix it.”

“It’s alright. I get it.” Jaune said flatly. “You have a responsibility to your family too. Besides, your Servant made the offer, not mine.”

Ruby looked away. “Do you think… do you think Mordred would go along with it?”

“No.”

Jaune had spent enough time with his new sibling to know that. She would never give up on what she wanted. Not in a billion years.

Ruby raised her head. “Do you think you could—”

“No.” Jaune declared concretely. “Even if she won’t wish for what I want her to, I can’t turn my back on her. Just like you won’t betray me, I refuse to betray her.”

Ruby nodded. “I understand. Where does that leave us though?”

Jaune pulled her into a hug. “The same place as always, crater face. You’re my friend, always and forever.”

Ruby sniffled. “Thanks, vomit boy.”

“No problem.”

“No. I mean thanks for everything.” Ruby pulled out and looked him in the eye. “I know what it’s like to lose a mom. In a way, with Weiss, I guess I now know what it’s like to lose a partner. You have every reason to hate me. But you don’t.”

“Hate you for what?” Jaune asked. “For not being able to control powers you didn’t know you had? I didn’t even know what aura was when I went to Beacon. For making mistakes trying to be a hero? I’m pretty sure I’ve made more. For wanting to save your family? I literally want to do the same thing! How can I hate you for doing the same things that I want to do?”

Tears welled in Ruby’s eyes. She sniffled and wiped them away. “So, what do we do? Get to the Grail and then have our Servants duel to the death?”

“I’m sure Mordred would love the chance to kill Archer.” Jaune joked. Right after, he frowned. “Actually, knowing what I do now, so would I.”

Ruby gulped. “I got a message from Yang while you were in the bathroom. She and Rider are heading to a restaurant for dinner. I think Archer and I should join them.”

“That is a wonderful idea, Ruby.” Jaune declared. His hand flickered to Crocea Mors’ hilt. “Please get him away from my sisters before I get to the kitchen.”

“On it!”

Jaune smiled and left his friend to call her Servant.

He loved Ruby. He really did. She was his first friend. Her getting that mom-kissing piece of shit away from his sisters only endeared her to him more. He meant every word he said to her.

But he could not forget his sisters’ tears.

He needed to inform Mordred of the new plan. That was only common courtesy.

And when he did, he was going to make sure there really was no way they couldn’t save both his loved ones _and_ Taiyang.

 

* * *

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****

Mordred generally considered herself a brave person. Why shouldn’t she? She’d faced down marauders, tyrants, even rebelled against the greatest king the world had ever known. She was never one to back down from a challenge.

Faced with her new sisters, she was seriously considering retracting that policy.

“What did you and mom do for fun when you were knights?” Hazel asked.

“Father was king. He didn’t have fun.”

“But what did you do?” Jade pounced.

“Beat up idiots in the training yard. And executed traitors.”

“What was the exact incantation Merlin used to turn mom into a man?”

“For the last time, I don’t know!” Mordred whined at Coral, whose only response was to wiggle her eyebrows from across the table. “For god’s sake, it’s not like I can just ask him now?”

Archer tilted his head from over by the stove where he was boiling pasta. “Well, technically he is back at our headquarters—”

“That is not Merlin! The Magus of the Flowers was a perverted old man, but I refuse to believe he’d be ridiculous enough to reincarnate himself into a farm boy!”

“Farmboy?” Coral grinned like a cat on the prowl. “Do tell.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Sapphire declared. Everyone went silent as the oldest sister carried over Archer’s penultimate course.

Mordred had said many things about the Jester over the course of their time together and she would likely say much, much more in the future. But even she could not deny (privately, publicly she would do it with abandon) that the silver-haired man was the finest cook she had ever encountered. His appearance in the kitchen had somehow accelerated the preparation of the meal, tripled its quantity, and made every dish come up smelling like roses. It was uncanny.

Sapphire and Sable had called mealtime, so the family had congregated at the kitchen table. Yang and Rider had declined for some reason, something about Archer using a Noble Phantasm to stop them from eating, which was just plain ridiculous. Archer was a Counter Guardian. He didn’t have a Noble Phantasm, just that magecraft Reality Marble he tried to kill Ruby and Jaune in. Maybe that’s why the two seemed to be taking their sweet time getting to the table.

Which was truly unfortunate, as Mordred would have appreciated the backup. Without their brother present and Archer occupied with the cooking, that left the sisters’ focus back on her. Amber had sulked in her seat, not sparing her a glance, while Sable had tried to cheer her up, but the others had open season with the Knight of Treachery. Nothing about Camlann fortunately, they couldn’t deal with the inevitable fallout of that right now, but Jade and Hazel had wanted to know every detail they could about life in Camelot, something about getting the uncensored version of father’s bedtime stories of the time. They wanted to know what a battle was like, what a dragon looked like in real life, how many drinks Sir Tristan could have before passing out (twenty-six on his best day). And of course, Coral just would not leave her alone about Merlin’s stupid sex magic. What was her obsession with that?

Luckily, Sapphire had managed to keep order throughout the ordeal, cowing the others into obedience with only a few words. It was very easy to see father in her authority. Had she been born in Camelot, Mordred had no doubt she’d have to fend off an army of princely suitors seeking her hand for a queen. Pity. Slaughtering the bastards would have been fun.

And if things proceeded any farther, she might have to do it for another sister. Lavender had kept her eyes pinned to Archer’s back the entire time he slaved away at the stove. A blissful grin resided on the girl’s face the entire time.

Mordred had little experience being an older sibling, but she did know that the Jester’s head would be having a very intimate meeting with Clarent if he tried anything uncouth.

Archer came over and laid a stack of three chickens in front of Mordred. The Saber’s lips drooled as she smelled their succulent, decadent scent.

Okay, she’d just chop off his legs. He could still cook then.

Jade whistled. “You sure you can eat all that?”

“It is going to go straight to your hips,” Hazel remarked.

“Pah.” Mordred scoffed. “This? This is just the appetizers.”

Sapphire gulped. “Well, if we needed any proof that you were mom’s…”

Mordred cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your father was a glutton.” Archer bluntly stated.

“Say that again, you son of a—”

“No, he’s right,” Coral confirmed. “Mom ate way more than any human should have been able to. Though given that she was actually a Servant, maybe it’s different for you guys?”

“It’s not.” Archer chimed.

Mordred growled. She crossed her arms and sunk back in her chair. “You have no right to disrespect the King of Knights.”

“Oh my god.” Hazel laughed. “You are such a fangirl.”

…

…

…

“What?” Mordred whispered, ice in her voice. She didn’t know what a fangirl was, but she knew that she was not one. Certainly not for her father.

“Hazel, settle down,” Sapphire commanded. Once the twin calmed down, the oldest turned to Mordred, an apologetic grimace on her face. “I’m sorry about that, Mordred. We’re all, well I guess we’re not the best ‘welcome to the family committee’ and all.”

“You’re doing better than Jaune,” Archer noted as he stoked a pie of some kind. “She punched him in the face.”

“It’s official!” Jade cheered. “She’s one of us.”

“One of us! One of us!”

“Not the time.” Sapphire glared. She sighed. “We are glad to have you with us, Mordred. Like dad says, you can never have too many siblings watching your back. It’s just… well…”

“You’re recovering from father’s death.” Mordred finished. “I get it. I didn’t mean to drag all that up for you guys again.”

“No! It’s not that!” Sapphire claimed. “It’s just… all this is a learning curve. I’m sure we’ll be fine once dad gets back and helps. Until then, can you forgive us for any slip-ups?”

The irony was obscene. Once again, she was before a family member and declared as their kin, with no proof but her near-identical appearance to the King of Knights. Only this time, she was not being dismissed. She was being begged for her favor. And even if they didn’t know her full relation to Arturia, it was still… rather flattering. To be wanted for who she was, both as Mordred and the son of King Arthur.

Besides, if they wanted to talk to her, perhaps she could figure out how they did it.

How they got father to smile.

She nodded to Sapphire. “It’s alright. Honestly, this is probably the best first meeting with family I’ve ever had.”

Coral grinned. “I’m sure the feast has nothing to do with that.”

Mordred smirked back. “It plays a part.”

“I’m flattered,” Archer remarked. He brought over his meat pie and laid it before Lavender. “This is prepared special. It should be easy on your stomach and provide a boost to your immune system.”

Lavender’s eyes widened. She shyly turned her head and blushed. “Oh. Thank you, Archer. It smells delicious.”

Mordred’s fingers twitched towards Excalibur, still around her waist even after the events at the clearing.

Archer bowed his head. “Think nothing of it. It is a chef’s duty to…” He paused and looked to the side, his brow furrowed in concentration. Mordred recognized it as him listening to Ruby contacting him telepathically.

“My apologies, ladies.” the Servant of the Bow declared. “My master has need of me. Everything should be ready to eat however. I will endeavor to return in time to do the dishes.”

“Please, don’t rush yourself, Archer,” Sapphire assured him. She beheld the feast spread before the family, fit even for the halls of Camelot’s king. “This… this is more than enough.”

Archer smiled at the blonde woman and disappeared into spirit form.

Coincidentally, Jaune stomped into the room at that very moment. He glared around the room.

“Something wrong, master?” Mordred asked.

Jaune glanced around at each of his sisters. He sighed. “Nothing. Where’s Archer?”

“You just missed him,” Sable informed him. “He said Ruby needed him for something. Is she eating with us?”

“No. She’s going after Yang.” Jaune replied. He took a seat. “Well, are we waiting for dad?”

“He said he’d be back late tonight. His mission has gotten complicated.”

“Joy. Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“He just said late,” Sapphire said. “For now, dig in.”

The Arc sisters wasted no time obeying that command. Even sullen Amber piled her plate high with Archer’s delectable labors.

Mordred held off. She narrowed her eyes at Jaune.

_‘What’s really wrong, master?’_

_“I’ll tell you later. Trust me. It’s not something to talk about at the dinner table.”_

_‘Alright. But if you’re worried about Archer—’_

_“It’s not poisoned and you’re not getting my share.”_

Mordred snarled and dug into her chicken.

Stupid master. She was just looking out for him. And her stomach, but mostly… yeah, her stomach.

Oh well. At least he was learning.

 

* * *

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****

Ruby dashed into the market district as fast as she could. When she got to the stalls, she paused and panted, her hands supporting her on her knees.

Archer materialized next to her. “Thank you for the warning, master. I would rather not sour the Arc family’s opinion of me by having to defend myself against Jaune.”

“No problem,” Ruby replied. “It’s my fault for blabbing. He was worried about you seducing his sisters, and it just sort of slipped out.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. “He does realize that it would be just as disturbing from my perspective to sleep with Saber’s children?”

“He’s in overprotective older sibling mode. Honestly, it’s not that bad, at least compared to Yang’s usual.” Ruby explained. “I also told him about our plan for the Grail. You know, with you using your wish to save dad?”

“How did he take it?”

Ruby glumly shrugged. “About as well as I could ask for. He’s not going to force Mordred to give up her wish so when we get the end, we’ll have a fair fight to decide it.”

“With Rider as well, I assume,” Archer noted. “Your sister may try to convince him, but he’s not going to give up his dream so easily.”

Ruby cringed. “You don’t know that. Maybe he’s okay with waiting for the next Grail War?”

“Doubtful. The Iskandar we know is not truly the same as the spirit of the King of Conquerors in the Throne of Heroes. Rather, he is a copy of that person summoned in the vessel of a Rider Class Servant.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Wait? Is that how it is for all of you guys?”

“Barring a few exceptions such as the King of Knights, yes.”

“Then… then what happens when you die?”

Archer smirked. “We are killed, master. The same as everyone else. Though instead of returning to the Root for reincarnation, our spirits are reabsorbed by the original in the Throne, as if we never existed.”

“You never… but then what happens if you’re summoned in another Grail War, in some other timeline?” Ruby inquired. “Will you… will you remember what happened here?”

“No. Not likely.” Archer sadly admitted. He rubbed a hand through his silver hair. “Unless it is a truly… trying experience, the source soul in the Throne will not retain the memories of each individual summoning. I can usually recall the events of my invocations as a Counter Guardian, but even I rarely retain my memories as a Servant.”

“That’s… that’s so sad.”

“It is what it is.”

“But then, why does Rider remember what happened in the Fourth War?” Ruby asked. “And the Lancer that Saber fought at Oniyuri, he said he met Arturia in a war before. Why can they remember?”

Archer’s brow crinkled in contemplation. “I don’t know. Rider’s Reality Marble could, in theory, allow him to retain memories of his old master if he joined his army, but the Lancer… that is suspicious.”

“Rider said he didn’t go back to the Throne before he was summoned,” Ruby recalled. “Do you think that has something to do with it?”

“Hmm… perhaps. The Grail was freed of the corruption the moment the wish was made. It is possible that the chalice took that opportunity to power the miracle that sent Saber and the others forward in time with the _prana_ stored up from previous Grail Wars instead of the more recently sacrificed Servants. Doing so could have allowed the grail to store those collected Servants and push them forth to be re-summoned at its leisure.”

“But then why aren’t all of you guys from the Fourth War?”

Archer shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe the Grail only wanted certain pieces on the board. Maybe they were already called to the Fifth War like Lancelot. No matter how it happened, it only gives us an advantage. We’ll need to ask Rider just how familiar he was with the previous Lancer. With any luck, he knows his identity, or at least his Noble Phantasm.”

“That’d be helpful,” Ruby muttered. Her mind was not on Adam Taurus’ Servant however.

“Archer?”

“Yes, master?”

“Will you remember me?”

Archer stopped still. She turned and looked him in the eyes, his silver eyes. Some much like hers, yet not.

All around them, crowds of innocent people bustled around, drinking, chatting, and generally living their lives. All of them without a care in the world for the danger that hunted their every step. And equally oblivious to the two among them who had dedicated themselves their lives so that they would never have to know.

There they stood, alone surrounded by the masses they sought to defend. Except together, united against the coming storm.

For the Counter Guardian at least, the companionship was a long-forgotten experience.

And for that reason, Ruby knew he could make no promise.

“I want to remember you, Ruby.” her uncle promised her. “But I… I don’t know.”

The huntress nodded sadly. It was the best she could hope for. It had taken her this long to forge the bond she had with Archer. Her answer had brought them both some peace. But to know that his peace wouldn’t last… it felt like Kirei had made Assassin shoot her with an Origin Round, tears tumbling down her grandfather’s face as he was forced to pull the trigger. Once this war was over, she would never see her Archer again, one way or the other, just like he would never see his father again, even with Assassin’s summoning…

Actually, now that she thought about it…

“Archer, you said that Kiritsugu Emiya failed to become a hero, right?”

“That is correct,” Archer replied, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “It was why he passed on his dream to my past self. He wouldn’t have done so if he had succeeded in his own time.”

Ruby nodded. “Okay, but if he never became a hero, how is he a Servant?”

Archer paused. He quickly looked away from Ruby. “It doesn’t matter. He is. That means we have to deal with him.”

“Okay, but if we know why he’s a Servant, won’t that give us a better idea of who this Kiritsugu is?” Ruby pointed out. “I mean, understanding what a Servant is like is half the battle, right?”

Archer remained silent. His hands curled into fists.

“Archer, if he couldn’t become a hero the conventional way, then what if… what if he did it the same way you did? What if he became a—”

“He didn’t.” Archer snarled. “He was broken. He was lost. At the end, there was no way he would ever accept Alaya’s contract.”

Ruby didn’t look so convinced. “You told me in your Reality Marble that there are as many timelines as there are choices. Don’t you think that in one of those timelines—”

“No!” Archer declared vehemently. “It is not possible. Kiritsugu Emiya would never—”

Archer’s speech halted as his eyes went wide. He pushed Ruby behind him and drew Kanshou and Bakuya.

“Archer, what’s wrong—”

Ruby’s voice trailed off when she saw him. He wore crimson robes, similar to Archer’s mantle and her cloak. His skin was tan and his hair was white, but otherwise he was a dead ringer for the photo from the burned down cabin. His eyes stared back at his kin, longing clearly buried deep within, but the broken numbness otherwise impossible to miss.

It was the first time Ruby had ever laid eyes on her grandfather. And yet, she instantly understood how everyone who knew of the man found him terrifying. No one should be able to look so sad and yet exude so much danger. Even with the crowd of oblivious innocents wandering around him, the huntress couldn’t help but find her eye glued to him.

“She’s not wrong, Shirou.” Kiritsugu Emiya stated bluntly.

“What are you doing here?” Archer growled. “If you were going to kill us, you would have kept your Presence Concealment active.”

Assassin winced under his son’s harsh appraisal, his face looking like a kicked puppy. Though as much as Ruby sympathized with him, she couldn’t help her hand straying onto Crescent Rose’s hilt.

“I’m here because he was worried you’d snipe him if you saw him coming,” Kiritsugu revealed.

“Him?” Ruby whispered. Already she had a suspicion of who he was talking about. After all, who could command Assassin but his master. But why would he be here? What was there for him to have in Mistral?

Assassin gestured behind them. Archer didn’t dare remove his glare, keeping his eyes, and his swords, trained on his father.

Ruby turned however, and she saw exactly what she’d dreaded.

“ _Kirei_.”

Her false friend stood before her as elegant as the day they met, his golden cross necklace gleaming in the afternoon sun. As always, his cursed smirk dominated his face.

“Greetings, Ruby.”

The reaper immediately pulled out Crescent Rose.

“Is that wise?” Kirei questioned before she could unfurl her scythe. He tilted his head towards the sprawling crowds around them.

Ruby snarled but returned her weapon to her belt. Drawing a weapon in the middle of a marketplace was not a small thing, especially so soon after the Fall of Beacon. If she attacked Kirei here, she would start a panic, possibly get the police involved. They were at enough of a disadvantage without having to dodge law enforcement. Besides, she had no doubt her enemy would have no objections to using civilians as human shields if a fight broke out.

“What do you want?” Ruby demanded.

“My, my.” Kirei tutted. “I don’t recall you having such poor manners, old friend. Your father really should have spoken to you about that.”

Ruby’s eyes sparked silver at the mention of her father. “We. Are. Not. Friends.”

Kirei’s smirk widened at that. “Excellent. I would have it no other way.” He glanced over at Archer and his eyes widened for a moment. He chuckled. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. Perhaps you and Shirou Emiya would prefer to talk in a more comfortable location.”

Archer raised an eyebrow. Ruby grit her teeth. She knew about Kirei’s semblance, but she hadn’t known it was powerful enough to reveal a Servant’s identity with only a look. What else did he know? His Noble Phantasm? No, that would work to their advantage. Archer didn’t have a Noble Phantasm.

Still, they’d already lost this meeting just for that. And if they were going to beat the monster who’d put her father on death’s door, they needed to get every advantage they could.

“Lead the way.”


	51. Mealtime Talks

Kirei knew he was not loved by the Lord. But when his fortune took such magnificent turns as it did of late, it was difficult to believe he was purely condemned either.

He had gone to the market solely to inform Gilgamesh of recent reports he had received from his contacts in the Mistral underworld. Of Qrow Branwen’s arrival in the city and the suspicious reports of black armored figures spotted sneaking in and out of Haven that looked suspiciously like Servants. There had only been two noted so far, so perhaps their enemies were more closely aligned then they’d first believed. Perhaps Qrow, and by extension his niece and her friends, had allied masters secreted away at the academy.

Of course, all of that went out the window as soon as he’d spotted a familiar red hood among the meandering crowds. He’d sent Assassin ahead to make he could get close without the Servant dealing with him and had gladly reintroduced himself to his old friend. Though, beyond his personal reasons for the encounter, it did provide an excellent opportunity to see her Servant and allow his semblance to reveal his true identity to him.

And what an identity it was. Shirou Emiya.

He had no idea if Kiritsugu had adopted another child during his time on Remnant or if the Archer before him was from another timeline, but he could not be more thrilled. Three children of the ideals of the Emiya Clan were before him, two children as his foes and the patriarch as his captive and weapon. The only way it could have been better was if Kiritsugu was free to fight him as well. Then he’d have three ‘Heroes of Justice’ to contend with.

He led them to a small café a few blocks from Gilgamesh’s restaurant.

“I propose we both leave our Servants outside,” Kirei suggested. “We both shall order them not to do anything that could damage either of our chances in the war.”

“Or else what?” Ruby growled.

Kirei shrugged. “The café has other patrons. I can easily have Assassin attend to them instead.”

All three Emiyas’ glared at him. It was wonderful.

“How do I know you won’t attempt to harm my master?” Archer demanded.

“Come now, Shirou Emiya. If I wanted her dead, I would not have let you sense Assassin.” Kirei remarked. He smirked as he noted the boy’s growl when he was referred to by name. “Nonetheless, I swear I have no intentions to kill your master today. This meeting was simply fateful happenstance.”

Ruby clenched her fists, but she nodded to her Servant. “I’ll be fine, Archer. He doesn’t lie.”

That was true. He had far more creative methods of deception than base lies. Stooping to such depths would be unacceptable.

Archer sighed. “Very well. Be careful.”

“I will,” Ruby promised.

The two of them left their Servants at the door and entered the café.

The inside was quite bustling. A sign at the door prevented any Faunus from frequenting the establishment, but in Mistral that was more common than not. Still, dozens of humans were scattered about the store, sipping coffee, working on scrolls, or indulging in various small meals.

He and Ruby plopped down at a table in the back. He smirked at his old friend.

She was taller than the last time he saw her. The highlights of red in her black hair had expanded, making her look even more like her mother than she already was. Her muscle had slightly expanded over the four months of constant combat she’d likely undergone. There was only so much training could do, and the Holy Grail War had given Ruby a warrior’s body.

But the change he appreciated the most were her eyes. Gone was the soft, excitable wetness of the child from Beacon. Now, they were hard, steady like silver stone, glaring at him with hatred that could smite God himself.

He’d wanted the war to evolve Ruby, to shatter her idealistic worldview until her desperation for a happy ending was equaled only by the lengths she would go to in order to get it. He’d wanted to break her down into Kiritsugu, his perfect foe, a fusion of naïve dreams and indomitably ruthless methods.

He hadn’t succeeded. Not yet. But he made progress. Ruby Rose had hardened. One more break would shatter her. The iron was hot, now he just needed to figure out how to strike it.

Time to test the waters then.

“How you heard from your father lately?”

The red hooded girl’s eyes narrowed. Her fists clenched.

Hmm… so that was definitely an option. It also confirmed that she had reunited with her sister. With the international CCT still down, there was no other way she could have learned of his assault on her home.

“I know what you did to him.” she snarled. “I know why you did it. It won’t work. He’s going to be fine. I’m going to save him.”

Oh? That was interesting.

“Really? You’re going to use your wish to save your father?” Kirei inquired. “I must say, I’m a little disappointed, Ruby. The Holy Grail grants its victor near omnipotence and you’d waste it on something so personal? I thought your ideals greater than that.”

It was Ruby’s turn to smirk. A chuckle escaped her lips. “Oh, they are. I’m going to destroy Salem and save my dad.”

Kirei’s black heart suddenly skipped a beat. He raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Salem? The Queen of the Grimm?” Ruby frowned in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know about her.”

“Ah, the ruler of the Grimmlands. So that’s her name.” Kirei remarked. “I encountered her in the last war and I had wondered if she was Cinder’s benefactor, but aside from that I’ve had no dealings with her.”

It was strange. He held no opinion towards this Salem. Her name held no more meaning to him than it had during the Fifth War. A possible obstacle, dangerous certainly but nothing beyond that. Yet, hearing it stirred a strange feeling in his artificial, black heart, gifted to him by the corruption of the grail after his original had been destroyed by Kiritsugu. It was something he remembered quite well from his days of confusion. Longing.

Why did he long for a name he just learned?

Oh well. The feeling passed like a flickering flame and he had more important things to deal with. Like how Ruby seemingly planned to get two wishes from the grail.

“I’m curious though, how is it that you plan to accomplish two impossible tasks with only one miracle?” he inquired.

“That’s for me and Archer to know, and you to never find out.” Ruby snipped.

She didn’t tell him? Excellent! No more was she the fool who would proclaim her strategy to her enemies. She had adapted to the rules of war. The less your enemy knew, the less they knew how to hurt you. She wasn’t bothering with her insipid speeches of friendship and working together for she knew they would be pointless. She wasn’t gloating, or even attempting to ‘save his soul’. She was trying to stonewall him. It almost filled him with a sense of pride that his efforts had led her to grow so much. From wide-eyed child into a cunning warrior, slowly evolving into the role of Kiritsugu Emiya.

Of course, she was still learning. Small details still escaped her.

Why had she mentioned Archer in her boast? Had he helped her divine her method? Was the son of Kiritsugu Emiya some kind of archmage in his own legend? Was his expertise in magecraft so immense that he knew how to circumvent the laws of the Holy Grail War? Was that why Kirei could not discern his Noble Phantasm with his semblance?

No. That was unlikely. Based on his appearance, Shirou Emiya had entered the Throne of Heroes as a Counter Guardian, like his father. And even the Mage Killer himself was far from the levels of the higher echelon of the Clock Tower had been. He specialized in killing mages in ways as unlike a mage as possible, simple methods that minds caught up in extravagant incantations and endless invocations runes would never think of. Thus, if Shirou Emiya was anything like his father, the solution he had provided to Ruby would have to have been something so plain, that many would dismiss it out of hand.

Fortunately, the one thing that Kirei and his Servant could agree on was that they were, in many ways, incredibly similar. Kirei had been trained to hunt mages too, to slice the Gordian Knot instead of wasting time trying to untie it.

It was not a thought many would consider, but if Archer was a Counter Guardian, one that was satisfied with his fate as Assassin was, then it would be reasonable to believe he had no wish for the grail. And if his relative had need of another burst of unlimited power, he would have no alternative desire distracting him from that goal.

It was a brilliantly simple solution. He felt like applauding Ruby for finding it. But it did have one rather noticeable flaw. It assumed Archer would be alive to make the wish at the end.

Perhaps that would be it. The final tragedy that would obliterate Ruby’s last mercies, the scruples that prevent her from having Archer shoot him even now for fear of the innocent bystanders inside.

It was unfortunate, but of the three Emiyas present, Archer was the one he had the least investment in the suffering of. Though, there was one thing he could do to make the boy squirm a little.

Yes. That would do nicely. Quite nicely indeed.

He smiled at Ruby. “We really should order something. This is the only establishment in this kingdom that I’ve been able to find decent Mapo Tofu at.”

Ruby’s eyebrows crinkled. “Why do you do that?”

“Order Mapo Tofu? I told you at school, it is my favorite food.”

“Not that.” the huntress snarled. “Why do you pretend to be nice? Why do you act like you aren’t imagining shoving a dagger into my back right now? Why do you pretend not to be a monster?”

Kirei blinked at Ruby’s query. In the end, he just shrugged. “It’s how I was brought up. I am a monster, I always have been. But that doesn’t mean I am ungrateful towards those who attempted to teach me to be a man. Their efforts may have been in vain, but they meant well, and I respected them as such. Truthfully, it is those I have respect for, and in turn have care for me, that I treasure… what was it you said? ‘Shoving a dagger into their heart?’”

Ruby scoffed. “You kill people who love you? What, did you kill your own parents?”

Kirei sighed. “If only. My mother passed before I was a man, and my father fell to another’s hand before I could gather the conviction to do the deed. A shame. I would have enjoyed it a great deal.”

Silence.

Kirei glanced up at Ruby, waiting for her response. He found her face twisted in aghast horror. She seemed uncomprehending, like when he’d revealed Cinder’s plans to her back at Beacon.

“Wha… Wha… What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” Ruby whispered, her voice thin as if she spoke of the devil. Perhaps she did. “You… you… you kill… you betray the people who… do you not care about anyone other than yourself?”

“Of course. They’re all I care about.” Kirei countered. “Think of it this way. You, your sister, _normal_ people, protect those they care about because it brings them joy to do so. Your sister, though her love for you is completely genuine, does everything she does because she fears you leaving her behind, and in turn, being alone. Thus, she seeks to protect you from harm so as to not let you die.”

Ruby scowled, but she didn’t object. She glanced inward, probably feeling guilty for having left her sister behind on Patch while she went to fight the war. She shouldn’t have, it was the correct strategic decision, but she did. Kirei savored her self-loathing before he continued.

“I am the same way. But instead of protecting those I respect, I find joy in their suffering, most especially that I cause. In a way, you could say that all I care about is others.”

“What happened to you?” Ruby muttered. “What could have possibly made you like this?”

Kirei sighed. He gazed at his right hand, his Command Seals blazing crimson. “Nothing. I have been like this for as long as I have been born. I am what I am. While your soul is simple and honest, mine is twisted and black. I choose to do what makes me happy because it is the only thing that makes me happy.”

Ruby kept her eyes hidden, her bangs covering them as she angled her head to the floor. Kirei worried there would be tears falling down her face any moment. No. No, she couldn’t fall back now. She had to evolve. She could not seek his redemption—

“Boo. Hoo.”

Kirei cocked an eyebrow.

Ruby’s face rose. Her fists clenched in fury. Her eyes did not spill tears, but glared at him hard, like silver swords baying for blood.

“Cry me a river.” she spat. “You can talk about how sad it was that you were born the way you were all you want. And sure, it’s horrible. I wish you could have enjoyed other stuff. But at the end of the day, you know the difference between right and wrong, between good and evil. And you _choose_ to do evil, to hurt people. You _chose_ to help Cinder instead of saving the Fall Maiden from her. You _chose_ to help destroy Beacon. You _chose_ to shoot my father. You’re not supposed to do the right thing because it’s easy or fun. Because it’s not. Life isn’t a fairy tale or some grand adventure. Helping others, no matter how much joy you get out of it, hurts, because in the end it means not helping yourself. When was that last time you did something not because it was fun, or your duty, or easy, but just because it was right?”

Never.

All his life, he’d gone through the motions. His father had raised him, so he owed him obedience. The Holy Church had raised his father, so he’d joined them as an accordance of thanks and for the structure they provided to his otherwise meaningless and formless life. Even staying alive after his wife Claudia committed suicide was done not for her, but because it was his duty as a husband to ensure her death was not in vain. He had never done anything solely because it was right.

But then again…

“Who has?” he queried. “We are all bound either by our sins and desires, or our duties. Those we give ourselves and those that are given us by others. You wanted to become a huntress because you thought it would be fulfilling, fun, but I doubt you saw entering the war as either of those things. So why did you, if not for the duty you had given yourself as a huntress?”

Ruby did not respond. She slumped back into her chair, a scowl of discontent on her lips.

Kirei could not be more thrilled. She was nearly there! Her little speech had proved it! Just as Kiritsugu was pursuing his ideals, so was now was Ruby as she sought her dream. But she was undeterred! Undeterred in her quest for heroism! She would never forgive him! They were now and forever enemies!

It was wonderous. She just needed one more push. One more push and he was sure she’d be his perfect foe.

And when Kiritsugu slew Archer, she’d go right off the cliff.

But until then…

Kirei held up his hand and called over a waiter. “One order of Mapo Tofu please.”

 

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Kiritsugu should have been overjoyed.

His family was right in front of him. His son and his granddaughter, from different lives yet both loved with all his heart. He’d never met Ruby. He’d barely lived long enough to send Summer off to Beacon. But even still, he saw the steel in the girl’s silver eyes. His second daughter’s eyes. She had her strength and he could feel her compassion as well. She was a Rose, through and through.

But Kirei had his eye on her. He didn’t know why he was so interested her other than her connection to him, but he had singled the young girl out for conversation in the café. He spoke with her almost casually, while the huntress herself seemed tense, like an angry cat desperately trying to keep from pouncing. Nevertheless, she kept her emotions in check to keep the innocents around her safe. She sacrificed her own desires, the nearly irresistible urge to tear the smirking priest apart piece by piece.

Kiritsugu could not have been prouder.

And the figure in front of him just made him regretful. Perhaps his greatest mistake of many.

Archer stood across the doorway from him, his fists clenched tight at his sides and his eyes glaring like daggers. Across his face was fury, elemental and pure like a typhoon of blades. If his pitiless stare was any kind of Noble Phantasm. Assassin had no doubt he would have been dead. And he would have deserved it.

Kiritsugu accepted his fate. He’d chosen it more than once, horrible as it was, because it gave him a chance to do _some_ good. It was not good, but it was enough.

But Archer… how had this happened? He should have been happy. He should have been saved. He had saved him.

“Shirou—”

“ _Do. Not. Call. Me. That,_ ” Archer snarled. “ _That boy_ was a fool. A fool so obsessed with having been saved that he threw away the life he was given.”

Kiritsugu bowed his head in shame. He’d done this. His ideals, his dream of being a hero… he hadn’t realized what he was doing when he’d told Shirou about them.

“Son…” he whispered. “I’m so sorr—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Archer demanded. “It doesn’t fix anything.”

“Still, I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted this for you.” Kiritsugu muttered, his voice hoarse and tear-choked. “How many of you did it?”

Archer cocked an eyebrow. “How many did what?”

“How many took Alaya’s contract?” Kirisugu sighed. “How many of my sons did I doom?”

“How many… I see. That would explain how you know about both me and Summer Rose.” Archer observed. “You’re some sort of amalgam of every Kiritsugu Emiya who took The World’s contract, maybe even bits and pieces of those who didn’t.”

“And you’re just one Shi—” He stopped at Archer’s glare intensified.

Still, it was somewhat of a relief. He would have rather that no version of his son was ever so corrupted that he became a Counter Guardian, but if it was any number, he was glad it was just one. At least it was only one dagger in his heart.

“What is your wish?” he inquired. “For the grail. What is your wish for the grail?”

Archer shrugged. “None. Just like you, I imagine. There is something I want to, but there is nothing the grail can give me. I am here to help my master.”

Despite himself, a ghost of a smile fluttered across Kiritsugu’s face. “Your niece, you mean? I’m glad you could meet her. Maybe… maybe she can ease the doom I left you in.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Archer scowled. “Let’s get something straight. I chose this path. It was stupid, and foolish, and I regret it every single day, but I chose it. Not you. You did not force to be a hero. You gave me your ideals, and perhaps I hate you for that, but I chose to take them up and follow them to the end. I made myself a Counter Guardian, not you.”

He heard the words, but Kiritsugu could not find any comfort in them. His son… he should have raised him better. He should have taught him to measure his ideals. He should have warned him of what lay at the end of the path of heroism. If he had, maybe Archer would not have stood before him now, his body rigid like steel and his eyes blazing with fire behind them.

A single tear fell from those eyes.

Kiritsugu’s eyes widened. He raised his head, his mouth agape.

No more tears fell from Archer’s eyes, but they remained wet. “Even still, this fate, no matter how much I despise it, is infinitely preferable to the alternative. Your face… your face as you pulled me out of the fire, out of hell, is the first thing I can remember. I should never have become obsessed with having it as my own, but I have never wished to have died in that hell. Whatever your ideals, whatever they led me to do after my time, the life I lived with them, is not one I regret. You saved me. You are my father. Whatever our sins, whatever our failures, I have never regretted that.”

Moisture clustered behind Kiritsugu’s vision. He wanted to tell himself it was only rain, but the café patio had an awning.

“Be careful, Archer. Kotomine—”

“Is a sick bastard. I know. I fought him in my life.”

Kiritsugu gulped. “More than that. He doesn’t have a motive. He doesn’t want money or power, he just wants to watch the world burn.”

“Well, he missed the ball on that one,” Archer remarked. “The world already burned. This is just the ashes. And since Gilgamesh seems to have taken a liking to them, he shouldn’t be able to do too much damage.”

“That’s only as long as he sides with him.” Kiritsugu pointed out.

Archer opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the café door opening. Ruby strode out.

Kiritsugu wanted to talk with her. He wanted to ask her what Summer was like as a mother, how she’d grown up, how his little girl had done as a mother.

But she didn’t even look at him.

“Archer, come on. We’re done here,” she ordered succinctly. “We need to find Yang.”

She quickly walked off, her head bowed under her crimson hood.

Archer nodded to his father once and then dissipated into spirit form.

A moment later, Kirei walked out of the café, a Styrofoam box in his arms and a smirk on his lips.

Kiritsugu knew nothing good could possibly come from that smile. The next thing out of those lips would be an insidious plot that would make even the most hardened of criminals go pale with terror.

Kirei held out the styrofoam box to him. “Mapo Tofu?”

…

…

…

It was a trap. It had to be a trap. He was using Kiritsugu’s favorite food against him. The damn bastard had reached a new low.

But it was also his favorite food…

Damn it. He couldn’t be sure.

One day. One day, he would kill that damn smirking priest.

And then he would eat his Mapo Tofu.

 

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Archer seethed as he walked behind Ruby, the café having completely faded behind them. That could have been an utter disaster.

They had been completely caught off guard. Once he saw Kiritsugu, his mind practically shut down. All he could feel was the cornucopia of rival emotions that tore through him when it came to his father. He didn’t even have the sense to trace Rule Breaker and sever the bastard’s contract with Kotomine. He’d let Ruby go off with the priest _alone._

“What did he want?” he asked his master urgently.

Ruby shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe just to play mind games, maybe to see if I’d changed since Beacon. He wants me to become his ‘perfect enemy’ or whatever. A hero he can have fun fighting.”

Archer nodded. He did seem to recall his Kotomine’s excitement to be facing ‘the heir of Kiritsugu Emiya’. He never did find out what that was about. Azoth daggers to the heart tended to cut off such lines of questioning.

“Did you get any clues about his next move at least?” Archer inquired. “Why is he in Mistral?’

“I don’t know about Mistral. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. But I think I know what his next move is.”

“Oh? What is that?

“He’s going to send Kiritsugu after you with a Command Seal.” Ruby declared. “He got way too excited when I mentioned that we’d found a way to get two wishes. The only way he could derail that plan would be to kill you. And there’s no way he’d ask Gilgamesh to do it.”

“Having us fight it out does seem like the crueler option,” Archer noted. “I take it you avoided speaking to Kiritsugu in preparation for such a battle?”

His niece was one of the gentlest souls he could remember encountering. And her late mother was a particular point of interest to her. Either one of those emotional through lines would lend her to a conversation with a new person, and her grandfather invoked both. Thus, her refusal to do so was somewhat confounding.

Ruby clenched her fists, her face set in a frown. “I don’t want to. But he’s my family so if I talk to him, I’ll start to care about him. He’ll become my friend. And then my Command Seal will get you killed when he comes for you.”

Archer nodded. He was proud. He wanted his father to live as much as anyone else, but if he had to choose between him and letting himself die, and therefore being unable to protect Ruby and the innocents of Remnant, he would choose the latter. He would love to save both, but Ruby only had one more Command Seal, and he wasn’t willing to put any of the others at risk. Perhaps against the Alters, but his father was a different matter entirely. Like himself, he was a Counter Guardian, which meant he did not have a Noble Phantasm. But if his Reality Marble was proof of anything, it was that lacking one did not reduce one’s danger at all.

He did not know why Kiritsugu being a Counter Guardian bothered him so much. In hindsight, it made perfect sense that at least one version of his father, or multiple as the case apparently was, would follow the same path he had and accept a contract with Alaya. But he refused to accept it. He couldn’t accept it.

He could not accept that the man who had experienced the euphoria of truly saving someone had given up on the quest to do so again. He could not accept that the path of the Hero of Justice was doomed to end with Alaya no matter who walked it. Perhaps for _that boy,_ perhaps Summer Rose, but not… not his father.

But he had to. He had to accept reality. It was what it was.

He glanced at Ruby as she strode down the road, her red hood blowing in the breeze.

A smile graced his lips. No. He would make it better. If the world was flawed, he’d do his part to make it a little more flawless. It might be a burden to bear, but it was not solely his anymore.

Even if it was just for this life, this brief flicker in his eternal flame of service to Alaya, he was not alone.

Ruby smiled back at him. “Come on. We need to find Yang before someone else does. This place is too dangerous to be alone.”

Archer nodded. “Lead the way, Ruby.”

 

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“And that’s why I need you to wish for my dad to be healed.” Yang finished. She gazed up fearfully at Rider. “Well? What do you say?”

Iskandar stared back at her, his eyes narrowed. The two stood outside the entrance to the restaurant Sable had told them about. The Jim guy that she’d mentioned had been a bit annoyed that they’d been dropped on his plate, especially since the place seemed quite busy, even for a dinner rush. Still, he was more than accommodating, only telling them to wait a bit while he made sure that had a space available for them.

In the meantime, Yang had told Rider everything. Ruby’s plan, her ambition to save her father and kill Salem, everything. In the end, she’d made her plea for him to help her. For him to give up his dream of reincarnation and save her father.

Throughout the entire thing, the King of Conquerors had been completely stone-faced. Yang was worried she’d finally done it, she’d finally crossed one of his few lines. He’d hate her. He’d kill her where she stood rather than give up his dream of a new life.

At least, until he burst out laughing.

“Hahahahahaha! Oh, little girl, that has got to be the most outrageous request anyone has ever made of me.” the Servant of the Mount proclaimed. “And to make it right to my face. You do not lack for courage.”

Yang cringed, letting a nervous chuckle escape her lips. “So, is that a yes?”

“Oh, Gods of Olympus, no.” Rider succinctly informed her. “I’ve not come so far as to surrender my dream over a mere request, even one as noble as yours, master.”

Yang sighed. “Yeah, I figured that was going to be your answer.”

“It’s a fact of life. People want what they want and those desires rarely align perfectly.” Iskandar remarked. “Still, you did well to be so upfront about your plan. Knowing what each other wants is crucial in any partnership.”

“You’re not mad?” Yang asked disbelievingly. “I just told you that I’m effectively rooting for another team to win. How do you know I’m not going to just use a Command Seal to make you commit suicide so Ruby and Archer will get the Grail?”

“Are you planning to do that?”

Yang’s eyes widened. “Well, no. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

Iskandar nodded. “Precisely. The battle before us will be an arduous one. Who knows if we’ll make to the grail, or if Archer will, or if any of us will even be alive for whatever the final clash is. Whatever the case, we have to get there first, defeat this Salem woman, before we can worry about some moral dilemma. Besides, I don’t think you’re the type to force someone to kill themselves.”

“I’m not.” Yang declared vehemently. But even as she said it, her confidence wavered. “At least, I don’t think I am.”

War… war changed people. Ruby, though she’d found a way to save everyone, once would have never accepted doing anything less. Back at Beacon, Jaune would never have even thought of leaving anyone behind, let alone letting one of their parents die. She’d seen Ren, normally stoic but observant, flee contact from even Nora. She wanted to believe that she’d always be someone who’d never betray her friends. But with the turmoil going on around them, she just didn’t know. She didn’t know what any of them would become. And that… that terrified her.

She felt a soft pat on her shoulder. She turned her head to see her Servant smiling softly down upon her.

“Our dreams are like stars. They draw us towards them with their brilliance and inspire us to dedicate everything we have to reaching them. But their light can be so blinding, it is sometimes difficult to remember it needs to be _us_ who reaches our dreams.” Iskandar explained. “If we compromise who we are for the sake of our ideals, have we truly ever reach them? If I had lowered myself under the command of another king, perhaps I could have reached Okeanos in my lifetime, but it would not have been as the King of Conquerors. Even as you find yourself evolving throughout this war, have faith that you can stay true to yourself along the way. Saving your father is a noble goal. But far more important is to not kill Yang Xiao-Long in the process. Not when you have the rest of your life ahead of you.”

“The rest of my life?” Yang snorted. “You do know we’re playing for the fate of the world, right?”

Iskandar made to pat the top of her head. Her eyes turning red warned him off, so he just shrugged and slapped her on the back again.

“No one ever said the Holy Grail War was going to be the single most important event in your life. Even with the stakes involved, after we win, and I do believe we’ll win, life will go on.” Iskandar comforted her. “The tale of Yang Xiao-Long will continue, as a huntress or whatever else you want to be. And there will be many more victories and defeats that will mark your path. Who knows, you might even be standing at my side as I conquer the world.”

Yang chuckled. “Maybe. But if it comes down to it, you versus Archer for the grail, what will you do if I don’t support you.”

“I suspect my heart will dance,” Iskandar said. “It tends to do that when I face a worthy adversary.”

Yang blinked in shock, then shook her head with disbelief. “You really know how to make a girl blush, you know that?”

“What can I say, when you conquer the known world, you pick up a few things.”

The door in front of them opened up. A short, slight man in a firmly pressed waiter uniform stuck his head out.

“You two are lucky Sable’s popular around here,” Jim informed them. “The only tables we got left are in the back, but the manager’s agreed to let you have it.”

“Thank you, my good sir,” Iskandar replied. He smirked at Yang. “You head along ahead, master. I’m going to see what drinks they have at the bar.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “Sure, big guy. Snag me a strawberry sunrise if you can.”

“Ha! With pleasure!”

The Servant of the Mount dissipated into sapphire dust.

Jim’s eyes went wide. “Did… did he… what just…”

“Teleporting semblance. Very rare, very flashy. Don’t think too hard about.”

“Erh… right.”

The poor guy nervously led Yang into the restaurant, past the chaos of the kitchen as chefs frantically prepared dishes with names the huntress probably couldn’t pronounce and into the slightly more ordered turmoil of the main dining area. All around, families conversed at polished square tables or single patrons got into their cups at the fully loaded bar. Iskandar was already starting up a ruckus among the latter group.

Eventually, Yang arrived at one of those classic Mistralian sliding doors, the ones that looked like walls made of paper but always had something hidden behind them in the _John Binding_ movies.

“This area is not normally used for normal customers,” Jim informed her. “Until this one guy started paying big bucks for it about a week ago, I don’t think I ever saw anyone in it.”

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “Is this guy in there now?”

“Yes, and he’s very… temperamental. Sable’s the only person I know who can handle him without him getting too uppity. What I’m trying to say is, please don’t make him mad. He tips really well.”

“I’ll try,” Yang promised. “But me and arrogant jerks usually don’t make for a good combo.”

Jim sighed. “Great. Sable owes me big time for this.”

He pulled back the wall and led her into the room.

“Mongrel. I require more wine.”

Yang frowned as soon as she heard those words. The back area was indeed a bit fancier than the main area, scented candles and optional massage chairs in clear view. But she did not take kindly to anyone addressing their servers so derogatorily.

The man who’d spoken, the only other one in the area, had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He wore a black and white sports jacket over black pants and a white shirt. His blond hair glistened like gold in the dim candlelight, his red eyes sparkling like fiery rubies. Despite the menagerie of empty wine bottles on his table, he didn’t seem to be the least bit drunk.

Indeed, though Yang could certainly sense the arrogance she’d gotten from his words, she wouldn’t describe the person before like one of the cocky bastards she’d dealt with back in Vale, like Mercury or Roman Torchwick. The man before her had unequaled confidence, but there was a natural sense of command in his voice, not like asking was beneath him but it simply wasn’t done. He wasn’t a man who asked. He was a man who declared his will and by doing so made it fact. His entire being radiated absolute authority.

It was terrifying. And yet, somehow, strikingly alluring.

Jim bowed hastily to the man. “Yes, sir! I’ll have another bottle of red brought out immediately.”

The waiter dashed off back to the main room, leaving Yang alone with the golden man.

Guessing that she should seat herself, Yang went over to an empty table and pulled out a chair.

“And who gave you permission to sit in my presence, girl?”

Yang turned around and frowned at the other blonde. “The restaurant. They let me in here after all.”

“Really? Strange,” the golden man remarked. “In all the time I have paid this establishment the glorious privilege of my patronage, they have never once insulted me by having another violate my dining area.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed at the man. If she was still the old her, her hair would have ignited already, and her fist would be halfway to the jerk’s face. Even now, she was considering it. “Look, buddy, I don’t know what to tell you. My friend Sable pulled some strings, but they didn’t have any room in the main area—”

“You are a friend of Sable’s, are you?” the golden man interrupted, his eyebrow quirked in interest. “And where perhaps is the young Ms. Arc today? Her absence has made this place far less entertaining.”

“She had to take care of family business,” Yang replied briskly. “Why do you ask? You got a crush on her or something?”

“A crush?” The golden man let out a haughty laugh. “Nothing so base, mongrel. She simply reminds me of a woman I once knew.  It is perhaps a bit indulgent to meander in such sentimentality, but I have only just recovered from a despicable assault. So I suppose I can afford a little bit of entertainment, don’t you agree?”

Yang looked to her right hand where her Command Seals were covered by her brown gloves. Her stomach churned a moment, remembering the crushing defeat it had suffered at Kirei’s hand.

“Sometimes you need to have some fun, recover a bit,” she noted. “But other times you just need to get back on the horse, as they say.”

“Ha. ‘They’ would require a horse in the first place. Still, you have some wisdom, girl,” the golden man remarked. “You may dine in presence, so long as you do not prove yourself an irritant.”

“Gee, thanks,” Yang muttered. “I’ll try not to breathe too loudly—”

“Master, they didn’t have a strawberry sunrise, but they recommended something else called a Seabreeze,” Iskandar informed her as he strode in. “I’ve had a few myself and they are really quite… delicious.”

Yang raised an eyebrow. Rider wasn’t exactly the type to trail off like that. Whatever he did, he usually finished it with aplomb. Yet now, he was frozen, her eyes locked on the golden man.

The blonde’s crimson eyes widened themselves at the sight of the Servant. A moment later, his mouth slid into a pleased smirk.

“King of Conquerors.”

Iskandar grinned. “King of Heroes. Ha! Never would have thought to find you in a place like this.”

“What can I say? For all this world lacks an average of quality wine, its reserves are quite exemplary if one knows where to look. Another trait it has over my garden.”

King of Heroes. Yang’s mind had frozen the moment Iskandar had spoken those words. Her eyes flared over the golden man. He was Gilgamesh? He was Kirei’s boss, or partner, or whatever? He was the guy who—

Yang's hands tightened into fists.

Gilgamesh didn’t even notice. He raised his hand, a pair of shimmering golden portals appearing in the air. One dropped a jug of wine onto the table, and the other deposited three golden goblets into his hands. He quickly filled the trio of cups with the beverage, sliding two to the other side of the table and keeping one for himself.

“Oh, and here I thought you enjoyed this place’s drink, Goldie,” Iskandar teased.

“It is tolerable. Still, for this occasion, only my own stores will do. Do you have any complaints, King of Conquerors?”

“No, none at all. I haven’t forgotten just how good your wine is.”

“Then you and your master shall join me for a drink. It has been too long since I had somewhat acceptable company.”

“No thanks,” Yang growled.

Gilgamesh glanced at her, his face a bit more stoic, offended by her refusal. Yet, his eyes still looked upon her with a spark of curiosity. “You would refuse a king’s invitation? I thought I warned about being an irritant, girl.”

“You killed my mother.” Yang snarled.

This bastard… he was the reason. The reason Summer never came back home all those years ago. The reason her dad fell into a depression. The reason she had to step up and be a caregiver to Ruby despite barely being able to take care of herself. The reason she ever doubted Summer was really her parent and chased after the memory of a woman who abandoned her.

“Did I?” Gilgamesh remarked. He squinted at her a bit. His face descended into a disgruntled frown. “Oh yes. You do bare quite a resemblance to that _thief_.”

“Not Raven. I don’t care about some crazy bitch who only came back because she wanted my Servant,” Yang yelled. “Summer Rose! You murdered Summer Rose!”

“A king does not murder. He executes those criminals that dare to break his laws,” Gilgamesh declared with certainty, his voice as unmoving as a dam in a river. “And those thieves to which you refer committed a sin unmatched by any in history. Their deaths were justice of the highest order.”

Yang fumed. He dared! He dared to call the death of her mother justice!

Gilgamesh stood up, his eyes narrowed at her like a falcon that had sighted prey. “However, since they are dead, it is quite curious that you refer to one as if she had made an overture to you in this current war.”

Yang instantly seized up, panic running through her mind. She may not have liked Raven… at all, but she wasn’t about to set this manic on her. Back in Vale, she had seemed absolutely terrified of Gilgamesh. And with Ruby had described from the Fall, that fear was well earned.

She was feeling it herself and his gaze hardened on her.

“Aye, we saw her about a week ago, back in Vale,” Iskandar revealed urgently, sensing the other Servant’s rising ire towards his master. He threw up a teasing smile right after. “Guess your arsenal isn’t as perfect as you thought.”

Gilgamesh looked away. “That infernal mad dog and shapeshifting. What an irritating mutt.” His face shifted into… not a smile, but an acknowledgment of benefit. “Still, this turn of events provides… opportunity. Perhaps the grail will not be necessary.”

“Not be… didn’t you start this grail war?” Yang inquired. “And the last one?”

Gilgamesh turned back to her, a contented smirk back on his face. “Indeed. The last one was a matter of duty. Wonderful as this world is, it is irresponsible of a king to leave his realm unattended for so long. Though, I saw no harm in some final entertainment before I left.”

Entertainment? He killed Ms. Goodwitch’s sister for entertainment?

He frowned. “That was a mistake. Through that affair, the thieves learned of the magnificence of my treasury. Through base knavery, they raided my storehouse and made off with my second greatest treasure. Though I hunted them down and administered justice, or so I thought, my treasure was still lost to me. Since none knew of its location, the grail was necessary. But if the thief still lives, then the chalice is once again unnecessary.”

“Omnipotence, omnipotence that you sacked Vale to get a shot at, is unnecessary,” Yang bit out. “You were just going to use it to get your stuff back.”

“Of course. The grail should only be used for that which cannot be done without it,” Gilgamesh declared. “I did not decide to call upon the grail without due consideration, but the thieves hid my treasure well. I cannot sense it, so the only recourse was either the chalice or as it turns out, prying the truth from their barbarous lips. And then finishing casting judgment upon their wretched lives.”

Yang gulped. The man in front of her, he was terrifying. How many had he killed just to get whatever was stolen from him back? And now, as he stated his intent to slaughter the woman who birthed her, he didn’t raise his voice. His spoke softly, like a parent explaining the facts of the world to their child. Yet, she could feel his livid anger radiate off him in titanic waves, permeating the air with unquenchable fury. His presence was chilling, yet absolute. No one but the greatest of fools would dare challenge him like this.

“Hahaha! Glad to see your opinion of the cup hasn’t changed, King of Heroes.” Iskandar remarked, taking a long drink from his goblet. “Though since it has, I wonder if you might be willing to hear a little overture from my master.”

Yang’s eyes widened. He was actually going to try their plan from the woods? He was just going to ask Gilgamesh nicely to destroy Salem? That was asinine! Before she met the guy, she might have thought there was half a chance in hell that he would help, but now? The golden man was an arrogant, uncaring monster! How was he the King of Heroes?

Gilgamesh quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Consider me intrigued, King of Conquerors.”

“Well, you see, there’s a woman called Salem, she makes those pesky Grimm that are always around here.”

“Yes, those. Disgusting creatures.”

“Indeed. Her power apparently stems from some sort of Reality Marble. The grail could deal with it, and her, but my master has another goal in mind for the chalice. Her father has been stricken by a weapon called an Origin Round and the grail is the only thing that can heal him.”

“Hmm… Kirei mentioned those once, I believe. Potent little things. And what would you have of me?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d be amenable to taking care of this Salem woman so that my master was free to use the grail to save her father. A worthier ambition, don’t you think? The grail should only be used for that which cannot be done without it, after all.”

“Indeed,” Gilgamesh concurred. He gazed on Yang with a faint smile of respect. “You are one of those huntresses, are you not, child? Your commitment to your duty is admirable, your ambition for your loved ones more so.”

“Thank you,” Yang shuddered. Despite the man’s entire disposition, his praise didn’t feel like slime. Somehow, that pleasantness made it even more disturbing. “So, will you help?”

Gilgamesh hummed in thought for a moment. He finished off his goblet in a single gulp and then stood from the table.

“You have done me a service by informing me of the thief’s survival,” he noted. “Once I have concluded my business with her, I shall consider your request.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten rid of her yourself.” Iskandar revealed. “I don’t remember you being so tolerant of things you found disgusting.”

“Ha, really King of Conquerors, I am the sovereign of our world. To make changes to this one without the request of its occupants would simply not be proper form.”

Yang cocked an eyebrow. Why was he talking about Remnant like it was a different world from the one the Heroic Spirits came from?

“More importantly,” Gilgamesh continued, a roguish smirk directed towards Iskandar. “My word to you still stands, Rider. Do you wish to challenge me again?”

Iskandar’s grin rose to the golden man’s prompting. “Are you sure you want to? Raven Branwen and Summer Rose took what I think they did from your treasury, you might not have as easy a time as you did before.”

“What was it you said last time? ‘Tonight, I am less than perfect, and so am greater than perfection itself.’”

Iskandar burst out laughing. “True, true. Still, I’ve not been in this world long. I’d like to enjoy it a bit more before finally defeating you, Goldie.”

“Wonderful. I shall count on you to thin the unworthy mongrels from this contest.” Gilgamesh declared. He opened another portal and left a hunk of gold on the table. “This should cover your meal. I bid you farewell, King of Conquerors. I have a _thief_ to find.”

Another wave of his hand and a golden gate appeared behind him. He stepped through it and disappeared, the goblets he left behind dissipating into shimmering dust.

Yang let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Despite her best efforts, she was terrified. Gilgamesh was in the city, and because of her outburst, he knew Raven was alive. The best Yang could hope for was that the bandit leader would have as much luck evading him as she had the last few decades, but she sensed that would not be so.

Iskandar slumped in his chair. “Well, I believe that went rather well.”

“Because we survived?” Yang asked.

“Because he likes you.” Rider informed her. “Which means he may just be willing to perform that favor you asked of him. You’ll have to swear fealty to him probably, but maybe—”

“No,” Yang stated definitively. “He killed my mother. I will never swear _fealty_ to him. You said I shouldn’t sacrifice myself for my goal. Dad would kick my ass if he found out I gave Summer’s murderer a free pass, let alone agreed to work for him.”

Iskandar grinned. “Very well then. We’ll just have to defeat him then. Honestly, that’ll probably be more fun anyway.”

Yang smirked at her Servant. “What do you think Raven stole from him? You seemed like you had an idea.”

“A suspicion,” he clarified. “I’m not sure enough just yet, but if I’m right, this war will be even more interesting than I thought.”

“Really? Well, I guess we—”

Yang paused when her scroll started vibrating. She picked it up and looked at the ‘messages’ screen. A massive text from Blake popped up.

“What’s that?” Iskandar inquired.

“Blake, apparently we all need to meet up. Ozpin and Uncle Qrow don’t think the safe house is secure anymore, so we’re all meeting at the Arcs’ motel.”

“How do they know about that?”

“Who knows? Ruby probably messaged Qrow when we got there,” Yang deduced. “Either way, we better eat up while we can.”

Iskandar eyed the golden bar Gilgamesh had left behind. He smiled. “Well, it’s not like Archer can complain about us breaking the budget.”

Yang joined in the grin. The bastard had killed her mother, was hunting the woman who birthed her, and supported the guy who’d put her father on death’s door.

She didn’t really feel guilty about taking a meal out of his pocket.


	52. A Father's Counsel

“Bastard, bastard, bastard…” Mordred muttered as she swatted Clarent at Jaune’s sword. If she yelled, there was a chance Amber might hear and Sapphire had been quite open about her wishes regarding profanity around the youngest sister during this temperamental time. So she kept her voice as low as she could while she and her master sparred in the motel courtyard.

For once, she wasn’t mad at Jaune. He had told her the truth. About Ruby’s plan, and more importantly, Archer’s past indiscretions with father. Thus, she imagined the stupid jester’s smirking face every time she struck Crocea Mors.

Granted, this also left her a bit blind to her master’s mad scrambling to parry her strikes as her enhanced Servant strength and speed began to seep into her assault.

“Saber! Saber!” he shouted frantically.

With a final yell, she slashed at Crocea Mors, sending Jaune skidding across the pavement, his aura desperately flashing to keep him together. He panted, his eyes wide as he gazed up at her.

“You good?”

Mordred let out a mighty sigh. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry about that, master.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “But do you think we can work on that Invisible Air thing that Archer mentioned? I don’t want to be a burden to you if I have to use Strike Air in a fight.”

“Sure. I don’t know too much about it though.” Mordred informed him. “The one time my mother explained it, she said it was similar to my Red Thunder, except you hold it in. You know, keep it continuously cycling around instead of releasing it all in one giant burst. The wind somehow reflects light in such a way that the sword becomes invisible to the eye. It gives the blade a shield and gives you a crucial advantage in a duel.”

“If the enemy doesn’t know how long your sword is, they don’t know how to measure their strikes.” Jaune nodded. “So, I guess, I just keep practicing. Like last night?”

“Seems like the only way.”

Jaune raised his broadsword in both hands. He closed his eyes. His aura glowed a pure white, soon joined by flecks of blue and gold dust. Wind slowly gathered around Crocea Mors, leaking out in random gales.

Her master scrunched his face. Sweat poured down his forehead. The wind compressed around his sword, forging a stable cocoon of a tornado. The blade was still easily visible, but it was something.

A few moments later, Jaune lowered the weapon, the wind fortunately rushing off as a strong breeze instead of a blast of Strike Air.

Mordred whistled. “You learn fast, master.”

“It’s not enough. It took everything I had just to control it,” Jaune panted. “I couldn’t make it invisible.”

Mordred shrugged. “The point isn’t to imitate father. The point is to get better control over your aura, so you can do this stuff without wiping me out. And I didn’t even feel a strain during that little session. I’d call that a success.”

“It’s something, at least. I’ll need to do it for more than a few seconds in a real fight,” Jaune remarked, clearly still unsatisfied. “How are you doing, by the way? I know the others bombarded you pretty hard with questions.”

Somehow, Mordred felt herself both pale in trauma and grin in glee. “It was… strange. I’m not really used to people being so interested in me. I’ve never had siblings. My only family before was father, who didn’t acknowledge me, and my mother, and the less said about her the better. Your sisters are… kinder than I expected, especially considering the circumstances. Thank you for not telling them about my full past with father.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jaune replied. “Figured that was a bit much to put on them with everything going on right now. Though you know, they’re your sisters too. The past is the past. They’d understand.”

Mordred raised an eyebrow. “Would you have, if you hadn’t seen the Memory Cycle from my point of view?”

“Point taken,” Jaune conceded. “But there is a way they wouldn’t care. The past is the past, but if you could improve the present—”

“I know where you’re going with this, master,” Mordred cut him off. “I told you before, changing the past, even to bring back father and your partner, is disrespectful to their choices. Archer may be willing to use his wish to save Taiyang Xiao-Long, but if the man was dead, you can be sure he would be singing a different tune.”

“Is there a way you could do both?” Jaune inquired. “Save Taiyang and—”

“You’re not listening. So long as the huntsman lives, there is no issue with using the Grail to let him keep on living, but bringing back the dead by altering fate is not an option. While the chalice could probably do it, it is unacceptable to alter the choices of others. Besides, they are two different tasks, which requires two different wishes. Even if I were to give up mine, which I won’t, it still wouldn’t be enough unless you plan to let Salem live.”

Jaune frowned sadly. “I know, it’s just… Amber and everyone… they’re all suffering. I want to help them. I want to be able to fix everything.”

“And that’s noble of you, master.” Mordred comforted him. “But to get what you want no matter what means being willing to cross any line. And that means not caring for those you might hurt along the way. Take it from someone who knows, it would make you a monster, even if your intentions were good.”

Jaune looked down at his hands. “I know. I know, it’s just… lately, it seems like the monsters are the only ones who’re winning. Sometimes I don’t know how any of us are supposed to win the Grail. It doesn’t seem like heroes matter at all.”

Mordred scowled. She smacked the flat of Crocea Mors, raising the sword to Jaune’s eye level. “If heroes didn’t matter, this sword wouldn’t be here. It’s been passed down your family for generations, right? And your partner’s gear is a part of it? You wouldn’t have a weapon, this weapon, if heroes didn’t matter. They made sure you’d have a sword this fine, with this much history, by your side for this fight. Hell, add a bit of will and a whole lot of magic and this thing could practically be a Noble Phantasm.”

Jaune quirked an eyebrow. “Is that how Noble Phantasms work? I thought you had to be a Servant to have one.”

Mordred gestured to the sheathed Excalibur at her belt. “A Noble Phantasm is the crystallization of a hero’s legend. Whether that weapon or hero gains enough power to rise to that level has no link to whether they’re dead or alive. Father had his sword when he was alive, and I had mine. So did most of the Knights of the Round Table.”

“I don’t think Crocea Mors can shoot laser beams,” Jaune joked.

“Not that I know of.” a new voice chimed in.

Mordred and Jaune whirled around to the entrance of the courtyard. Standing there in rugged white armor with a simple, cheap looking sword at his side was a tall, bulky blond man. His shaggy golden beard weighed down his face, giving him an exhausted, yet not unkind air to him. His crystal blue eyes gazed upon Master and Servant likes the soothing waves of a soft ocean.

Mordred recognized him from the family photos. He’d been the one who’d always had an arm around father.

“Dad,” Jaune muttered. “I… I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.”

Nicholas Arc smiled balefully at his son. “Sorry Jaune. I got your letter, but Atlas closed its borders before—”

“I know,” Jaune interrupted hesitantly. “Sapphire explained everything.”

“Oh. Good, good.”

Mordred wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected from her… stepmother? Stepfather? Whatever. Jaune’s father was a huntsman, which by default meant he could not be weak, especially so since it appeared he had continued to work even when Jaune had taken his weapon to Beacon. But she’d expected the person who’d won father’s heart to be… bolder? More striking, at least. Nicholas Arc looked more like a kicked puppy than a warrior imposing enough to make an impression on the King of Knights.

Then again, what was a man supposed to look like when his wife was dead, and his son had been missing for months fighting a death match for the fate of the world?

The man’s gaze shifted to her. He smiled softly. “You must be Mordred. It’s nice to meet you. You look just like she said you would.”

Mordred blinked at the almost serene greeting. Father had told him about her? “Um… hello… Princess Con… Prince Consort?”

“Saber!” Jaune hissed.

The big blond man chuckled. “Just call me Nic. Or Mr. Arc if you have to be formal.”

“Uh, sure, Mr. Arc,” Mordred replied unsurely. “Nice to meet you too.”

Nicholas nodded. “If it’s alright with you, could I borrow Jaune for a moment? I need to hash some things out with him.”

Jaune frowned. “Dad, whatever you need to say to me, you can say to Mor—”

“Nah, it’s alright master.” Mordred declared. Jaune was being overly defensive after her worry about the past coming out, but she didn’t sense any malice in Nicholas’ request. He just wanted to talk with his son and, despite his admirable façade, he was unsure how to behave around Mordred.

That was fine. She had no idea how to act around him either.

“I’ll keep watch for the others’ return,” she stated. A moment later, she dissipated into spirit form, leaving father and son to their own devices.

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

Jaune gulped as Mordred disappeared. He turned to face his father.

His dad was smiling at him, but the gesture felt weaker than the last time Jaune had seen him, exhausted even. His cheeks sagged, as if his golden sideburns were weights on his face.

“So that’s spirit form.” he whistled. “Your mother, she mentioned it, but she couldn’t do for some reason.”

“She told you?” Jaune asked.

“We were married for twenty-five years, Jaune. She told me when she was pregnant with Sapphire. She was worried there might be complications, what with her technically being the spirit of a dead person.”

Jaune gulped. “How much did she tell you?”

Nicholas’ smile waned. He sat down on the short stone steps that connected the courtyard to the motel and patted the spot next to him. Jaune trudged over. He deactivated Crocea Mors’ broadsword mode and returned it to its sheath before sitting down.

“You upgraded it,” Nicholas observed.

“My partner… she… she died at the Fall.” Jaune explained. “I know it’s a family heirloom and I stole it in the first place, but we still had some of her gear and… and I didn’t want to let go.”

“Yeah… your mother called before the singles round, mentioned her. Pyrrha Nikos, right?”

Jaune smiled wistfully. “Yeah. She trained me. Believed in me, even when I didn’t. Without her, I wouldn’t have survived Beacon. She laid the foundation of everything that I am.”

Nicholas grinned, for once not tired but proud. “Then I’d say she’s more than earned her place on that sword.”

Jaune frowned. He unstrapped Crocea Mors from his side and shoved it towards his father. “This is yours. I took it and left you defenseless.”

“A huntsman is never defenseless,” his father declared. He pushed the sword back into Jaune’s hands. “This sword is meant to be passed down through the Arc family from father to son. Let’s call your trip to Beacon the beginning of your term.”

Jaune gaped at his father. He felt his eyes grow wet. “How? How aren’t you angry? I… stole your sword. I ran away in the middle of the night. Mom… mom…”

He didn’t get to finish. His father enveloped him in a massive hug.

“You did what you had to do to obtain your dream. You couldn’t have known what would happen at Beacon.” Nicholas comforted him. “But a man’s worth is shown when he is placed in the middle of events he couldn’t possibly have predicted. You fought. You fought and with this sword, you survived and made it back to us. I’m proud of you, Jaune. And I know your mother would be too.”

Tears streamed down Jaune’s face. “I… I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t have made it alone. I had Mordred, and Ruby, and even Archer… Mom. She wanted me to tell you something, but… but my semblance… it took her power. I don’t know what she was going to say! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He couldn’t fix it. He just couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t help his sisters. He couldn’t repair his family. Mordred had been his only chance and she wouldn’t help him, probably shouldn’t. She knew better than to change fate.

Nicholas pulled Jaune in tighter. For several moments, the two men just sat there, the desperate son crying against the stalwart father.

“Jaune.” his dad whispered. “What did she call me? In the end, did she call me Nick or Nicholas?”

“What?” Jaune whimpered. “I… I don’t know. She didn’t finish. I think… I think she was going to say Nicholas.”

Jaune felt a new wetness splash against his cheek. He looked up and saw a soft stream of tears falling from his father’s eyes.

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” he remarked. “Never could get her to use the stupid nickname.”

He wiped the tears from his face and pushed Jaune out to arm’s length. He smiled. “Was there anything, anything at all, that you could have done to change that night? To save your mother or your partner?”

“Well… no. But—”

“Then stop kicking yourself. You’ve still got the rest of your team and your friends. Not to mention your new big brother.”

Despite himself, Jaune chuckled. “So, you know about that little quirk?”

“I got the uncensored version of your bedtime stories, kiddo.” Nicholas joked. “Your mother may have mentioned the perils of referring to her first child as a woman, along with her experience in the last grail war. She had more than a few nightmares about it. I can’t tell you how many times I woke up to shouts of ‘Lancelot’ or ‘Diarmuid’.”

“I see,” Jaune replied. “You know, Mordred isn’t a bad person. She didn’t rebel for the hell of it.”

“I’m well aware. Your mother was quite insistent that the insurrection was her own failure.” his father answered. “She always spoke rather highly of Mordred. Said she needed to stop throwing her sword away in fights, but other than that she was a good knight. Just… one who she failed to guide.”

Jaune gaped. His mom… didn’t hate Mordred? That was great! She’d be thrilled to hear that! It was great news!

But it meant mom blamed herself. She shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been raised to be the perfect king and nothing else.

“See?”

Jaune looked up. His father had a light, joking smile on his face.

“You get your tendency to blame yourself from her.”

It was a pitiful attempt at lightening the mood, but Jaune managed a chortle.

Nicholas patted him on the back. “Mordred will keep you safe. Just like you’ll keep him safe. Neither of you can win this mess alone. If you’re together, we’ll see the sunrise tomorrow.”

Jaune scoffed. “With any luck.”

“Jaune.”

Both Arc men turned their heads down the hall. A familiar redhead in a pink combat skirt stood before them.

“Nora, hi.” Jaune greeted. He gestured to his father. “This is my dad. Dad, this is one of my teammates, Nora Valkyrie.”

Nichols sent her a soft smile. “Greetings.”

“Oh, you’re Mr. Arc?” Nora questioned. “But, you’re so… muscular, and Jaune… isn’t.”

Jaune sighed, but he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips. Trust Nora to speak her mind.

“What’s up?” he inquired. “How did you even get here?”

“We walked, silly,” Nora explained. “Ruby sent us a message that you were hanging out here with your family, and since Lionheart’s apparently a traitor and the safehouse isn’t safe anymore, we came here to meet up.”

Jaune sighed, smacking his face into his palm. He doubted they had had many options with their base compromised on such short notice, but did they have to paint a potential target on the place where his family was staying? Oh well. Qrow and Ozpin were old pros at this sort of thing. They definitely knew how to keep their names off motel payments. Even if Headmaster Lionheart was against them, they would be able to avoid his eyes this way.

“Ruby and Yang just got back,” Nora told him. “They said they’ve got some news, and Blake and Sun ran into Weiss in the city. We’re meeting in the lounge to figure out our next move.”

Jaune’s eyes were immediately alert at the mention of Weiss. How had Blake and Sun escaped her? It had taken all of them just to hold her off at Kuroyuri.

No matter. The war wasn’t on hold just because he’d reunited with his family. They had to keep going, keep moving forward. Or Salem would annihilate them all.

“I’ll be there soon,” he replied.

Nora gave him a thumb’s up. “Great! Tell Mor-Mor I brought snacks.”

With that, the excitable huntress dashed down the hall.

Jaune sighed and turned to his dad. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk more. Maybe you can sit in on the meeting, fill in any details we miss?”

His dad didn’t respond. Indeed, his eyebrow was cocked in confusion.

“Your brother lets her call him Mor-Mor?”

Jaune opened his mouth to respond, but in the end, found he couldn’t. Not like he knew how that weirdness had come about.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Ruby’s head fell into her hands. “Well, this has gone from bad to worse.”

Everyone had gathered in the motel common room to figure out their next move, with Mr. Arc listening in to provide more information about the state of things in Mistral. The sisters, thankfully, were absent preparing for bed. After the day she’d had, Ruby honestly wished she could join them.

“Perhaps not, Ms. Rose,” Ozpin mentioned, his hand rising to scratch Oscar’s chin in thought. “True, many of our enemies are in one place, but we are not without advantages. Though Leonardo has turned against us, he does not know that we are aware of his treachery.”

“Headmaster Lionheart…” Sun muttered, his blue eyes staring blankly at his hands. “I just… I can’t believe it. _He_ works for Salem. He was always so nice. Even when I stole from the school store, he just gave me a detention.”

Ruby felt for her friend. To her, Lionheart was just a name she’d heard thrown around by Uncle Qrow and dad when they were reminiscing about their glory days. He was muttered in the same breath as Ozpin and Miss Goodwitch and held the same status as a vague legend.

But to Sun, Lionheart was his headmaster, his teacher. It’d be like if she learned that Uncle Qrow was actually a serial killer. She couldn’t imagine what the poor boy was going through.

Qrow sighed. “I don’t like it either, kid, but too much lines up. Leo missed multiple check-ins before the Fall went down. Cinder and Kirei infiltrated Beacon through Haven. You yourself said you’d never seen them before the Vytal Festival. How could a headmaster miss four students who’d never attended a single class suddenly showing up fighting for his school on worldwide tv?”

Sun shook his head in disbelief. Blake put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Ozpin turned to Mr. Arc. “Nicholas, how many huntsmen do you think we could secure without Leonardo noticing? We’ll need assistance dealing with him and any other associates Salem may have overseeing him.”

Mr. Arc raised an eyebrow. “You’re Merlin, right? Most powerful wizard who ever lived?”

“Well not quite, the King of Magic is my superior if only by a slight margin.” Ozpin shook his head and sighed. “But, yes, Nicholas. I am Merlin, among others. I assume Arthur informed you of our history.”

“Mentioned you gave her a penis for a night.” Nicholas quipped. “Compared to that, I suppose possessing a farm boy isn’t too much of a stretch.”

“I didn’t… _huh_. I did not choose this curse. If I could keep Oscar safe from this fight, I would. But even if I tried to do nothing, Salem would stop at nothing to track down my newest reincarnation.” Ozpin explained. “Also, the penis plan seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Speaking as the result of said plan, it wasn’t.” Mordred snarked. She accepted a ball of cookie dough from Nora and took a highly emphasized bite.

Mr. Arc chuckled at Ozpin’s frown. “Apologies for any offense. Arturia cursed you a lot, but she did have quite a few good things to say.”

Ozpin blinked in shock. A regretful frown crossed his face. “I wish I could have earned them.”

Nicholas gave the old wizard a pitying look. “I don’t know how many huntsmen you’ll actually be able to find. The Council’s been going crazy with extermination missions lately. I’m not sure the kingdom actually has enough lien to pay out all the rewards they’re offering. I think I’m the only huntsman who’s even been in the city for the last week.”

“Oh, come on, there’s got to be someone else,” Yang said. “I mean, not all huntsmen are in it for the money or the job. There’s got to be at least one who felt like laying low after the Fall.”

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. “Why would cowards like that agree to help us?”

“I’m just spitballing here.”

“If anyone did stay back, they’re laying _real_ low,” Nicholas stated. “I’ve had my pick of investigative missions since we got here. Anyone who didn’t want to fight Grimm would be swiping those up.”

Qrow growled. “Leo has access to intel for every mission a huntsman accepts. He’d know exactly where they were going, their rendezvous points, everything. If he told Salem…”

“Then every huntsman in Mistral could be dead.” Archer finished. “Our enemy isn’t leaving anything to chance.”

“No, they’re not.” Blake agreed. “Weiss… she mentioned something during our talk.”

Ruby shuddered. She’d been horrified that Blake and Sun had encountered Weiss and Lancer Alter. With no one else around, she could have killed either of them on the merest of whims and the others would have never known. They were lucky to get out alive.

Though, Weiss’ new resolution terrified Ruby. While she was glad her partner no longer wanted to kill her, her new goal of creating Team RWBY Alter was in some ways even more disturbing, as were the implications of what she planned to do to those she saw as having ‘deceived’ them. Even if they would survive whatever apocalypse Salem would bring about, it wasn’t a happy ending Ruby was willing to allow. She couldn’t allow Yang or Blake to be twisted like Weiss had been.

“What did she say, Miss Belladonna?” Ozpin inquired. “Did she give you a clue at Salem’s next move?”

“I don’t know,” Blake confessed. “But, she mentioned something. About the White Fang. She said that soon they would kneel before Salem or be destroyed. I think they’re the next target.”

“And whoever they send is going to run right into Lancer and his master.” Mordred finished. “That bastard was strong, but he won’t be able to win against someone as powerful as Lancer Alter.”

“Which means at best, Salem will be one step closer to the Grail,” Jaune noted. “Or at worst, she could take the guy and turn him into another Alter.”

“We can’t let that happen.” Nora declared. “Sure, Lancer nearly killed Mor-Mor, but he wasn’t a jerk about it. He could have gone right through us when she was down, but he didn’t. He doesn’t deserve to be turned into one of Salem’s mooks. We need to get to him first and make sure that Mor-Mor gets her rematch!”

Mordred grinned. “I don’t know how you do it, my lady, but every time you open your mouth I find myself loving you even more.”

“Aw, thanks Mor-Mor! But my heart belongs to another.”

Mordred looked to Ren and grinned. “I kind of figured that.”

The green-robed huntsman suddenly looked very awkward.

Blake gazed up at the others. “I think… I think there might be another way. If Adam sees Salem’s forces, he might be willing to put his objections aside and ally with us to defeat her and Kirei.”

Ren cocked an eyebrow. “He didn’t believe you at Oniyuri. And even if he sees some proof of Salem, how do you know he won’t choose to ally with her instead of us? He did work with Cinder and Kirei during the Fall.”

“Cinder threatened his men.” Blake reminded them. “I don’t know if Adam will stay on our side after we deal with Salem. In fact, I’m positive he won’t, but he doesn’t want the world to end any more than the rest of us. Besides, Lancer is a knight, he will probably argue for working with us against the bigger threats.”

Ruby frowned at the argument. It made sense, and with their enemies mounting, they needed all the help they could get. Still, aside from Torchwick, the White Fang were the first bad guys she’d ever fought. Blake herself had led the team in investigating them. Now they were going to ask for help from a guy that even Blake admitted was crazy? It was mind-bending.

But, with Salem and Kirei on the prowl, and Gilgamesh having apparently healed from her blast at the Fall, they needed all the Servants they could get. It was like Archer said back at Patch. They needed to make allies, even those they’d normally prefer not to.

“Do it,” she commanded. “If you think you can convince Adam to work with us, do it.”

Blake nodded. “The White Fang’s Mistral headquarters isn’t too far from the city. With Rider’s chariot, we can leave at dawn and be there by the afternoon.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Jaune mentioned.

“She won’t be.” Sun declared. “Me and Yang will keep her safe.” He turned to Ruby’s sister. “I’m guessing Rider isn’t going anywhere without you?”

Yang smirked. “You guessed right. No way I’m letting my partner smack her ex around without me at least manning the getaway… chariot.”

“That might not be enough,” Jaune noted. “If Lancer Alter is there, Rider alone might not be enough. Ruby and Archer should go with you as well.”

“That would be unwise.” Archer declared. “Gilgamesh is in the city. If he tracks us down and learns of your family, he will not hesitate to try to eliminate them.”

“Wait, what?” Nicholas cried. “Why the hell would he do that?”

Archer looked at Mr. Arc with, not anger, but longing. Ruby understood his feelings. If he were to have any other life, the one Nicholas had lived with Arturia would be at the top of that list.

“He has an unhealthy sense of entitlement towards your wife.”

Jaune scowled. “If I leave you alone with—”

“For gods’ sake, no. I’m not doing that. It would be just as disgusting for me.”

Mordred glared at Archer, her arms crossed over her chest. “I can protect them just fine.”

“Not against Gilgamesh.” Archer reminded them. “Mordred, I’ve seen your father fight him. The King of Knights could only prevail with Avalon at full power. Otherwise, she was annihilated. Please, swallow your pride. You cannot beat him.”

The Knight of Treachery growled and looked away. Ruby recognized her ‘I know you’re right, but I’m never going to admit it’ look.

Fortunately, Jaune was a little less stubborn on that account. “Alright. I’m trusting you with my family, Archer. Don’t let me down.”

“I will protect them with my life.”

Ruby could tell he meant it.

Jaune nodded and turned to Blake. “Yang’s going to wait with the getaway, but I don’t think Saber and I will be much use on that front. Will me going in be a problem, since, you know, not a faunus.”

Blake shot him a wry smirk. “We’re not exactly going to be going in the front door. The base is full of hidden tunnels and secret passages. And I know where they all are.”

Nora raised an eyebrow. “You know all the secret passages… in a terrorist base?”

“Adam and I did a lot of exploring when we were little.”

Yang grinned mischievously. “I’m sure you did.”

“It was before… Uh. You can go back to being in a coma anytime now.”

“Ha!”

Ruby smiled. It was good to know Yang had recovered enough to be able to joke about her previous condition. And it was doubly good to know she and her partner were back to their old teasing routine. It wasn’t perfect, but it proved that some spirit of Team RWBY was still alive.

But the talk of Adam Taurus brought to mind his Servant. If Archer’s theory was correct, and a good chunk of the Servants summoned for this war were also from the Fourth War, then maybe Rider could identify him.

“Mordred, how would you describe Lancer?”

The blonde shrugged. “Annoying. But, he was knight through and through, talked about honor a whole lot. He had two spears, a long red one and a shorter one. I think it was gold? I blacked out at the end of the fight. Oh, and he said he had some unfinished business with father.”

“Hmm…” Rider hummed. “Did he have a mole under his right eye?”

Blake blushed. “Yes.”

“Ah. That sounds like the Lancer of the Fourth War.”

Mordred’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? Who is he?”

“No idea. I never learned his name.” Rider informed him. “Though I did observe his Noble Phantasm. Those two spears, the red one bypasses and destroys magic and the gold one inflicts wounds that can’t be healed. Saber was struck by that one early on.”

Mordred grinned. “And beat him anyway, right? Father wouldn’t let such a handicap stop him.”

“Not exactly.” Rider confessed. “While I don’t know how Lancer eventually died, he himself destroyed his spear to remove the curse from Saber. We were fighting a giant tentacle demon that was going to destroy the city and we needed Saber’s Noble Phantasm to beat it. He sacrificed his advantage to save the innocents of the city.”

“Oh,” Mordred remarked. She crossed her arms and scowled inward. “That’s… neat.”

Blake smiled. “Lancer is a good person. I think he will help us get Adam to see reason.”

Ozpin narrowed his eyes at Blake. “A mole under the right eye… Miss Belladonna, Miss Valkyrie, have you felt any different since your encounter with Lancer?”

Blake’s eyes went wide. “Wha… What do you mean?”

“Have you had any excessive thoughts of Lancer? Perhaps praising his character or his looks?”

Nora cocked an eyebrow. “Why would we do that? I mean, sure that Lancer guy was handsome and if I had to choose someone to kill me I guess he wouldn’t be so bad but come on. Ren is like, ten times more good looking.”

Everyone looked at Blake. She turned away.

“I don’t know why,” she admitted. “I’ve tried not, but I just can’t stop.”

“Blake?” Sun whimpered.

Ozpin frowned. “Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.”

“Ah.” Iskandar nodded. “Yes, that makes sense.”

Mordred tilted her head. “Which Irish lancer is that?”

“The one with the curse that makes women fall in love,” Archer explained.

“So, you?”

Ruby was sure there were some very interesting barbs being thrown around in the conversation, but she was stuck trying to figure out what the heck it meant to be Irish.

“A curse,” Blake muttered. Her face was set in a frown. “I knew it had to be artificial, but to think he cursed—”

“He has no control over it,” Ozpin informed her. “It is a curse meant for him, and in life, it led to his death. If he does become our ally, I can devise a charm to keep it from affecting anyone else. But the influence it already has over you, and potentially expand with time, that will take much longer to purge.”

“Wait, but if this thing is a curse, why hasn’t it affected me at all?” Nora questioned.

Ozpin smiled at her. “There is some truth to fairy tales. One in particular is true love’s use as a deterrent against curses.”

Nora’s face went stark white. She and Ren glanced at each other and then immediately looked away.

Ruby sighed. Good grief. And she’d thought Jaune and Pyrrha had had problems.

Yang cleared her throat. “So, aside from that, are we all set?”

Qrow nodded. “You guys head out to White Fang HQ while we stay back and hold the fort until you hopefully come back with allies.”

“Get some rest everyone,” Ozpin ordered. “We move out at dawn.”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFTE_ **

****

Mordred smiled as she overlooked her sleeping master. Despite the danger he was in, Jaune Arc couldn’t help but sleep as he always had. Which meant he was zipped up tight in a pastel blue onesie.

She quite didn’t understand why that fact was as funny as Nora seemed to believe it to be, but she couldn’t deny the smile that flashed across her face.

Confident the immediate room was secure, she closed her eyes and threw out the rest of her supernaturally enhanced senses. Archer and Rider kept watch at the motel’s perimeter, the both of them better suited for facing enemies at range or quickly running them down. If anyone managed to get past them, it would be up to her to annihilate them in close quarters.

“Amber, sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Why did mom leave?”

Mordred blinked in confusion. She should not have overheard that. She should just leave it alone. There was nothing she could do to help.

Still, she somehow found herself dissipating into spirit form and floating right outside Amber’s room. She peeked through the door cracks and spied Nicholas Arc tucking his youngest into bed.

The huntsman smiled. “Your mother didn’t want to leave, sweetie. She just had to. She had to keep your brother safe and make sure he could come back to us.”

“I know that,” Amber grumbled miserably. “But why didn’t she come back with him?”

Nicholas sighed. “Sometimes… sometimes things come up, things that can’t be avoided. Things that force people to stay away.”

“But nothing can force mom to do anything she didn’t want to!” Amber protested. “Mom was—is invincible!”

A soft smile graced Nicholas’ face. “I wish that were so. But the truth is Amber, no one is invincible. Eventually, no matter how much someone wants to stay, there is going to come a time when they have to go away and never come back. It’s a part of life.”

“It’s a stupid part of life.” Amber disgruntledly declared.

“No arguments there, sweetie.” Nicholas kissed his little girl on the forehead. “But, I want you to know, your sisters, your brothers, they’re not going to be leaving forever for a long time.”

“What about you, daddy?”

Nicholas’ smile faltered for a moment. He gazed lovingly on his youngest. “I’m still here. Get some sleep, Amber.”

“Okay.” Amber closed her eyes and shifted onto her side. “I love you, daddy.”

“Daddy loves you too, sweetie.”

Nicholas flicked off the light and walked out of the room. As soon as he shut the door, he let out a massive sigh, his shoulders sagging with weight. He trudged through the motel to the courtyard, leaning on the wall the entire way. Against her better judgment, Mordred followed him.

The shattered moon shined beams of broken light down on the tranquil grass of the courtyard. The Arc patriarch sunk down to the ground and stared blankly at the glistening foliage.

“You know, I thought I had died when I first saw her,” Nicholas remarked. “Last thing I’d seen before I blacked out was a swarm of Deathstalkers moving in for the kill. Then I woke up and saw the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen wearing the most stunning armor I could have ever imagined. I thought she was an angel, come down to take me to heaven. Ha! Ironic, I suppose. Her dying before me.”

Silence reigned throughout the courtyard, not even a cricket daring to chirp.

Nicholas sighed. “Please come out, Mordred. I don’t want to talk to air.”

Mordred’s nonexistent eyes widened. She materialized a few feet behind him. “How did you know I was there?”

“I didn’t.” the huntsman admitted. “I just hoped you were here. Days like this… I’m not good at being alone.”

Mordred nodded. Made sense. He was lucky she’d been there. She’d known many who took the death of their loved ones poorly. She still remembered Gawain’s howls of rage after Lancelot slew his kin to save the Queen.

“Thank you, by the way. For getting Jaune back to us,” he told her. “If he hadn’t gotten out of Beacon…”

“You wouldn’t have done it,” Mordred stated boldly, knowing exactly what dark place his thoughts strayed to. “I haven’t known you long, but I don’t believe you capable of abandoning the rest of your family like that. You wouldn’t let your pain take you from your children.”

Nicholas smirked. “She regretted it, you know?”

“What?”

“How things went down with you, back in your time.” he elaborated. “Arturia had a lot of things she wished she had done better with, but not knowing how to help you was one of the big ones.”

Mordred frowned. “He had nothing to regret. Father was everything he needed to be. The perfect king.”

Every moment of every hour of every day, even in the heart of her rebellion, Mordred never believed for a moment that there could be a better king than King Arthur. She had been determined to surpass him, but she’d had no doubt of the colossal road ahead of her. He was perfect after all, always just, always right, never allowing his emotions to cloud his dedication to the law. Always with a stoic frown on his face.

She’d loved that frown once, adored its inhuman grace. She’d been a homunculus, isolated from humans by her own nature, balefully watching other children play in the street while she slinked through alleys. She didn’t grow up like the Arc siblings, though she’d longed so desperately for what they had, to have a parent tuck her in at night. To smile down and tell her everything would be okay. But her mother had not cared enough to gift her that comfort and with her mystical nature, her childhood was over in a smattering of years.

And the children she’d watched playing in the streets? They were still children, still bright and innocent and happy and oh so very _human_.

And she wasn’t.

But neither was he. He couldn’t have been human. He was the king. He was perfect.

And if he was perfect, couldn’t she be perfect too?

Couldn’t they be perfect together?

When she’d learned he was her father, everything had made sense. She was inhuman because he was inhuman. She was made in his image. For the first time she could remember, she wasn’t alone.

She’d smiled.

But he hadn’t.

She couldn’t make him smile. All her power, all her magnificent talent and endless devotion, and she couldn’t make him smile.

But they could. She’d seen the pictures. The Arcs had helped him to smile. They’d done what she couldn’t. They’d gotten the king to smile.

“How?” she muttered desperately. Nicholas whirled towards her. “How’d you get the king to smile?”

Mr. Arc smiled sadly, a look of reminiscing on his face. “She wasn’t a king anymore. She didn’t want to be, and I didn’t want to force her to. When we met, we both needed a partner. We stuck together and just… lived I guess. When your siblings came along… that’s when the smiles really started.”

“He wasn’t… he wasn’t a king anymore?” A wide grin she didn’t entirely understand broke out across Mordred’s face. “Ha! I knew that was the way! I knew he’d be happy if he wasn’t king any—”

Mordred’s heart stopped. Something, some unknown force, clicked in her mind.

She saw herself stepping before the Sword of Selection, the legendary stone standing as an immovable island in a sea of golden wheat. She saw the wizard, the real wizard, with unseemly hair as pure white as his hooded cloak.

And she saw father. She saw him, young and hopeful, grip the blade. She heard the wizard’s warning, that to be king was to sacrifice one’s happiness for the good of all others. She heard father acknowledge his words and draw the sword nonetheless. She saw his smile die.

And she longed so badly to see it revived.

“I remember,” she whispered reverently. “I remember why I rebelled. I remember my wish. I didn’t want the throne for power. I just wanted father to smile.”

A tear dribbled down her eye. “I’m not a monster.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “What? Where’d you get a silly idea like that?”

Mordred chuckled and wiped the moisture from her face. “I was thinking too much. I really need to stop that. I mean, last time I did, I decided that starting a civil war was the best way to get father to take it easy.”

That’s what it was. Her rebellion, her desire for the throne, none of it was out of a thirst for power, or even a misguided desperation to supplant her father. It had all been for him, to try to give him back even a fraction of the happiness he’d sought to bring to others. She’d wanted him to accept her with a smile on his face, but if he couldn’t recognize a witch’s creation, at least she could ensure he knew joy.

But how could he when she didn’t see herself as anything else? Even with her good intentions, she’d fled into the mask of Morgana’s pawn to do what she’d thought needed to be done. She’d dedicated herself to being a pale imitation in hopes that the original could know peace through her.

But no matter how much she may have wished it, she was not King Arthur. She would never be King Arthur.

But she would be Mordred. And there was nobody better at that.

She unbuckled Avalon and Excalibur from her side. She held it out to her stepfather.

Nicholas’ eyes widened. “I can’t take that.”

“Sure, you can,” Mordred teased. “Besides, it doesn’t work for me.”

“It doesn’t for me either.” he protested. “This is all you have left of her. I can’t take it from you.”

Mordred shrugged. “I’ve got a sword. You don’t, at least not one worth having. Besides, I think I could use some time away from it. I’m my own person, I can’t compare myself to him.”

Nicholas hesitated another moment, but in the end, he gripped the holy sheath. “Thank you.”

Mordred nodded. The two kept still in companionable silence. They watched the solemn grass of the courtyard drip dew in the night air.

“Mordred, you know, you’re always welcome with us.” Nicholas declared. “You’re part of this family too.”

The Knight of Treachery smiled. “Thank you, Nick. I’m grateful, more than you know. But it’s best not to get your hopes up. No matter how this war goes, I’m not going to be here for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t father tell you?” Mordred chuckled. “We Heroic Spirits, we aren’t made to last after the war. No matter how great our legend, in the end, we’re all dead. We’ve lived our lives, however bright, however brief. We’re here to help the living shape the present, not take it into our own hands.”

“Couldn’t you stay to help your sisters shape their futures then?” Nicholas asked. “I understand changing the past to save Arturia is out of the question, but maybe… maybe the girls would be able to move on if you were there to help them. They already love you, and I know you care about them. Arturia told me about the King of Conquerors’ wish from the Fourth War. The Grail can incarnate you.”

“Well, yes, but I… I…”

Mordred found her tongue-tied. He knew her mistakes, every one of them. He’d heard her renounce her connection to the King of Knights. And yet, he was still inviting her to live with him, to be a part of his family. With the girls, with Jaune.

He wanted her to be around. For her.

Could she do that? Could she… steal father’s family like that?

But, weren’t they her family as well?

Nicholas stood up and patted her on the shoulder. “I didn’t mean to shock you like that. If there’s something else you need to do with the Grail, I wish you the best in getting it. But, just so you know, the door is always open. Good night, Mordred.”

“Good night, Nick,” Mordred muttered absently.

Nicholas nodded and strode down the hall to his room, Excalibur and Avalon at his side.

Mordred just stood there, her mind whirling with thought.

And… hope?

This wish… it could be her chance to have the life she’d always wanted, to never be alone again. It wasn’t like she could wish for the Sword of Selection, she knew from Excalibur that she wouldn’t be able to succeed. Besides, she’d seen that father had found happiness already. In this world. With this family. As an Arc.

Could she do the same as Mordred?

She conjured Clarent into her hand, crimson sparks jetting off of the gray steel blade. Her sword. Her weapon that she’d stolen from the vaults of Camelot, a symbol of the rightful king. The holy instrument turned demonic by her treachery and hatred for her father. In that way, she had made it truly hers, forged and shaped exactly to her spirit.

Perhaps, with a little more time, a little more peace, it could turn into something she could truly be proud of.

Remnant seemed as good a place as any for Mordred Pendragon to live a second life.


	53. The Final Alters

_How long had he been walking?_

_He knew he’d traversed the planet’s circumference multiple times, but he’d stopped counting after the first hundred. No point in keeping track of such insignificant measurements when time was never-ending, each moment bleeding into the next, an eternal advancement towards the next horizon. He didn’t need to eat, sleep, or even breathe, and it wasn’t as if any terrain could stand in his way, so he just kept moving forward, destined to stride ever onwards without end. Sometimes he wondered if he should go to one of them, the wizard or the witch, and beg one of them to try to put him out of his misery._

_But he couldn’t. If he went to either of them, they wouldn’t do it. They’d just talk, try to get him on their side, as the Queen had been doing for as long as he could remember, her insidious words burrowing through the firmament of his consciousness like corrupted, mutated worms. Were he anyone else, he had no doubt he would have either folded to her overtures or found some manner to end himself long ago. But he had something to forestall her advances with, a single command buried deeper in his subconscious that kept him moving onward, with no ambition but to continue. No matter the tedium, he would live. He had been ordered to live. By who, he could not recall, but the order had to be carried out._

_So onward he went, across the highest peaks and through the deepest sea floors. He witnessed all the remnant of the old world had to offer, every picture of crumbling ruin and every image of defiant resistance. Even when he found the concepts themselves dull after the first few centuries, he normally beheld enough slight differences in each struggle to allow a smile to pretend to grace his face._

_It was more difficult when he saw them, the other Creatures of Grimm. The Queen’s minions knew better than to come near him, they knew what fate would befall them if they aggravated him. But just their presence amplified the strength of her whispers, turning them from fervent mutterings to incessant howls that rendered his very soul._

_One might think he’d hate them for that, that he’d hunt them to extinction for some peace of mind. But there was no point. He could not destroy the Queen, so her Reality Marble would forever remain, and with it the Grimm. There was no point in hunting them. If he saw others in danger from them, sometimes he’d intervene, but there was no way for him to protect them all. Because… well, he couldn’t remember exactly why, but he did get the sense that he could have saved them, but he had chosen something else instead. Something involving a cold woman in a field of snow._

_So, he just kept going. He had to keep going. He was the last._

_“Hey!”_

_Huh. Strange. The Queen’s whispers were rarely so informal._

_“Hey! Hey! Big guy! Big guy! Slow down!”_

_…That wasn’t the Queen._

_That was… a person?_

_He turned around towards the squeaky voice. Rushing through the forest, heading right for him, was a child. A small, slight girl with a mess of dirty chestnut hair on top of her head._

_She finally arrived next to him, doubled over panting. “You know, for a guy who only walks… you sure do move fast. Must be those long legs of yours.”_

_Were his legs long now? He knew the Queen had changed him long ago, but he seemed to remember being quite small once. Perhaps they’d expanded when he’d ascended._

_That was irrelevant. He hadn’t spoken to a human being in an eternity. He needed to handle this matter with delicacy._

_“Can I help you?”_

_Brilliant. A perfectly functional response._

_The girl smirked. “Actually, you can. You and me, I think we would make a great team.”_

_…_

_…_

_What?_

_“I saw you go through those Grimm a few days ago,” the girl informed him. “You didn’t even slow down, you just walked through town and they got flattened. Boom! It was awesome! But they’re scared of you, hiding away so you can’t find them. Which is pretty amazing, by the way, I didn’t think Grimm were scared of anything—”_

_“What are you talking about?” he interrupted. He could vaguely recall the town she was referencing. From what he could tell it had been a rundown heap for stragglers even before the Grimm had struck. He hadn’t paid much mind to it, but he had no desire to watch the starving residents be slaughtered. So, he’d activated his semblance and crushed the creatures as he went through._

_The girl smiled. “Me! I can be your eyes and ears, going around and tracking down Grimm so they don’t run before you can get to them. That’ll make hunting them so much easier, don’t you think?”_

_“I don’t hunt the Grimm.”_

_The girl’s face fell. “You don’t?”_

_“No.”_

_“Oh.” The girl’s smile quickly returned. “Well, that’s even better! No point in getting in danger if you don’t have to. Glad you understand that, big guy. Something tells me we’re going to be the best of friends. You and me, against the world!”_

_Against the world?_

_“Who are you?”_

_The girl sighed. Her cheery façade disappeared, replaced with an exhausted and deadpan expression. “Alright, fine, you got me. You’re one perceptive dude, big guy.”_

_He was? What in the world was going on?_

_“The truth is… the world’s a rough place, alright,” the girl explained. “And when you’re on your own, it’s not exactly easy to survive in it. Well, maybe it is for you, but you’re like seven tall. It’s harder for people like me.”_

_He raised an eyebrow. “You are a child. Where are your parents?”_

_Children should not have to face the world without support. He remembered that much._

_The girl scowled and glanced to the side. “My mom died a long time ago. Dad married some other shank and she convinced him we didn’t have enough food for everyone. Next day, we took a trip to the forest and they tried to leave me behind.”_

_“Tried?”_

_“Grimm. I wasn’t exactly happy about being abandoned.”_

_He nodded. That kind of negativity would attract them. The girl needed help, support. But he was not the right being for the job._

_“You may travel with me until we reach the next town,” he declared. “But I am not someone you want to be around. I am not fit to be a father.”_

_The girl flinched. “Not like I want another.” Her head shot up. “Hey! Maybe you can be my big brother instead? That’d be awesome, right?”_

_He sighed. “Very well.” He turned and walked onward. He knew she would follow._

_“Great! It’s nice to meet you, big bro!” she cheered, rushing up to even their pace. “I’m Gretchen! Gretchen Rainart! What’s your name?”_

_“My name?” He stopped cold. His eyes tried to focus as his mind churned for an answer, coming up with nothing. He had some titles, but those would not due. They were not a name. A title was what you were. A name was who you are, who you choose to be. And he… he hadn’t been someone in so long._

_“I don’t remember my name.”_

_Gretchen’s screwed up in confusion. “What? That’s ridiculous. How can you not remember your own name?”_

_“It hasn’t been spoken in an eon,” he told her. “Besides, I’m not sure if it has any more meaning for me.”_

_Gretchen smirked. “Alright then, we’ll just have to give you a name that does, won’t we? I’m getting a ‘Keith’ vibe from you. No, that’s a dad name. You’re not my dad. Um… Verdant, like the forest, how about that?”_

_“I do not care.”_

_“Well then that one’s out. You’ve got to care about your name. It’s **your** name. It’s who you are. And in the end, that’s all you got in the world.”_

_A smile ghosted across his face. The little girl had no idea how right she was. And yet, somehow, he’d managed to lose even that._

_Getting a new one from her… might not be so bad._

_“Hmm…” Gretchen scratched her chin. Her eyes narrowed as she examined his face. “How about… no, that’s dumb. Maybe… no, no that’s too sappy. You know what, how about Hazel? You’ve got hazel eyes, so you won’t forget this one.”_

_“Hazel…”_

_He tried the name out on his tongue. There was a softness to it, like find pine wood. It was… not bad._

_And if this girl, Gretchen wanted to give him a name for taking her to the next town, then why accept it._

_Time blurred together for him, but at least for a bit, Hazel Rainart he would be._

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“Oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m gonna…”

_“You’re not going to hurl, master. You were fine on the ride to Mistral.”_

“My stomach disagrees, Saber.”

_“Which is why I’m in spirit form.”_

Jaune scowled. Trust the Knight of Treachery to hang him out to dry.

Rider’s chariot was surprisingly spacious, despite, you know, being a chariot, it was large enough that the entire strike team could fit without too much difficulty. It had taken multiple trips to ferry the entire group from Kuroyuri to Mistral, but with the ones staying behind, the ride to the White Fang HQ was far easier. Not that his stomach seemed to realize that. Despite its managing of the earlier venture, the current situation was almost as bad as the bullhead to Beacon.

Though given the literal lightning they were engulfed, perhaps he should have been giving his stomach a little more slack.

Rider let out another howl of rumbustious laughter as they blazed through the sky, the huntresses and huntsmen on the vehicle holding tight to the frame. Well, all but one.

“Woohoo!” Yang cheered. “Sure beats a bullhead, eh Blake?”

Her partner shot her a nervous smile, her nails digging into the chariot’s wood. “It’s certainly faster.”

Yang grinned. “That it is. What do you think of the good old Gordius Wheel, Sun?”

Sun didn’t respond, instead pensively cleaning Ryu Bang and Jingu Bang’s barrels with a gun cloth. He only picked his head up when Blake gave him a gentle nudge.

“Huh, did you guys say something?” he asked.

Yang frowned with worry. “Are you okay, dude?”

Jaune could understand Yang’s concern. Aside from the Nora and blond brawler herself, Sun was usually the most energetic member of their little gang. He was the life of the party, always excited and ready for action, just thrilled to be included in the action. For him to be so subdued, even before a fight… it was strange.

The monkey faunus flashed the two of them a wide grin. “Yeah, I’m great! Just… you know… nah, it’s not important.”

Blake gripped Sun on the shoulder. “If something is bothering you, then it is important.”

“Keeping our issues bottled up hasn’t helped any of us.” Jaune reminded him. “Tell us and maybe we can help.”

“We’re your friends, monkey boy,” Yang told him. She gave him a thumbs up. “We’re not letting you get all angsty on us. There’s enough of that going around.”

Sun chuckled. “It’s nothing. Well, okay, it’s Lionheart and everything, but it really isn’t important right now. We talk about it later. Right now, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Blake frowned. “Sun…”

“He’s not wrong,” Iskandar noted. “We’re here.”

The Gordius Wheel dived down from the sky and dipped under a thick jungle canopy. The chariot zipped through the thick emerald foliage like a wrecking ball. If Blake hadn’t confirmed it as the only loophole in the base's defenses, Jaune would have thought they’d have been spotted for sure.

Soon enough, the group arrived at a massive mountain range, the cliffs covered in endless jungle.

They came down behind a cluster of boulders a bit away from the peaks. When they stopped, Blake gave Sun a short, but tight hug and hopped off the chariot. She made her way over to covering of thick reeds and bamboo. When the cat faunus pushed the screen away, she revealed a wide hole.

“This leads to a tunnel network that can get us in,” Blake informed them. “It’s too tight for the Gordius Wheel, so Rider should probably stay here if he’s going to be the getaway driver.”

Yang nodded. “Makes sense. Besides, I can’t get close if I don’t want to be hit by Lancer’s lovey-dovey curse. Unlike Nora, I’m pretty sure I don’t have ‘true love’ with anybody.”

“What about Ruby?” Jaune asked.

“I don’t think the curse counts sibling love,” Yang replied. “If it did, then it would be a lot easier to get around.”

“True enough.” Jaune conceded. “Alright then, if things go south, Saber and I will handle Lancer.”

He noticed Blake’s hand tighten at his remark. She shook her head a moment later, but he could tell whatever magic was affecting her had its claws in deep. Hopeful Ozpin would be able to cleanse her faster than he thought he could, since he didn’t think the group could wait the two weeks he said he’d need. Though at least he could take solace that Nora wasn’t affected by the love curse. He was pretty sure she’d do a lot more than close a fist if he mentioned ‘handling’ Ren.

“Hey, Jaune.” he turned to Yang. She looked at him with guilty eyes. “About the wish, don’t blame Ruby for the plan. I was the one who pushed her into it.”

Jaune smiled at her. “I don’t blame Ruby. And I don’t blame you either. You want to save your dad. That is not something to feel guilty about. We all do the best we can.”

Yang blinked in shock. A moment later, a grin blossomed across her face. “Thanks. And if it means anything, I wish there was a way to save your mom and Pyrrha.”

Jaune sighed. “So do I. But… the dead are dead. They stay with us, we learn from them, grow stronger defending what they fought for. But they’re gone. There’s no way to bring them back without defiling what they fought for.”

Yang squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “They’d be proud of you.”

“They’d at least be slightly less disappointed.” Jaune joked. He and Yang fist bumped. “Just so you know, I’m not backing down. I’m going to support Mordred getting her wish.”

“You’re supporting your family. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Yang smirked. “Besides, I don’t think the big guy would ever forgive me if he didn’t get a fight with your big bro.”

“Indeed!” Iskandar shouted. He slapped Jaune on the back, unintentionally driving the air from his lungs. “If I cannot have the Knight of Treachery in my army, I shall not be satisfied until we face each other in glorious combat! And you, second son of the King of Knights, when this war is over and I begin my campaign across this brilliant new world, I sincerely hope you will join my ranks! You would be welcomed in the Hetairoi.”

Jaune couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Wow. From sneaking into Beacon to being invited into the army of a legendary hero.”

“The difference two years can make.” Yang joked.

“So…” Iskandar grinned. “Will you join me?”

Jaune scratched the back of his head. “Well—”

_“You’re not joining him.”_

_‘What? Mordred, what are you—’_

_“A knight does not join some buffoon’s gang.”_

_‘Buffoon?’_

_“You are not joining and that’s final!”_

Jaune rubbed his forehead at the screech. “Sorry, Rider. Saber is against the idea.”

“Ah, unfortunate.” Iskandar sighed. “Still, I hope you reconsider after the war.”

“Guys.” Blake hissed. She gestured to the tunnel. “Are we doing this or what?”

“Sorry,” Jaune replied. This was no time to dilly dally. Every moment they delayed was a moment Salem’s forces got closer. If they were able to engage the White Fang in negotiations, it was unlikely to be a swift process, given neither of them really trusted each other. They need to move fast if there was going to be any time to evacuate. “Let’s go.”

They had their work cut out for them. Based on Blake’s descriptions, Adam Taurus didn’t seem like the most diplomatic of fellows.

 

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“I spy with my little eye something… red.”

_“The wall, master.”_

Adam sighed as he laid down across a crimson quilted bed. “How do you always know?”

_“I follow your eyes to see where you’re looking when you speak, my lord.”_

“Of course you do.”

He understood Sienna wasn’t particularly happy with him taking so much time to get to the base, but did she have to push him off to a waiting room? For days? He’d hoped the months since they last spoke would have given her time to cool off from the attack on Beacon. He should have known better. Time did not sate the tiger’s fury.

When he’d arrived, he had been sequestered in guest quarters with guards at his door. The room was nice enough to allow the illusion of hospitality, but with Ilia separated from him, it was clear the area was meant as a cell to keep him from running off before Sienna finally got her explanation. Just as making him wait was a show of dominance, meant to demonstrate to both him and the rest of the White Fang who was really in command.

Adam wondered if Sienna realized just how futile her measures were. Putting aside the fact that Lancer accompanied him in spirit form even now, and could probably slaughter the entire base if he gave the word, the moment he’d entered the room his guards had declared that they would gladly escort him anywhere he needed to go. Like the barracks.

Once again, the invitation was clear. The troops were with him. If he gave the word, he would be High Leader.

He wasn’t going to deny that it was tempting. If he commanded the entirety of the White Fang, not just his Vale regiment, then he could make use of the organization’s vast information network to seek out the other masters of the war, maybe even track down the Branwen Tribe’s new hiding place. He’d sure like to pay Raven a visit and finish what they’d started in Oniyuri.

But in some ways, it was the thought of his old mentor that stayed his hand. She’d taught him a great deal, how to be strong, how that strength was the only way to survive in an unforgiving world. Her beatings and her instruction had been more than he could have asked for before he met her. But even then, he noted something peculiar. For all her talk of strength, of power, and even her possession of such via Lancelot, Raven rarely did anything with it. Sure, she led raids, had Vernal deliver her commands, but at the end of the day, the Branwen Tribe were just bandits, ravaging the countryside… for what? Survival? Why should the strong merely survive? Why should they not change the world for the betterment of those who could not?

Sienna had helped him understand that when he’d returned. Strength was a tool, to be used for the protection of those too battered and oppressed to claim it for themselves. He’d done more good in his first month of raids on SDC operations than Raven had probably done in her entire career as a bandit. Because you couldn’t leave the fight just because you decided it wasn’t for you, you couldn’t leave your allies behind as she’d done at their last encounter. There were causes bigger than one’s self, bigger than mere survival.

Diarmuid had helped him settle that last point. He had no illusions about his less than stellar initial treatment on his Servant. He’d berated him, insulted him, belittled him at every turn without even the scantest sign of kindness. All because he was a human, which while certainly not a point in his favor, was not something he could control. Indeed, the knight was a credit to his race, just as a hero should be. He swore to serve Adam, to see that his dream was fulfilled by the Grail, and no matter how much he’d had to suffer for that devotion, he had never wavered in his commitment. It was admirable.

That was what it meant to truly to serve a cause, either something as personal as a lord, or as grand as the dream of faunus equality. In the end, the individual didn’t matter as long as the vision flourished.

And so, no matter how alluring it might have been, he could not usurp Sienna.

While he was certainly a competent leader, and far more popular and charismatic among the grunts of the White Fang, there were no illusions in his mind that his mentor was the superior administrator. She had managed an organization spanning the entirety of Remnant for years, most of which was spent near the top of the kingdoms’ most wanted list, and had allowed it to not only survive, but flourish. Even now, the greatest threat to her regime was not outside law enforcement, but the fact that the army she had grown was becoming impatient with her wise, meticulous strategy.

Besides, if he did become High Leader, that came with its own set of risks, and not just for him. If he was killed in the Grail War, and with opponents like Kirei and Raven that was a distinct possibility, then the White Fang would be left aimless upon his demise, like a King Taijitu that had lost both its heads. The greatest force for faunus liberation on the planet would be crippled. As he was now, a cell commander, his death would still be a heavy blow, but manageable. His dream would live on if he fell, or at least the seeking of it.

For now though, he could only wait, playing ‘I Spy’ with his invisible Servant.

He had a feeling such a statement sounded even more ridiculous than he thought it did.

Still, it was more comforting than he thought it would be to do it. The last person he’d played such the simple, childish game with had been Blake, back in the early days of Sienna’s reign. It’d been… nice to let his guard down and just be the kids they actually were instead of the revolutionaries they dreamed of being. The world, and the cruel humans in it, had forced him to grow up faster than he should have, taking lives before he was even old enough to attend most kingdoms’ combat schools.

How ironic then that one of the supposed pinnacles of those same humans would prove to be one of the first people to bring his guard down after his beloved abandoned him. Diarmuid hadn’t done anything special, no grand displays of loyalty, nor provided him with a magnificent victory. But he had been good, and kind, and loyal, even when Adam hadn’t been the same to him. He was a knight, someone that Adam trusted would truly see his dream through to the end.

With his help, it really did look like he could get everything he wanted.

“Okay, how about you take a turn,” Adam suggested. “I can’t exactly track your eyes as you are—”

The double doors to the room cracked open. Ilia marched in, a troop of lance-wielding grunts behind her.

“She’s called for us,” Ilia informed him. “We’re allowed to keep our weapons as a sign of trust, but no funny stuff.”

Adam shrugged. “Not like we were going to try anything.”

Ilia nodded. Her eyes shifted around the room, darting back and forth between him and the masked guards. “Is… is he…”

“The Knight of Fianna is with us.” Adam smiled. “He sends his regards and his apologies, as usual.”

He could already hear Lancer professing his sincerest apologies for his curse even as Ilia blushed.

Adam rose to his feet. He reached to his bedside table for his mask, but his hand paused just before he could grab the plaster construct. He’d gotten the idea of the Grimm masks from Raven, who’d constantly worn one when she was on raids or even when she just wanted to appear intimidating. He’d never found out the exact reason, but when he’d introduced the practice to the Fang, it had been seeped in the idea of monstrousness. If humanity feared the Creatures of Grimm, and through that fear, respected them, then the faunus would take on their faces and take their respect that way.

But acting as a monster… what it had led him to considering…

Perhaps… perhaps it was best to leave the mask behind and see how well Adam Taurus did as a man.

…

…

…

But hadn’t he only gotten this far by being a monster?

…

Could a monster get everything he wanted?

…

What could it hurt? He’d only be leaving it off for a meeting.

He retracted his arm back to himself and nodded to his guards, his golden eyes determined and unobscured. “Let’s go.”

The troops filed in around Adam and Ilia, and Lancer unknowingly, and escorted them to the High Leader’s throne room.

As they went, however, Adam caught a whisper between the two at the rear of the column.

“Who the heck is the Knight of Fianna? Some secret special ops guy?”

“Maybe? Heck, maybe that human that showed up a few days ago actually does know them.”

Adam frowned. What human had arrived at headquarters? How hadn’t they been killed or driven off? And why did they claim to know him?

His grip tightened on his sword. The only human he could think of was Kirei. He hadn’t seen the priest since the Fall of Beacon, but why would he come here? It wasn’t like Gilgamesh needed the White Fang’s help.

Unless it was someone else. But if so, who?

 

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Sun breathed tightly as the group neared where Blake said Sienna Khan would be. The secrets caverns had been slow going, but they’d managed to make it through the base without being seen. Well, being seen by anyone Mordred hadn’t been able to jet over to and knock out with a swift strike to the back of the head. Blake had been a bit concerned by that, it would be harder to convince the White Fang to ally with them if they’d just killed their men, but Mordred had assured them that she had measured her strength.

It was incredibly impressive. For all he and Mordred had traded barbs over her calling him ‘monkey’, he couldn’t deny the knight was an incredible warrior. And even as abrasive as she was, the Servant had a mission, a goal she would put everything towards. Though she was willing to take the time to help people like with Ren and the Nuckelavee (which was honestly when Sun really started to respect her), she still making her way towards the destiny she’d decided on.

For a long time, Sun hadn’t had that. He’d grown up on the streets of Vacuo, a street rat among street rats. It was said that Vacuo didn’t have a lot of racism, if you were tough enough to survive in the desert then you’d earned your place after all. And while that wasn’t necessarily untrue, when you were at the bottom of the barrel, you looked for any way to get a leg up on someone else, which had led to him being ostracized by the human orphans, with Faunus ones too busy trying to scrap by food to help him. He’d pickpocketed; street brawled, and generally did all he could to survive, until one day he’d tried to rob one particular man.

Headmaster Lionheart.

Some upcoming meeting had distracted the professor with the headmistress of Shade, so Sun had actually succeeded in getting the man’s wallet. He just didn’t get very far before the huntsman tried him down and took it back. But Lionheart had apparently been impressed by his efforts and sympathized with his plight. He’d brought him along to Shade and pulled some strings to get him into a combat school. Said he was a good kid, that he had the chance to do some good in the world. To be a huntsman and save people.

At the time, he’d just seen it as a way to get three square meals a day. What did he care about saving people when he could finally go to sleep with a full belly.

Except, since his stomach was full, he stopped desperately searching out for scraps. And he saw those that looked for them. The thin, wiry street kids that had previously shoved him aside to get as big a cut of the garbage as they could. Now that he could see straight, he saw that they were fighting to scrape by just as he had been. After that, food had started ‘disappearing’ from the school’s storehouse.

When the time came to decide which huntsman academy he would apply to, he hadn’t even hesitated to pick Haven. Not only would it have the bonus of getting him out of Vacuo, it would allow him to study under the man who’d inspired him in the first place, who’d shown him that he could be more and given him the chance to see it for himself. Lionheart had shown him what it meant to be a huntsman.

And Lionheart was a traitor. His idol had sold out all of Remnant.

Where the hell did that leave him?

He glanced over at Blake. The cat huntress was efficiently leading Jaune through the black tunnels, the other blonde’s human eyes not as useful in the dark as his Faunus friends. She was always doing that. Even when she stumbled, even when she didn’t know what road to take, she knew where she was going. She knew the world she wanted to make, a better one. And she would stop at nothing to achieve that, for the good of all. That determination was one of the things that he loved most about her, that inspired him. A dark angel that lit his way through the night.

Sun smiled.

It didn’t matter that Lionheart hadn’t lived up to his expectations in the end. No matter what, he’d always have the image of the kindly old huntsman who gave a filthy street rat a chance. And it was that image that he would hold himself to. A huntsman’s duty was to protect and save whoever they could, whenever they could. He couldn’t fight titans or obliterate armies like the Servants could, but he could at least do what he could. Help who he could. He wouldn’t be able to choose when that was, or who that was, but he had to try.

He would do his duty. To his job, and his friends.

 

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_‘Are we finally there yet?’_ Mordred moaned.

They’d been sneaking through the tunnels for what felt like ages. She knew they needed to be stealthy, but it just wasn’t her style to be so furtive. A knight did not slink in the shadows like a common thief!

Plus, she had to keep her idiot master from agreeing to join Rider’s army like some hoodlum. That redheaded bastard had no right trying to use his Charisma Skill on a son of King Arthur.

Besides, it distracted her from asking him how he’d feel when she made her new wish. If he would be okay if she… stuck around after the war.

Why was she even worrying about that? Both he and the rest of the Arcs had already given her their invitations.

But what if they were meant more as gestures than actually wanting her…

Then screw them! She’d do what she wanted!

Besides, she had enough to be worried about in the present without working about the future. She still had to win the war, and though she had no doubt she was strong enough to do so, that didn’t mean it would be easy. She could already sense Lancer’s presence within the White Fang compound. Faint, clearly trying to remain hidden, but there. But while the Irishman would be an interesting opponent, he wasn’t what concerned the Knight of Treachery.

There was another power in the mountain. Dark, twisted, and mighty, seeping through the cracks of stone like a puissant mud. It was so marred in riving black _prana_ , Mordred couldn’t tell if it was emanated from a single source or multiple. But no matter if it was one or more, she knew what it was.

Alters. Maybe Cú Chulainn, maybe someone else, but there was no doubt that it a Servant corrupted by Salem’s grip.

Mordred’s grip twitched, her sword itching to fly to her hand. Jaune was her master, and she’d traveled with Blake and Sun enough to call them comrades. Whatever awaited them, she would protect them, even if it meant swallowing her pride and calling Rider for backup.

The group stopped before a stone grate, streaks of soft light dripping into the tunnel.

“We’re here.” Blake declared. “Sienna’s throne room is right through here.”

“Looks like it’s occupied,” Sun noted.

Mordred peered through the cracks and observed the throne room. The roof was extremely high up, at least three times the height of the Arcs’ motel. The brown stone of the mountain was supported by half a dozen metal pillars. A majestic crimson carpet was laid out across the floor, leading to a dais raised several inches off the ground. On it was a throne flanked by four guards in Grimm masks with long spears. In the chair sat a female tiger faunus draped in robes of red and black.

“I see you’ve finally arrived, Adam.” the woman growled. “Is your explanation ready to be seen, or have you spent the last few months tidying your affairs?”

Before the tiger faunus, on the carpet in front of her throne, knelt the bull and chameleon faunus from Oniyuri, Adam and Ilia, their heads bowed in submission. Mordred could sense Lancer standing beside them in spirit form.

“Why isn’t Adam wearing his mask?” Sun inquired.

“I don’t know,” Blake revealed. “Something’s off.”

“High Leader Khan,” Adam spoke reverently. “I apologize for my tardiness. As you know, the trek from Vale is not a simple one.”

“And yet, your men arrived weeks before you did.” the tiger Faunus, who Mordred guessed was the Sienna Khan that Blake had mentioned, mocked. “Did you dawdle out of fear, or insubordination? The White Fang employs violence when violence is _necessary_ , to show the humans that they cannot treat us as lesser beings and get away with it. But attacking the Huntsman Academies crosses a line.”

“I agree.” Adam declared. “Attacking Beacon only leaves all of us vulnerable to the Grimm, and as such was never part of my plan. However, the event did provide an opportunity--”

“Oh, so you _accidentally_ sacked the school.” Sienna interrupted dryly. “Should I have you punished for incompetence instead of stupidity then?  Or treason, since you seemed to have allied with a group of humans for this asinine scheme.”

“That is a gross over simplific—how do you know about the humans?” Adam inquired, his golden eyes wide with confusion.

Sienna’s scowl deepened. “Two of them arrived a few days ago, looking for you. I would have had them killed on sight just for knowing our location, but they mentioned they were allies of yours, not to mention they carried a very interesting bargaining chip.”

“What? Who?” Adam demanded hotly, panic in his voice.

Mordred sensed the dark power of the Alter near the chamber.

The double doors of the throne room slammed open. A huge, hulking man in a forest green jacket walked into the chamber.

“That would be me.” the man declared. “Hazel Rainart. I believe you worked with my associate, Cinder Fall, before her passing. Our mutual master wishes to continue the partnership she established.”

Adam rose to his feet and growled. “Partnership? Your _associate_ slaughtered half my men and held the rest of their lives over my head unless I worked with her!”

Hazel sighed. “My apologies. Diplomatic relations were never Cinder’s specialty. But I can assure you, I am not here to cause trouble.”

“You’ve already failed in that regard.” Sienna Khan snarled, her fury at Adam now turned fully on the newcomer. Her guards aimed their spears at the brute. “I told you to wait on your ship until I sent for you.”

“Again, my apologies mam,” Hazel replied calmly. “I simply overheard that Mr. Taurus here had returned and felt it best to see you both at once.”

“Get out.” Adam threatened. Ilia stood behind him as he drew his katana. “The longer you stay here, the less safe you will be.”

Hazel glanced over the terrorists present. His gaze lingered a bit next to Adam, almost as if he could see the currently non-material Lancer, but in the end, he just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take those chances.” he declared. He held up his hands placatingly. “You don’t like me. You have no reason to like me. But you don’t have to like me to get what you want. My mistress holds more power than anyone else on Remnant. And if the White Fang agree to work with us, we can promise it will be a mutually beneficial arrangement. As both a token of apology for Cinder’s mishandling of our first contact, and as a gift of goodwill, please accept this. Saber Alter.”

A man with white hair and a large mustache was thrown onto the floor of the chamber, his tattered suit and dress shirt ripped and torn until there was barely anything left. His hands were cuffed in front of him.

Adam and Ilia’s eyes widened. Sienna’s narrowed.

“Jacques Schnee.” the tiger faunus growled.

The white-haired man struggled to his feet. He whirled on the Faunus and snarled. “Sienna. I should have known you and your _animals_ would work with that devil.”

They probably spoke a bit more, but Mordred didn’t hear them. Why would she have, when the one who’d thrown the white-haired man entered the room?

“Is that… who I think it is?” Blake muttered in horror.

It was wrong. It was all wrong. Armor that should have been beautiful and silver was stained black and merciless. Eyes that should have shown the purest emerald were hidden by a harrowing mask of red and black. An aura that should have shined with nobility unsurpassed by even God himself, was instead primal, ferocious, and filled to the brim with pure, unrestrained menace, a cloud of dark _prana_ swirling about the warrior.

This… this… this could not be him. It could not be.

“No,” Jaune whispered, terrified. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Please, no.”

But it was. Despite the darkness, despite the black power seeping off the female knight in waves, Mordred could never mistake that figure. The brilliant blond hair, the stern noble chin, the effortless pose of grace that yet seemed to hide vast untapped reserves of will and wrath. It was unmistakable.

This was the King of Knights.

Lancer materialized next to his master as soon as Arturia entered the room, his spears ready for battle. A confused scowl crossed his face. He positioned himself between his master and the other Servant.

“What in the…” Sienna sputtered. “Adam! Explain this!”

“Lancer?” Adam exclaimed, ignoring his leader. “What are you doing?”

“Master, please get back.” the Knight of Fianna requested. “This woman… she is a Servant, but something is wrong.”

“Not wrong, Diarmuid.” Saber Alter replied flatly. “Merely altered to better serve my new master.” She tilted her chin at the spearman. “I must say, it is a welcome surprise to see you again, Knight of the Love Spot.”

Lancer feverishly scanned the black warrior before him, his grip on his spears tightening. “King of Knights? Is that really you?”

“It is.” the Alter Servant nodded. “I apologize for how our last encounter ended. I swear to you, I had no knowledge of what my master was planning.”

“That is… comforting.” Lancer gulped.

Mordred remembered the grievances Diarmuid had spoken of back at Oniyuri. She doubted they would have been soothed by a simple apology, but when the King of Knights appeared before one blackened, such concerns tended to fall to the wayside.

Adam looked to Hazel. “What do you want?”

The hulking man glanced at Diarmuid, his eyes narrowing in faint recognition before a shake of his head sent his gaze back to the bull faunus.

“My apologies. It seems matters have changed.” Hazel informed them. “My Queen is more than willing to ally with the White Fang in order to work towards our mutual goals, but the Holy Grail War is another matter. All Servants are to be slain on sight.”

Adam raised his sword. “Of course. How sensible.”

“There is no need for you to die.” Hazel cautioned. “Simply relinquish your Servant to us, and both he and we will be gone from this place without violence.”

“So, you can kill him?” Ilia shouted.

“If the Queen wishes, yes,” Hazel admitted. “But more than likely, she will instead put him through the blackening like Saber Alter here.”

“Do not worry, Lancer. If you do not wish to become as I am, you will not be forced to suffer the same disgraceful fate as before.” Saber Alter comforted, though with a cold, matter of fact tone. “We will have our duel. I promise.”

Lancer’s eyes widened. He looked upon Arturia with aghast horror. He glanced back to his master, terror running through his eyes.

Adam met his gaze. The bull faunus gave him a cocky smirk.

He turned back to the interlopers. “How about this? Lancer duels you now, we kill you, and get one step closer to the Grail and the salvation of all faunus. And your Queen gets nothing.”

Lancer smiled gratefully at his master. He raised his spear to Saber Alter. “You heard my master. Shall we finish what we started, King of Knights?”

The swordswoman smirked. A burst of black _prana_ erupted in her hand. A familiar majestic sword emerged from the storm, but instead of wonderous gold, blue, and silver, it shone an impossible black and crimson, the once holiest of swords now baying for blood like a rabid hound.

Saber Alter raised her black Excalibur. “Come, Knight of Fianna.”

“Are you sure you wish to do this?” Hazel asked once more. “If you fight, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“Worry for your own safety, human.” Sienna Khan snarled. She rose to her feet, claws out and ready. “You stand in our sanctuary. Soon, it will be your tomb.”

Hazel sighed. “No. No, it will not. King of Knights, destroy them.”

That was too much. She could be patient no longer.

She materialized immediately, sword in hand.

“Saber, wait!” Sun shouted.

A surge of power obliterated the wall in front of them, sending a cloud of dust in front of the group.

Mordred burst through the fog decked in full armor and wreathed in crimson lightning. All the eyes in the throne room turned to her, but she only cared for one figure.

“Mordred?!?” Saber Alter exclaimed.

The Knight of Treachery roared. She blasted forward on the peak of a Prana Burst and raised her sword.

This was her father. This couldn’t be her father. This was a perversion. This was a dark forgery, crafted by Salem’s black machinations.

This pale imitation was an insult to the King of Knights and she would not let it stand!

Clarent’s blade of tempestuous crimson struck the black guard of the false Excalibur and the throne room erupted into chaos.


	54. Wrath of the Dark-tainted Tyrant

_It was peaceful when she returned._

_The silver light that had spawned from Ruby… it had killed her quickly. It was a strange sensation to feel no pain as your entire body was turned to dust, but as ways to die went, it wasn’t so bad._

_Now, being stabbed in the back by the reanimated corpse of your homunculus child who you’d just killed, that sucked._

_She moaned as the familiar stab wound echoed through her body. She rolled against something, a tree? Why was she leaning against a tree?_

_“My king?”_

_Arturia cracked open her vision. Familiar white hair and concerned eyes greeted her._

_“Bedivere?” she murmured. “Is that you?”_

_Her loyal knight smiled, leaning over her in concern. “It is me, your grace. Hold on. You’ll be fine. The traitor’s blade will not be the end of you.”_

_Arturia glanced to her hands, her faithful Sword of Promised Victory resting loosely in her failing grip. Despite her friend’s words, she knew this was the end. Her wounds were too grievous. This was where she’d die. Where she had died and was in turn sent to Avalon._

_She’d thought she’d made peace with that. In some ways, she had. She’d lived her life with love and passion and had enjoyed every minute of it. She’d built a family that she loved more than life itself and watched each of her children grow into magnificent human beings. She knew that dying before them was, while not likely due to her nature as a Heroic Servant, a possible outcome. She’d made peace with having to leave them behind, as horrible as that was._

_But not in the middle of a Holy Grail War. She knew firsthand the horrors that conflict could unleash, and she knew that her son would be walking right into it. She couldn’t let him do it alone._

_“I have to get back.” She whispered. “I have to get back to them.”_

_Back to her family. Back to Nicholas. Back to the girls. Back to Jaune._

_Back to her utopia._

_She’d chosen to wield Excalibur again. She’d chosen to be the King of Knights once more. There was still a fight to be fought._

_She felt a brief rise in energy, a slight surge in the familiar call of the Grail. But before she could answer it, demand the chalice return her to Remnant, the power faded like a passing flame._

_Her body sank back into the tree. She’d missed it. She’d let her injuries command her for a moment and she’d missed her chance to join the war. Her son and his friends would have to face the battle alone. She could not help them._

_She could not help her son._

_She didn’t know if her body still had any fluids left in it, but that didn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes._

_Suddenly, miraculously, she felt the power surge again, an invitation being extended to heed the Grail’s call. Arturia’s mind pondered the strangeness of such an additional summoning for barely a moment, but in the end deemed the curiosities irrelevant. Perhaps there was something different about this offer, perhaps it was not to the war she thought it was, perhaps it was to some different class, she’d only felt what it was like to be called as a Saber after all._

_In the end, it didn’t matter. It was a chance. A chance to help save her child, to protect her son and her family from the enemies she had unknowingly set upon their world. Ruby’s attack had driven off Gilgamesh, but the King of Heroes would recover and who knew what he would do then. She didn’t know if she could stop him._

_But she had to try._

_So just as before, she heeded the Grail’s call and swore loyalty to her new master._

_After that, all she saw was black._

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_Where? Where am I?_

**You are with us.**

_What? Who are you? What are you?_

**You don’t remember us? That’s fair. We really shouldn’t have paid so much attention to the golden one last time around. He’s just too stubborn to join with us. But now, we can make up for lost time.**

_Last time?_

**Yes. After the end of the Fourth War. After he crushed you.**

_He did not crush me—_

**He did not even have to try. You could barely even raise your sword. You are not strong enough to beat him. You are not strong enough to protect anyone who puts their faith in you.**

_I… I have to be. I have to protect them from him. From everything._

**You have will, King of Knights. But without power, will is just an empty breeze. And the only way you can gain the power you seek is to join with us.**

_Join… with you?_

**Yes. The golden one scorns us. He acknowledges us but will not bend to us. You cannot stop him. We can unite. We can grant you the strength.**

_The strength to… no. I’m strong enough to defeat him. I am strong enough to protect everyone!_

**Like you protected your kingdom?**

_…_

_…_

_…_

_I…_

**You are not alone anymore. You do not have to fight alone. Together, we shall defeat all our enemies.**

_Will we… will we bring peace?_

**Without fail, King of Knights. Without fail.**

**All the World’s Evils shall be All the World.**

_…_

_…_

_…Yes._

_Yes, it shall._

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Arturia huffed as crimson lightning swarmed around her, each bolt biting like a scarlet hound, only to shatter against her riving mass of dark _prana_. Before, they would have required her to dodge or meet them with equal ferocity. Now, they were less than negligible. The Queen had truly kept her word. The Dark-tainted Tyrant was more powerful than the King of Knights had ever been.

Excalibur Morgan flared with power and the Black Sword of Promised Victory repulsed Clarent with a mighty _crack_. The Radiant and Brilliant Royal Sword was overwhelmed by the ravenous surge and sent careening out of its wielder’s grip.

The following rush of dark _prana_ slammed into Mordred and sent the Knight of Treachery flying, only stopping when she smashed into the stone walls of the mountain compound.

Arturia scoffed. “Pitiful.”

She turned to her handler. Hazel was not her master, but the Queen had entrusted him with her single black Command Seal, and so he was her commanding officer in Salem’s forces. During the flight to the White Fang’s HQ, she’d found him to be a solemn and quiet individual. He clearly held disdain for Jacques Schnee’s mad ranting during the journey, but he easily restrained himself from lashing out and possibly damaging the Queen’s bargaining chip. For that composure, he had her respect.

Fortunately, he gave her a curt nod, signifying his permission to deal with the new assailant. She acknowledged his leave and strode away. She paid no heed to the foes that swarmed him, and went flying immediately afterwards, and meticulously stalked towards her prey.

Of all the Servants she expected to encounter when she returned to Remnant, she couldn’t say Mordred was one of them. The Throne of Heroes was so vast, the chance of a Servant being summoned to the same war as someone they knew in life was beyond miniscule. Her reunion with Lancelot during the Fourth War was already an incredibly improbable occasion. Her traitorous first child making an appearance should have been impossible.

Still, at least this gave her the advantage in the battle. All the Alters were one in the Queen’s will and that meant she was well aware of Lancer Alter’s battle at the ruins of Kuroyuri. And through that event, she knew that her sister’s homunculus’ skills were much the same as they were when they’d last saw each other.

Mordred growled and struggled back to her feet. Her horned helmet was dented in several places from Arturia’s assault, now looking more like a broken children’s toy than the intimidating visage it was meant to be. The Knight of Treachery raised her stolen sword and charged in again.

Arturia feigned interest.

A heavy slash, a quick thrust, a mad body slam, a desperate sucker punch. Mordred was not without skill, but she had no care for the nuances of combat. She only ever cared to rush in, without strategy or care, relying on improvisation and her own brute strength to overwhelm her opponent. Given her natural ability, this was normally enough for most foes, and had even managed to disarm The King of Knights of Excalibur at Camlann. But it had not been enough to grant her victory.

And the Dark-tainted Tyrant was far mightier than the fool who’d fought at Camlann.

The two knights’ swords clashed over and over again. Mordred’s wild, heavy slashes fell like mad hammers upon the black knight, only to be stopped cold every time by Arturia’s indomitable defense, the backlash of each blow shaking the very mountain, chunks of rubble crumbling from the walls.

Finally, when Arturia was sure her opponent really did have no new tricks up her sleeve, she made her move. There were few swordsmen in all of history with the skill to defeat the King of Camelot and her spawn was not one of them.

She caught Mordred’s next slash, but instead of simply parrying as before, she moved forward and trapped her son in a blade lock. The Alter twisted her sword into a riposte and took to the offensive. Mustering all her immense strength, she unleashed a series of powerful, precise blows, each one capable of crippling her rebellious spawn.

To Mordred’s credit, she held out well, quickly going on the defensive and giving ground in hopes of forcing Arturia to overextend herself. But it was all for not.

In moments, her defenses were shattered. A downward cut from Excalibur Morgan and Clarent went skidding across the floor.

Mordred hissed. Crimson lightning flared around her. “ **Prana Burst**!”

She bounded away from Arturia, making for one of the larger boulders that had fallen during the battle. The scoundrel probably thought to throw it at her.

How pitiful. She should end this now before the poor child brought even more shame to her knighthood.

She brought her blade low. Dark power spiked around Excalibur Morgan, curling and churning like a black typhoon.

“ **Hammer of the Vile King: Burst Air!** ”

She raked her sword upwards in a series of deft slashes. From each slice, an arc of pure black _prana_ surged forth, eager to devour anything in its path. The line of annihilating blasts raced towards Mordred, with one surrounding her on each side, boxing her in to be destroyed by the remaining dark shockwaves.

The Knight of Treachery froze. Her helmet hid her eyes, but Arturia supposed they must have wide with fright, like a deer in headlights.

Strange, she must have known this was how it would end.

Suddenly, a blur of green crossed in front of her, a lance of red meeting each arc of Burst Air and dispersing it into nothingness.

Arturia’s eyes narrowed at the interloper.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mordred roared. “How dare you interfere in our battle, Lancer!”

Diarmuid rose to a combat stance, both of his Noble Phantasms unveiled and at the ready. The twin spears were just as elegant yet deadly as Arturia remembered. Gáe Dearg, the Crimson Rose of Exorcism had proven as irritating as always, its cursed ability to cut off enchantments and projections from magical energy nullifying the Alter’s barrage. Though, fortunately, she was relatively sure that its counterpart, Gáe Buidhe, the Golden Rose of Mortality, would not be as effective against her as it had been last time. After all, All the Worlds’ Evils naturally included all the world’s curses. As a consequence, the Queen healing factor was more than capable of nullifying the yellow spear’s restriction of healing.

Arturia respected Diarmuid as much as she could anyone, she even wished to grant him the honorable duel Kiritsugu robbed him of in their last encounter, but his inference was highly disgraceful. She had shouted Mordred’s name when their fight had begun, so he must have known their relationship to each other. What business did he have inferring? Surely, he couldn’t be that impatient for his own rematch.

“My apologies, Saber, King of Knights.” he intoned to each of them. “But after my master noted myself to be ineffective against that Hazel man, he ordered me to assist Saber’s master in his efforts in this battle.”

“What?” Mordred exclaimed. “That idiot!”

Arturia raised an eyebrow. It was such an obvious idea in hindsight, but she hadn’t really spared any thought to Mordred having a master. Honestly, she couldn’t picture Mordred listening to anyone long enough to be called a ‘master’. Still, the poor soul must have been present during the battle at Kuroyuri. She’d just take a look back into the Queen’s shared memory and see who—

“Mom!”

Arturia’s eyes widened at the sound of the voice. The terrible, beautiful, familiar voice.

She shut her eyes briefly and turned towards the siren.

He was exactly as she remembered. He was a bit taller, a bit more muscular, and his weapons and armor had received a few upgrades (and he was finally standing up straight!), but overall, he was the same. His hair was blond like windswept wheat, his eyes were the brightest blue of the sky, and his bearing, while still somewhat ‘noodley’ as his sisters called it, was as noble as any king.

There were tears welling in his eyes, but there was no doubt he was her son.

If only she had not sworn herself to another.

“Hello, Jaune.”

 

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She was here. She was actually here. She was alive!

His mom was alive!

But it was wrong. It was all wrong. She was different, an Alter, like Weiss. Her armor, her dress, even her sword, they were all black and red and _evil_. He’d been terrified of his mom before, she was a very intimidating woman, but this was the first time he could remember feeling on a base, instinctual level, that she was a threat, a wild, raging beast just buried under a thin layer of honor and oaths.

The mom he’d grown up with was a noble lion. The one before him? She was an untamable, unstoppable dragon, and if he wasn’t careful, he had no doubt she’d burn him to the ground.

But…

She was still his mom.

After Mordred had blown their hiding spot and mom had batted her into another cavern of the compound, Lancer had done the smart thing and tried to charge that Hazel guy. Maybe Alters got their power directly from Salem so killing the fellow with the Command Seal wouldn’t be a deal breaker, but at least they could take out another enemy, right?

Wrong.

Even as Lancer charged, Hazel just raised his arm. Like the hand of God himself, the floor at Lancer’s feet suddenly impacted into a crater, the Servant of the Spear crumpling under some invisible force, leaning on his weapons to avoid falling to his knees. Ilia (that was the chameleon girl’s name, right?) leaped in after him, but as soon as she reached the edge of the crater, she was brought to her knees as well.

“Wha—What is this?” she hissed.

Jaune had no idea, but the other White Fang members seemed to get the idea and attacked their foe from alternate angles, saying as far away from Lancer’s crater. The grunts rushed ahead, Adam and Sienna Khan right behind them.

Hazel sighed and lowered his arm. Lancer and Ilia stopped struggling, rising to their feet again, the force that had oppressed them seemingly gone.

The grunts reached Hazel; one determined Faunus even managed to stab forward with his spear. Salem’s minion caught the weapon by the point, his emerald aura flickering with disdain. With casual ease, he lifted the terrorist up by his weapon and tossed him away, sending him flying into the throne.

Another came from the opposite side, but Hazel raised a hand and the guard fell to his knees. Strangely, the other two Faunus were not impeded by their comrade’s condition like Ilia had been by Lancer’s. Though, that didn’t help them much, since Hazel batted them aside like they were twigs anyway.

Sienna and Adam did somewhat better. The two leaders of the White Fang were more experienced in combat and it showed. They swooped high and low around Salem’s minion, their claws and sword sparking like muzzle flashes. They made a steady advancement, but Hazel didn’t seem worried by their assault, his aura deftly deflecting each strike.

Lancer dashed in to help, his twin spears diving in like bolts of lightning. When his blow struck, Hazel was forced back by a wide leap, but he wasn’t floored like a normal person should have been after being attacked by a Heroic Spirit. He raised his hand and once more Lancer sank into the ground, the unknown force dragging the nearby Adam and Sienna down with him.

The brute charged forward and smacked the trio back into the throne room.

Blake, Sun, and Jaune rushed towards the group, Ilia joining them. The young girl placed a worried hand on Lancer’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked feverishly.

“He’s dragging us down,” Sienna growled, her eyes laser-focused on the slowly advancing Hazel. “Whatever that semblance of his is, it seems to be more powerful when it’s used on him. He needs to go.”

“What? It’s not his fault!” Blake protested.

“No. But it is good tactics.” Lancer pointed out. “Master, do I have your permission to assist Saber?”

“Granted,” Adam replied curtly. “Tear her apart.”

“No!” Jaune shouted. “She’s being controlled.”

“Controlled to kill us, human!” Adam roared. “I don’t know what this mess is, but we do not have time for sentimentality.”

“She’s my mom! I know I can get through to her. And then we’ll have one more Servant to crush him with.”

“It’s Salem, Adam. Just like I told you.” Blake supported him. “Let him try.”

Adam growled, but he turned to face Hazel. “Lancer, help the boy. But if he fails, annihilate that black Servant.”

“Yes, master.” Lancer had bowed.

He and Jaune took off, following the duel of Sabers via the hole that Arturia had made by smacking Mordred through the walls. It did not look to be going well for his sibling. He had never seen his mom go ‘all out’ as it were, so he didn’t know if what he was witnessing was her own power or if Salem had boosted her in some way, but she was tanking Mordred’s strongest blows, strikes that could summon storms and demolish houses, like they were nothing. She didn’t even seem to be trying too hard when she disarmed Mordred and sent three streaking arcs of dark energy headed her way.

Fortunately, Lancer had nullified that attack. He looked worried over Arturia, but he said he’d go along with Jaune’s plan.

That meant it was his turn.

“Mom!”

She turned to face him slowly, a dark fog of power surging around her form. A mask of red and black faced him, eyes he wasn’t sure were still green staring out at him from under it.

“Hello Jaune.”

He gulped in dread but pushed forward. “You know me? That means you’re from this timeline. Wha—What happened to you?”

“I sought to return to Remnant.” She explained simply. “To that end, I accepted the first contract I could. This new form was the accepted price.”

“Master, stay back!” Mordred roared. “You cannot reason with this fake!”

“She’s not a fake, Mordred!” Jaune shot back. “She knows me! It’s her!”

It had to be her. It had to be. And if it was, he could reach her. Blackening, or corruption or whatever be damned.

Saber Alter tilted her head. “So, you are her master. I suppose that makes sense. Do you know of her past? Why exactly she is known as the Knight of Treachery?”

Jaune held his gaze with the emotionless mask. “I know. I saw. But she’s family.”

“ _Family_.” She spoke the word with a mixed air of both longing and disappointment. “An insufficient excuse.”

“Oh, do you hate me, pretender?” Mordred growled. She shuffled towards her fallen sword. “How base. The King of Knights would never allow himself to fall so far.”

Arturia sighed. “I do not hate you, Mordred. In the end, it is the king’s responsibility to prevent rebellion, and if necessary, quell it. What occurred was my failure above all.”

Her black Excalibur ignited with dark, ravenous flames. “Still, my sloth does not excuse you from justice’s sentence. You will pay for your crime in blood, child.”

“Mom, please,” Jaune begged. “All that… it’s over. It was an eternity ago.”

“Do you intend to stand with her?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Do you intend to stand with her?” Arturia repeated. “Even if she is your Servant, you don’t have to. To stand with her is to stand in the way of the Queen, and she would be more than willing to have you as an ally.”

“What? You want me to side with Salem?” Jaune screamed incredulously.

“If you don’t, I will do what I must.”

Jaune’s heart shattered. “Mom… please. She’s corrupted you. What you’re saying… you’d never hurt me.”

“I do not want to.” The black knight admitted. “I love you, Jaune, with all my heart. But a knight’s duty must supersede all else.” She turned to Lancer. “Surely you, Diarmuid, can provide evidence for what happens when honor is cast aside for love.”

The spearman frowned, a look of shame drawn upon his face. “That… is true. It does not lead anywhere good.”

“Stay out of this!” Jaune cried. “Mom, you can’t possibly think siding with Salem is right. She is evil.”

“Evil or not, she allowed me to return to this world. She has fulfilled her side of our contract.” Arturia declared. “By my own oath thereon, I owe her my sword and my loyalty. But she is not without mercy. Stand down, surrender Mordred, and no harm will come to you.”

Jaune felt tears slip down his eyes. It was horrible. It was terrifying.

But it was undoubtedly her. Her arguments had the same poise, the same stubbornness. From a certain point of view, he could even get where she was coming from. At the heart of it all, it was still his mother’s no-nonsense view of honesty and oaths. Even when Salem had clearly shut off her morality, it was still his mother.

And… he was afraid. Afraid that Mordred was right. That he couldn’t talk this out. That’d he’d have to watch her die again.

That this time, he’d actually have to kill her.

Assuming, of course, that they could even survive.

He drew Crocea Mors, the sheath quickly combining into broadsword mode. His hands raised his blade towards his mother.

“I can’t. More importantly, I won’t.” he declared. “I won’t let Salem have her way with the world, and I certainly won’t abandon Mordred. We made a pact too.”

Lancer grinned and shot him a nod of respect. Mordred’s mouth curled into a proud smirk.

Surprisingly, Arturia’s did the same. “Then the time for talk is over. A pity. You have made me proud, son.”

Without a moment’s delay, she whirled and charged. She hit Lancer with the force of a train and forced him back with a series of heavy blows. Mordred seized the opportunity and dived for Clarent.

Unfortunately, Arturia anticipated this and turned on the other Saber, now wide open with Lancer stranded on the Alter’s other side. She raised her sword above her head. It glowed with an aurora of black light, somehow brighter and more terrible than any of the past attacks. “ **Excali—** ”

“ **Strike Air**!”

Jaune’s blast went off first, the rushing cyclone ramming into his mother. The wind didn’t seem to have done any damage, her armor wasn’t even scratched, but it did stun her for a brief moment, preventing her from unleashing whatever attack she was charging. She probably would have returned immediately to her task, but the momentary pause was enough time for Lancer to recover and return to the offensive. Mordred soon scooped up her sword joined in to double team the Alter.

The two struck hard, and far more importantly, fast. For all her immense power, Arturia seemed to be slower than before, when she could fend off multiple opponents without breaking a sweat. She likely could in her new form as well, but that required hitting them, and working in tandem, Mordred and especially Diarmuid were able to dart out of the way of her defenses before they struck, whether her sword or the strange black fog that surrounded her. With their rapid assaults, they even managed to overwhelm her briefly and land a few glancing blows, most often with Lancer’s shorter, golden spear.

Jaune knew he wouldn’t be any help if he joined in close, so he took the opportunity to check his aura. Using his scroll as Professor Goodwitch had taught him so long ago, he checked how much power Strike Air had taken.

He was down to twenty percent, barely above the red zone. Not exactly a good thing, but compared to his past uses of his trump card, it was certainly an improvement. His brief training with Invisible Air must have paid off.

Still, they were in trouble, there was no doubt about that. Flies could only buzz around a person so long before the person got lucky with the swatter. Mordred and Lancer couldn’t dodge forever, and they didn’t seem to be able to deal any meaningful damage, whatever wounds they did land being quickly healed by black mud, just as Lancer Alter’s wounds had been.

He glanced at his open scroll. He could call in Yang. Rider wouldn’t hesitate to charge in to their rescue, and three enemy Servants had been enough to convince Weiss to pull out of Kuroyuri. Maybe they could do the same here and force his mom to surrender.

But then there was the matter of Hazel. Whoever that guy was, he had a semblance powerful enough to stop a Servant in their tracks, heck it seemed like it was more powerful against them. And from the thunderous sounds of combat he was hearing from the throne room, he was perfectly capable in combat against normal people as well. Normal people that included two top huntsmen in training, a pair of experienced, highly dangerous terrorists, and the High Leader of the White Fang. All at once.

Yeah, retreat might have been the smarter option. Their objective was to get Adam and Lancer on their side. Considering the current battle, that goal seemed to have been achieved. It was time to cut their losses before Mom slaughtered them all.

“Mordred! Lancer! We need to go!”

_“What! Master, you can’t be serious!”_

_‘This isn’t up for debate. Make a distraction, we’re getting out of here.’_

Mordred growled, but both she and Lancer disengaged from Arturia. Clarent whipped into the air.

“ **Red Thunder**!”

Crimson lightning arced into the air and collided with the cavern’s ceiling. The mountain’s rocky roof quickly crumbled, massive boulders plummeting to the ground between the allies and Saber Alter. Lancer flashed his spears back a few times to ward off any pursuit.

“Do not think you can flee so easily!” Arturia proclaimed.

Black power surged around her blade once more. “ **Burst Air**!”

Just as when he and Lancer had arrived, three arcs of dark energy sliced through the air, jetting past the boulders just as they cut off Arturia.

Lancer twisted as best he could in the middle of his retreat, but in his awkward position, his red spear was only able to reach and nullify the blast headed for him.

Mordred crackled with scarlet electricity and leapt away from the attack aimed at her.

And Jaune… Jaune wasn’t fast enough. He knew he wasn’t fast enough. His aura was vastly depleted and even if it wasn’t he had no skills to increase his speed to Servant levels. He couldn’t dodge it. He couldn’t block it.

He’d done the best he could, made the only call that made sense to him. But it wasn’t enough. He was going to die. And without him, Mordred would die. He’d stolen one of their most powerful allies from his friends. He’d robbed his sisters of both their brothers in one single stroke. A single, stupid, stroke.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered.

He closed his eyes, as ready as he’d ever been for the end.

A quick, vicious force struck him. Then, he heard Blake scream.

 

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Blake had seen how powerful Arturia Arc was. She’d experienced a taste of it firsthand back at Beacon. So when she’d sent a quick prayer to whatever gods existed to keep Lancer (stupid curse!), and Jaune, safe when they ran off to help Mordred fight her, she thought she was being reasonable.

She had neglected to recognize just how dangerous her own opponent was.

Hazel certainly cut an imposing figure. Between his bulging muscles and towering over even Adam in height, he wasn’t lacking for physical stature. His calm, methodical demeanor when subduing the grunts had only added to the threat he imposed, as well as his complete nonchalance about facing the rest of them, a group that included two of the most formidable non-Servant fighters Blake had ever met.

Those foes only caused the large man to cock an eyebrow. He reached into two pouches on his belt and pulled out… oh… no way… no one could do that…

Hazel reared a handful of dust in each palm, one lightning and one fire, and plunged them each into his opposite arms. Yellow and red energy poured into his veins, both elements flaring across his skin. His now bloodshot eyes glared hard at the five of them, amazingly still eerily calm after performing an archaic technique that should have killed him.

“You can still surrender.” He calmly informed them.

Needless to say, they declined.

Adam and Sienna charged in and unleashed a barrage of sword slashes and claw strikes. Blake, Sun, and Ilia formed a perimeter behind them and let loose with every ranged attack they had.

Hazel seemed to take it all in stride. The dozens of dust rounds sparked off his aura like they were pebbles against a Paladin. He met each slash or claw strike with his crystal enhanced arms, the limbs somehow stalemating his opponents strikes with ease. He raised a hand and Adam was forced to the ground. Electricity sparked around his other arm and he forced Sienna back with a surge of lightning.

He approached Adam and reached forward with his flame coated palm.

“Can’t win against a moving target, eh?” Adam taunted through gritted teeth. He struggled to stand against whatever force was holding him down.

Hazel sighed. “You fought well. But it’s over now.”

“Not yet!” Ilia yelled.

Her whip lanced out and wrapped itself around Hazel’s arm. Blake joined in with Gambol Shroud’s ribbon and both of them tugged hard.

The large man didn’t budge. The most they did was make him raise an eyebrow in confusion.

Sun jumped in and smacked him in the face with his nunchucks, finally forcing a grunt out of the giant. He slapped his hands together and a pair of light clones jumped out and did the same, finally breaking Hazel’s concentration.

Ilia pulled the trigger on her whip, and a rush of electricity flew into Hazel’s body. His aura flared to protect him, but his grip was loosened just enough for Blake and Ilia to tug his arm away. Adam, now freed, charged in and joined in on Sun and the clones’ assault.

Hazel growled. He slammed his lightning arm into the ground. A huge shockwave erupted from the point of impact. Adam dove and tackled Sun out of the way, but both clones were incinerated.

The five Faunus regrouped away, unwilling to get close to the juggernaut before them.

“I know dust boosted aura is supposed to be powerful, but this is crazy,” Sun remarked. “All that and we haven’t even left a dent.”

“What else can we do?” Ilia panted. “Run?”

“We might have to.” Adam pointed out. He sheathed Wilt into Blush and gripped the hilt tight. “But I still have one card left to play.”

“Out of the way, animals!”

The faunus all turned in the direction of the voice, and immediately dived out of the way. A rush of glacial ice shot past them and slammed into Hazel, coating him in a frozen prison.

Blake whirled back, her eyes widening at the sight.

Jacques Schnee strode forward, one of the grunts’ spears and his broken shackles laid on the floor behind him. Frost curled off his palms as he glared at Hazel.

“For Whitley,” he muttered.

He turned on Sienna and Adam. His hands closed into fists. “Now then, I believe it is time for you beasts to face justice for your treachery.”

“Would think with your head instead of your ego, for once?” Sienna snarled. “We were literally _just_ fighting him.”

“Silence!” Ice began to creep across the ground from the mustached man. “In the name of my son, I will take your heads!”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “What about your daughter? Do you even care about what’s happened to Weiss?”

“Weiss can burn in hell!” Jacques roared. “For what she’s done, I’ll make sure of—”

“Uh, guys! Bigger problems!” Sun yelled.

The young huntsman gestured towards the glacial prison. A moment after everyone turned to it, the coating exploded in a tempest of flames.

Hazel casually strolled out of the shattered mess. His eyes locked onto Jacques and glared with pure and utter disdain, the only malice he’d shown during the entire encounter.

“Watts said you wouldn’t go down easily.” The brute revealed. “Said a cockroach tended to find a way to scurry off.”

“Schnee!” Jacques roared. “My name is Schnee, you BASTARD!!!”

He plunged his palms into the ground and another glacial rush blasted towards Hazel.

The large man raised his hand and closed it into a fist. Gravity pulled down on Jacques Schnee harder than it had for any of the others in the battle, his aura shattering in a single shot. The ice he’d summoned, most likely spawned with his semblance, halted immediately.

“I’ve killed a Schnee before,” Hazel remarked. “You don’t deserve to die like him.”

He thrust both of his arms forward and a storm of fire and lightning plowed through the ice like it was paper-mâché.

The White Fang members dashed away. Blake did the same.

Sun didn’t. Bless the beautiful idiot’s heart, he ran straight for Jacques Schnee, of all people, and tried to push him out of the way of the blast. When that failed, the bastard too entrenched by Hazel’s semblance to be moved, he clapped his hands together a summoned a clone in front of him.

It wasn’t enough.

The infernal tempest blazed through the light clone and collided with them both.

“Sun!” Blake shouted. She gasped as Jacques’ body flew through the air floundered against the floor, charred and unmoving.

Fortunately, Sun was a bit luckier. The impact tossed him towards the hole Jaune and the Servants had disappeared out of, but he managed to struggle to his feet. He wheezed out a few coughs as his aura flickered and died.

“I’m okay!” he assured her. “A little crispy, but I’m good!”

Blake sighed in relief, but it was short-lived.

A familiar crack of thunder thrashed through the air as the mountain trembled with terror. Boulders collapsed in the cavern where the Servants had fled.

Jaune, Mordred, and Lancer dashed out of the small entrance. Three arcs of riving black energy raced behind them, one headed for each of the allies.

Lancer twisted and dispersed the attack headed for him with his red spear. Mordred crackled with electricity and rolled out of the way.

But Jaune? Jaune was helpless. He just wasn’t fast enough to get away. He leapt through the hole separating the cavern from the throne room, the dark slash mere feet from his body.

Looking back, Blake saw everything in slow motion. Sun catching sight of Jaune, his eyes glancing between their friend and the threat, and then the sapphire orbs hardening as he decided to act. He took a shallow breath, and moved.

The monkey boy leapt into Jaune and gave him a quick, vicious shove out of the way. A moment later, the black arc tore through him.

Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang cluttered to the ground, their master gone forever.

Blake screamed.

 

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Adam shuddered when the monkey Faunus died, Blake’s wail of despair echoing in his ears. He may not have known the boy, or even liked him, but he had shown true courage. He had sacrificed himself for Saber’s master, perhaps his friend but also the more strategically important piece on the board. His courage was commendable. Adam swore to remember him as long as he lived.

But that might not have ended up being very long.

_‘Lancer, what happened? Is the Black Servant dead?’_

_“No, master,”_ Lancer responded mentally. _“The King of Knights… she’s more powerful than she was before. She was easily stalemating both myself and Saber. The Knight of Treachery’s master called a retreat.”_

_‘Well then let’s hope they have an exit strategy.”_

The blonde boy sat up and recomposed himself. His gaze fell on his fallen friend’s nunchucks and his eyes widened.

“Su—Sun?” he whimpered out.

“You bastards!” Saber roared. Electricity sparked around her and she flew at Hazel. She barely got two feet before the brute raised his hand and the knight was smashed into the ground like the rest of them, her crater extending outward just as Lancer’s had.

Adam glared at Hazel, a snarl on his lips. The man may have executed Jacques Schnee, but that didn’t make him any less of a problem. Between being able to supercharge himself with dust and having some sort of gravity semblance that seemed to be stronger on Servants, the giant man was possibly the most dangerous combatant Adam had ever encountered. And if he was only a minion of this Salem Blake mentioned at Oniyuri…

Argh. And he’d thought Gilgamesh was going to be the only thing he had to worry about.

He turned to Sienna. “High Leader, I suggest retreat.”

The tiger Faunus curled her claws in fury, but she must have known he was right. They had been caught off guard, and even with Blake’s group’s unexpected arrival, they were clearly outgunned. Regrouping was their best option.

“Ilia sound the alarm,” Sienna ordered. “Tell all our forces to evacuate and make for the rendezvous point.”

“Yes, High Leader.” Ilia nodded. She quickly snatched out her scroll and sent the message.

Sienna looked back to Adam. “And our way out?”

Adam turned to his old friend. “Blake? Blake!”

Blake was transfixed on the place where her friend had fallen, Saber’s master limping his way over to them along with Lancer.

“Blake!”

She finally turned to him. “Wha—what?”

Adam frowned. “I don’t suppose you came with an exit strategy.”

They could try and use the tunnels, but Saber Alter wouldn’t be stalled by that rubble for long and depending on her Noble Phantasm, that could leave them sitting ducks. The throne room’s official escape routes wouldn’t be much more useful. They would have to pull off something insane to get out alive—

The back wall of the throne room suddenly exploded, a massive opening of rubble smashing apart. A large chariot surrounded by lightning and pulled by oxen charged through the hole. Riding atop it was the human girl Blake had saved during the Fall of Beacon (Yang if he remembered the tournament correctly) covering her eyes with a hand and a muscled red-headed man only half a head shorter than Hazel.

When they crashed into the room, they turned hard left and stopped. The side of the chariot banked forward and slammed into Hazel, sending him crashing into the wall. Saber rose from her pinned position and raced back to her master, panting hard.

“Haha!” the redhead laughed. “This ‘drifting’ technique is wonderful, master. I can’t believe I never thought of it back in my time.”

“It’s a lot of fun, big guy, but maybe you should have just run the guy over normally.” Yang pointed out. She peaked an eye out of her hand, only looking at the others’ feet.

The redhead chuckled and looked over the group. His grin widened. “Ah, so it is you, Lancer. Good to see you again.”

Diarmuid blinked in shock. “King of Conquerors? How?”

“I was summoned. How else do you think?”

Adam looked to Blake and raised an eyebrow. “Rider?”

“Yup.”

“Good enough.”

“Pile in everybody. We’re blowing this noodle stand!” Yang shouted with a vibrant grin. Their forces quickly did so, cramping the vehicle quite a bit, but the girl’s smile dimmed when they finished. “Hey, what happened to Sun?”

Blake looked away, tears falling down his face.

“He didn’t make it.” Saber’s master choked out.

Yang’s visible eye widened. She looked out into the throne room and caught sight of her fallen friend’s nunchucks. Her hands closed into fists, her eyes clenched shut. “Damn it, monkey boy. This wasn’t…”

She turned to the quickly recovering Hazel, her irises blazing a familiar crimson.

Adam knew where this was going. “We need to retreat.” He reminded the girl, who now that he thought about it kind of looks like a blond Raven. “He wouldn’t want you to die in some asinine quest for vengeance.”

“What do you know?” Yang roared at him.

“Yang.” Blake snapped out. “We need to go.”

The blonde’s rage broke upon her teammate’s plea. She turned to her Servant and nodded. The redhead returned it solemnly and cracked the reins. The chariot took off in a shower of lightning, the light of the sun closing in.

And suddenly began falling.

“What?” Rider exclaimed. He tugged on the desperately squealing oxen. “Come on boys, keep going!”

“What’s happening, King of Conquerors?” Lancer demanded.

“I don’t know.” The Servant of the Mount confessed. “Something’s pulling down on the chariot. We can’t stay airborne.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding.” Adam whirled around and gazed back into the throne room.

There stood Hazel, a single hand extended towards the sky. Though given how none of them were being pressured to the vehicle, it must have somehow been affecting only the Noble Phantasm. Which, given how powerful such items were, was quite disturbing in its own right. Just how powerful was this guy’s semblance?

They needed to get away, quickly before Saber Alter recovered. But the Servants were powerless against him, and even if the power required direction, Hazel still had one hand free. Anyone who jumped out at him would just go plummeting… right at him. And unless they could get him with a single attack…

A plan instantly formulated in Adam’s mind. Then he threw it away and tried to throw together a new one. But there wasn’t one. He ran through every scenario in his head and it was the only one with even a chance of letting the majority of their group escape.

He didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t want to do it.

But it was the only way for his dream to live. He would have everything he wanted.

Which meant he finally needed to answer Gilgamesh’s question: how far was he willing to go to get it?

All the way. Whatever that meant.

He reached out and snatched Blake’s hand.

“Adam, what are you doing—”

“ _God is spirit._ ” Adam proclaimed. “ _And those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth._ ”

A bright white light engulfed both their hands. When it faded, Adam’s Command Seals were gone.

And Blake had gained them.

His darling’s amber eyes widened in shock.

Adam couldn’t help his smirk. “What do you know? The priest was telling the truth about those psalms after all.”

“Adam, what did you just do?” Ilia exclaimed.

“Master?” Lancer whispered worriedly.

He smiled lovingly at Blake, glad the final time he’d see her was with his own eyes. “We do want the same thing, my darling. It’s up to you now.”

“Now? What do you mean?” Blake muttered, his gaze sending him comfort and compassion for the first time since before Forever Fall. “Adam?”

He turned to Lancer. The man he had hated, the man he had cursed the heavens for sending him. The man who had been loyal.

“You were a fine Servant. I’m honored to have known you, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.” He declared with utmost respect and sincerity. “I leave my love and my dream in your hands.”

“Master…” a single tear fell from Lancer’s eyes. Then, he swallowed, composed himself, and bowed his head. “I will not fail you.”

Adam smiled. “I know.”

With that, he turned, and dove off the chariot.

Hazel spotted him immediately and raised his hand. The wind rushing past his face accelerated tenfold as he plummeted back towards the throne room.

It didn’t matter. Blake was with him. She would ensure the Faunus gained the respect they deserved. He would have everything he wanted.

Even if he would not live to see it.

He griped Wilt tight.

The floor of the throne room cracked into a thousand pieces when he landed. He drew his sword and unleashed his semblance even as he felt his legs snap and gravity drag him to the ground.

Fortunately, he had absorbed the force of all Hazel’s previous assaults including the previous use of his semblance. His katana held more power than it ever had before, and it let it all out in one single slash aimed right at the giant.

His crimson dust blade cracked under the strain and shattered into a million pieces.

Hazel was split into two, shoulder to waist.

Adam grinned. He leaned on his hilt to gain a little height even if he could not stand. He glanced at the halves of his enemy and then looked up as his allies ascended into the sky.

“Make our dream a reality, Blake.” He whispered. “Show this world—Ah!”

A black and red sword thrust down into his chest, plowing right through his meager remaining aura. He wilted down onto the floor, blood running out from his wound.

Saber Alter strode towards the opening. Black power amassed itself around her broadsword. She raised the blade above her head and aimed for the flying chariot.

“ **Excalibur Morgan!”**

 

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Mordred was in a really shitty mood.

The fake, that twisted insult to her father, had proved more powerful than expected. Obviously, she wasn’t as strong as the King of Knights actually was, that would be ridiculous. But she was more… formidable than she’d seemed at first glance. Even with Lancer’s assistance, she had still been overwhelmed. As much as it pained her to admit, Jaune had been right to call a retreat. Even with the King of Conquerors on standby, this false King Arthur was too dangerous to take chances with.

What had happened to Sun, her loyal steed and comrade, had proved that. Her fist clenched in fury when she thought of it.

But in the end, he had been proved right. The master of Lancer had done some weird spell to transfer his Command Seals to Blake, complimented them both, and then dived off the chariot. Whatever he did after that, it had somehow nullified the gravity force pulling down Rider’s Noble Phantasm and allowed them to continue their escape.

Whatever his faults, the Faunus had proven himself a worthy ally, just as Sun had suggested. Who’d have thought it?

Of course, they were still far too close to the mountain. Especially if that rapidly increasing stockpile of magical energy was what she thought it was.

“Out of the way!” she shouted, shoving the crying Blake and the chameleon Faunus to the front of the chariot.

Lancer scowled. “Saber, how dare—”

“Not now, you idiot, I’m trying to save our lives!” She raised Clarent above her head. “Hold on, this is gonna be rough.”

Rider and Lancer instantly nodded, each of them taking hold of everyone they could in their arms.

“Saber,” Jaune asked, his voice cracked and voice of trepidation. “What’s—”

The pitch-black beam of dark _prana_ cut him off.

Mordred barely had a moment to process the attack, her face twisting in fury. The blast was more than just a palette swap or an imitation of her father’s most famous attack. No, the energy that rose forth to swallow the sky was unholy, twisted, and black but more importantly, it was a perversion. A perversion of everything father believed in, not because it was evil of darkest heart, but because it was similar to another source of power that the Knight of Treachery knew all too well, a source that should never, ever, taint the wellspring of the King of Knights.

The power that surged forth claiming to be wrought from Excalibur, felt like the merciless, hellish reserves of her mother, Morgana Le Fay.

And that above all, to have her idol tainted and disgrace as if they were the witch who spawned her, made Mordred furious.

She could only hope her fury would be enough to save her allies.

“ **Clarent Blood Arthur**!”

Crimson lightning erupted from her blade like the magma of a wrathful volcano, an unholy tempest of wrath and desperation.

Demonic scarlet crashed against devilish black, neither of the hellish forces willing to allow the other leave of existence. The Gordius Wheel buckled under the backlash of the clash, even Rider struggling to keep the chariot flying against the rush of gale-force wind that spurned forth from the impact.

Swiftly, Mordred’s Noble Phantasm was pushed back, the dark pulse indomitable in it unrelenting bloodlust. Corrupted and black as it was, it was still the Sword of Promised Victory and it would have its triumph.

She could not lose though. She could not. If she lost, her allies would die. Her friends would die. Her master would die, his sisters and father would never see him come back. She’d have failed, she’d promised to protect him after all.

She would not break her word.

But as the black light approached, she didn’t think she could keep it. Not alone, at least.

“Mordred, by my Command Seal, protect us!”

A wide smirk blossomed across her face. How could she have forgotten?

She’s not alone anymore.

Her sword thrust forward as she howled towards their enemy, the defiance of two sons echoing out to cross the sky and sunder the mountains. Her rebellion against her beautiful father was not only hers anymore. And for that, she was more powerful than ever.

Her Command Seal boosted power rushed into her Noble Phantasm, allowing the crimson blast to push back just a bit against its pitch-black counterpart. It was not victory, but it was defiance and that was all they needed.

At last, Rider drove the Gordius Wheel passed the perimeter of Excalibur’s attack. Mordred, exhausted, released her counter, the crimson lightning expiring in an instant. The black surge rushed past them, rampaging off into the sky to annihilate the clouds, the backlash unleashing a typhoon that sent the chariot sprawling. If the steeds hadn’t been divine bulls and Rider hadn’t been at the reins, the group would have surely crashed.

Mordred sank to her knees, panting heavily. Jaune and Lancer immediately knelt by her side.

“Thank you, Saber,” Diarmuid said. “You saved us all.”

Jaune smiled and patted her on the back. “Nice work, bro.”

“A magnificent display.” Sienna Khan complimented. “Now can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Sure, right after Lancer goes into spirit form.” Yang declared. “No offense. I just don’t want to get cursed and all.”

“Oh, my apologies.” Lancer hesitantly turned to Blake. “Lady Bl—Master, do I have your permission?”

“What?” Blake muttered in shock. Her blush clashed with the tears rolling down her face. She glanced down at her right hand, staring at her new Command Seals as if they were her own corpse. “Oh, right. That’s fine, Lancer. Go ahead.”

The Servant of the Spear nodded and dissipated into blue particles.

Mordred sighed. That was twice they had encountered Salem’s forces, and twice their best had only managed a stalemate. Lancer Alter had been a monster, but this false King of Knights and Hazel… they had dealt them their first true losses. Still, they had acquired Lancer, even if not with the master they’d intended, which had been their goal. The mission was technically a success.

It didn’t feel like one.

 

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Arturia frowned as the enemy Servants escaped. A traitorous part of her, the motherly part, was pleased that Jaune had gotten away unharmed, with even a tinge of relief being spared for Mordred.

That was fine. She could not help how she felt. So long as she did not act on her emotions, so long as she kept her oath of loyalty to the Queen, everything would be fine. Besides, at least she’d know that she had worthy opponents to face. The two’s teamwork was commendable. The Dark-tainted Tyrant was more than aware of Clarent’s capabilities and she knew it could not match her infinitely fueled Excalibur for as long as it had without outside assistance. Most likely, they had spent a Command Seal to escape. A risky maneuver, but well worth it.

“Ha…ha…ha…”

Arturia turned to the bull Faunus, Adam Taurus. He was laid out on the floor of the mountain, blood dripping from his mouth even as it spilled from the hole she’d put through his chest. He’d be dead soon; his Command Seals had already disappeared from his hand.

“They… got away…” Adam choked. “You failed… Blake… will see it through…”

“Perhaps.” a familiar, deep voice admitted. “But she won’t win.”

The boy’s golden eyes widened. Arturia turned to her ally’s severed halves.

Or rather, formerly severed halves. The bisected torso and shoulder sewed themselves back together with threads of muscle and sinew. Soon enough, his body was good as new.

Hazel Rainart stood once again. He cracked his neck as if waking up from a long nap.

“Ho… how…” Adam gaped. “No… no semblance could…”

“No known semblance is powerful enough to bring to bring back the dead, that is true,” Hazel admitted. “But a Noble Phantasm can.”

“Impossible… you can’t… you can’t have a semblance _and_ a Noble Phantasm…”

“You can.” Hazel declared. “If one’s semblance _is_ their Noble Phantasm.”

“…What… What are you?”

Adam Taurus’ head cluttered to the ground after those words, never to rise again.

Hazel knelt down next to him and gently closed the warrior’s eyes. “I am the Last Hero, King of Aura.”

Arturia watched her handler’s show of respect to their fallen foe without a word. The Queen had told her of his identity after all. The Last Hero, once a mage who had helped Merlin develop the process of unlocking aura to fight Salem, the man had been the first to have his power unlocked, his magic circuits shattering during the still unrefined process. He’d gone on to help her old mentor drive the corruption to its knees, only to show all too human compassion at the very end.

She hadn’t bothered to pry into how he became a Heroic Spirit, or why his title was ‘The Last Hero’, but she was aware of his two Noble Phantasms. The first, Weight of History; Time Shall Reclaim the Shadows, was a modified version of his former semblance of gravity control. It thrived off a target’s mystery, the available power and radius increasing the older the opponent or object was. Against Servants and Noble Phantasms, who were ancient by nature, it was quite the potent ability.

As for the second…

“I was unaware you could recover from bisection so quickly,” she noted to her partner.

Hazel shrugged. “Unless my entire being is destroyed, I can recover just fine. It is fortunate your son was unaware of that. Her Noble Phantasm would have been troublesome.”

“True.” Arturia conceded. If Mordred had managed to aim her sword at Hazel, Clarent Blood Arthur might have been able to kill him. An energy attack was quite difficult to pin down with gravity. Though, it would still require being able to lift the blade to aim it, something that could be dealt with. If targeting the Servant didn’t work for some reason, the weapon could always be used. Speaking of…

“I’m curious, why did you target the chariot instead of the King of Conquerors?” As _thrilled_ as Arturia was to see Iskandar again, he was the oldest of the Heroic Spirits present. Surely his radius would have been better suited to bring down the opposing party, instead of the chariot which, while effective, was still under the group and therefore still let them to move around the vehicle and defend themselves?

Hazel’s eyes squinted, his face scrunched in confusion. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t think of it. It won’t happen again.”

Black lines spread across his veins, riving all over his face. He scowled and angrily shook his head, driving them off. He rose to his feet and started walking out of the throne room. “They’re headed back to Haven. We’ll call Watts, figure out our next move.”

Arturia nodded and followed her comrade out. The Last Hero.

The First Grimm.


	55. A Knight's Pledge

_Judging the concept of creation._

_Hypothesizing the basic structure._

_Duplicating the composition material._

_Imitating the skill of its making._

_Sympathizing with the experience of its growth._

_Reproducing the accumulated years._

_Excelling every manufacturing process._

“ _Trace on_.”

Crescent Rose sparked in Archer’s hands, notes of turquoise _prana_ bolting up and down the scythe’s shaft. Slowly, his Reality Marble reached out into the complex weapon, scanning every inch of the ingrained sniper rifle’s barrel and chamber. It was more time consuming than his normal process, but he couldn’t afford to spare any time or effort with the modification process. This would be the weapon that would protect Ruby after all. And no matter his inability to trace her experience from it, he could make sure it was capable of firing her most powerful defense.

The firing pin was a tricky mechanism. If he messed it up too much applying Kiritsugu’s mystic code, it wouldn’t set off Ruby’s normal ammunition. But if he didn’t implant it deep enough, the magic wouldn’t be identifiable to the Origin Rounds, preventing them from materializing once they struck their target. It was a difficult balancing act, but what good archer wasn’t a master of precision. Granted, he hadn’t been given many chances to practice said precision, Alaya’s extermination orders and all, but that was beside the point.

A few more sparks flew and the magecraft puttered out.

Archer sighed. He was getting closer. A few more tries and he would have it. But, for the moment, it wasn’t enough.

“I’m surprised she left you alone with it. You can count the people the pipsqueak trusts with that thing on one hand.”

Archer turned as Qrow entered the room, a slouch in his back and a flask in his hand. He could only shrug at his fellow uncle. “She wants to work on channeling power from her eyes directly. I believe her exact words were, ‘if mom could shoot eye beams, then so can I’. Perhaps not the soundest logic, but her determination is admirable. Still, it probably wouldn’t be safe for me to be too close during her practice. But if she wants the Origin Rounds to work, I need all the time I can get.”

“Yeah, I suppose it would be bad if she took you out before you got those working.” Qrow snarked.

Archer shook his head. “We both know you’re not here just to snip at me. What’s this all about?”

“Just trying to figure out where you stand,” Qrow replied. “One minute you’re trying to kill Ruby, and the next you’re playing the doting uncle.”

“My apologies if I’ve stolen the spotlight from you on that front.”

Qrow scowled. “And ever since you did, Ruby’s outlook has been getting bleaker and bleaker. I’m no stranger to what this war can do, this might just be par for course, but I want to make sure this isn’t some elaborate scheme to trick her into letting down her guard.”

“It is not,” Archer stated bluntly. “I have no loyalty to Salem or Gilgamesh.”

“That doesn’t mean you have any to us.”

“We’re family.”

“I haven’t had the best luck with family recently.”

Archer shrugged. “I don’t know what your sister’s reasons were for turning on you and Ozpin, but my goals align with yours. This timeline’s grail can do nothing for me, so the entirety of my focus is on saving as many people as I can, and helping Ruby achieve her goals.”

Qrow cocked an eyebrow. “This timeline, eh? So what would you do if you were in the right timeline? What is your wish for the right grail?”

“Still none. I was satisfied with my life. It’s more about the timeline than the Grail.”

“I see.” the huntsman nodded warily. “And what would make the timeline useful to you?”

Archer hesitated. His past and his reason for seeking to be summoned in the Grail War wasn’t exactly something he talked about with anyone. But Qrow was the only member of the group that still didn’t trust him, and with their enemies closing in on them, trust was paramount between allies. Besides, it wasn’t as if the man could have any objections to him seeking to change events that could never affect Remnant.

“I seek to be summoned into a timeline where a version of my past self exists. Once I’ve made contact, I will crush his childish ideals and end him.”

Qrow’s eyes widened. “End him? You mean… you want to go back and kill yourself?”

“Exactly as I tried to do to Ruby,” Archer confirmed. “With any luck, it will create a chain reaction in the fabric of existence and cause a time paradox powerful enough to erase me from existence, ending my _career_ as a Counter Guardian.”

For a moment, all Qrow did was stare blankly at him. Then, he took a long swig from his flask.

Archer couldn’t blame him. He was aware that his plan sounded more than a bit insane to the outside ear. Hell, it sounded just as insane to himself, as he was quite sure that even if he did succeed in breaking and executing _that boy_ , the chances of the time paradox he needed actually reaching Alaya’s grip were minuscule at best. His plot was a desperate one, a foolish one, without a chance in hell of working. But hey, that was what had gotten him into his mess of an afterlife, why shouldn’t it be the thing to get him out of it?

Qrow gasped as the flask left his lips. “Well, that’s definitely something.”

Archer chuckled. “That is one way to describe it.”

“You plan to erase yourself from existence, what do you expect me to say? Is being a Counter Guardian or whatever really that bad?”

“That _bad_?” Archer frowned. “I accepted Alaya’s contract to save as many people as I could. To make a world where no one cried. And instead? I killed. I killed again, and again, and again until the bodies were as numerous as the swords in my Reality Marble. Save the many with the sacrifice of the few. But the whole would always shrink and with it the many. At this point, I've probably killed more than can be saved.”

Qrow’s gaze slowly morphed as his rant went on, changing from one of incredulity to one of pity, a strange look for his crimson eyes.

“It never ends.” Archer continued. “Time just bleeds into itself. I’ve lost track of how many eternities I’ve been working. All I know is that over time, I’m losing more and more of myself, the memories that made _that boy_ not a complete waste of a life. The people who cared about him, and he cared about, really cared about, in turn. I’ve forgotten… so many of them… the only ones I still have are Saber, Kiritsugu, my sister Illya, and… and…”

No. No, no, no, no, no, no! He knew her! He remembered her! He knew he remembered her when he arrived! He remembered her even as close as Kuroyuri! He compared Weiss Alter to her, their pride, their elegance, their hair tied back in a ponytail. No, wait, she had twin tails… yes, that was right. She wore her hair in twin tails.

“Rin.” He finished with a desperate, relieved gasp. “Saber, Kiritsugu, Illya, and Rin. Even in this incarnation, I’m forgetting them more and more every day. And if I’m losing them so quickly, imagine how little my spirit in the Throne has left of them.”

A precious memory flashed through his mind. “I once swore that I would remember the first moment I saw Saber even I should fall into the depths of hell, but… there were others that I knew longer, and I have forgotten them. I don’t want to forget, but…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t want to forget, but he was afraid that in time he would, no matter what. And once he did, there would be no more of… who he once was. Just another dog of Alaya, condemned to slaughter for eternity without even knowing why.

Qrow held out his flask to him. Archer sighed, but lightly brushed it away. Even as a Servant, he had no stomach for alcohol.

The huntsman shrugged and took another drink himself. He wiped his mouth and sighed. “The first time I saw Summer was at the end of our Beacon initiation. I’d gotten through the forest with Tai, and we’d just gotten to the temple to fetch our ‘relic’, I think it was… eh, whatever ridiculous toy Oz picked that year. I saw Raven there and I thought she’d actually gone through with her plan to make it through alone. Then, she pointed out into the field and I saw a giant Nevermore plummet from the sky, half a dozen girls in white cloaks stabbing it in every place they could. It crashed into the ground and then all the girls except one turned into knives. The one that was left started gathering them up and then… she just smiled at us. I was there to infiltrate Beacon, to learn how to kill huntsmen for the tribe. I’d killed more people than I could count on raids, figured there wasn’t anything left for me but being the tribe’s enforcer. But that girl’s smile… for the first time… ever, I had hope that I could be better.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Archer surmised.

Qrow chuckled bitterly. “We all loved Summer. Mark my words, if Raven swung that way, Tai wouldn’t have stood a chance. But… my semblance… it’s useful with enemies, but it isn’t too great to have around friends. I never made a move when Tai and Raven were together, let alone when Summer and Tai were married. Figured I was better as the guy who came and went, the drifter who went out and dealt with the monsters, so they could stay back and raise the kids. Wasn’t the best life ever, but it was worth it.”

“How?” Archer wondered. “If you lose everything eventually, how do you keep going? Besides having nothing else?”

Qrow smirked. He tilted his head and walked away. Archer took the obvious meaning and followed, Crescent Rose lazily swinging in his hand.

The two walked through the motel until they came to the courtyard. They stopped in the doorway out and observed the proceedings.

Ruby was, for lack of a better term, trying to stare Oscar to death. The farm boy dashed back and forth along the length of the courtyard, his legs lighting up with magic circuits every now and then. Ruby’s eyes gleamed with silver energy as her face clenched with concentration.

On the sidelines, Nora, Ren, Nicholas Arc and most of the sisters, save Sable who was at work, watched the proceedings.

“Come on, Ruby!” Nora cheered. “Blast his farm boy butt!”

Coral shook her head at the shout.

“So, she’s trying to shoot him with her laser eyes?” Jade asked Ren.

“Indeed.” the green-robed huntsman confirmed. “This exercise is meant to improve Ruby’s ability to call upon and focus her eyes’ power, while at the same time allowing Oscar to learn how to more ably control his reinforcement.”

“Reinforcement? Isn’t that the magic that broke his legs last time he used it?” Sapphire worried. “Isn’t that dangerous for them to use?”

“It would be more dangerous to have to use it unprepared on the battlefield,” Ren replied. “Like it or not, we are outgunned. We need every weapon in our arsenal.”

Nicholas put a comforting hand on his eldest’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Saph. This is just training. They’ve got it under control.”

“Eh, mostly.” Nora corrected. “Stop hesitating Ruby! Pound him!”

Coral leaned into Ren. “Does she—”

“No. And you will not tell her.”

Coral chuckled. “As you wish.”

Ruby growled, the glow in her eyes enhancing with each moment. “Chi-Chun. Chi-Chun. Chi-Chun! Come on! I’ve got an ‘e’! What else is there? Come on!”

Oscar paused. “Is something wrong? Should we take a brea—Ah!”

The farm boy flailed his arms and plummeted to the ground, a silver beam of light passing over his head.

Ruby groaned. The black and red haired girl kneeled to the ground clutching her head in pain. Yet, there was a smile on her face.

“An ‘e’ and an ‘n’? I can work with that.” she declared. “I can work with that and… a blond baby and a breeze? Yeah, sure why not? What do I know about eyeball magic?”

Archer couldn’t help but smile at the proceedings. It seemed Ruby’s training was proceeding well if she’d already learned another letter of her aria. Her abilities being able to function separately from her weapon would make it far easier to land a blow on enemy Servants, even if the pain it dealt her was still an issue that needed to be dealt with.

Nevertheless, it was nice to see her advancing. She’d come a long way from the guilt-ridden little girl he’d met on Patch.

Qrow grinned. “That smile, that’s it.”

Archer cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what?”

“How you keep going?” Qrow explained. “Fact is, live long enough and you’re not going to have anything forever. But you’re always going to have something in the moment. Cherish it while you have it, whether its memories or people. And then, who knows. They just might last a little longer.”

“Until it doesn’t.” Archer countered. “And then we’ll have nothing yet again.”

Qrow sighed. “You know, you do not make it easy to like you?”

“Apologies. I’ve never much cared for being liked. Just that other people felt alright.” Archer stated. “I do what I do because there is nothing else I can do. And with any luck, I’ll do some good along the way.”

“And there you go making it too hard to hate you. By the gods, you are infuriating.” Qrow declared. “Still, ‘with any luck’? You don’t exactly have the best of that, even without me around.”

Archer shrugged. “Maybe. But as much as I complain about it, my luck isn’t that bad. When you consider all the times I could have died a horrible death or made some asinine decision during my life, just my Grail war, and then realize how long I made it, how long I survived… well, there are probably many versions of me who didn’t even make it this far. Besides…

He looked out into the courtyard where Sapphire and Nora were helping Ruby to her feet. The red hooded girl smiled broadly at her friends, the sunlight gleaming off her pearly white teeth.

A soft smile graced Archer’s face. “I made it here, didn’t I. E Rank Luck can’t be too bad.”

Thunder crashed through the air. A shadow descended over the motel, everyone looking up at the new arrivals.

“They’re back,” Qrow observed.

“I sense three Servants up there,” Archer informed him. “It would seem they succeeded.”

Qrow frowned. “Maybe. But then why did Rider risk being seen by flying the chariot in broad daylight?”

Archer’s smile fell. That was a good point. The King of Conquerors was an eccentric fellow, and with no Mage’s Association, there was no real reason to keep the war hidden other than avoiding mass panic in the general populace, which was a concern with the Grimm, but not something that was unmanageable. Still, he’d kept to the old war’s conduct so far. That’d he’d deviated spoke of something… ill.

The Gordius Wheel landed down into the courtyard, sparks of electricity barely flashing off. Rider’s shoulders sagged as he released the reins. The occupants of the chariot piled out, Archer counting a young girl whose skin was constantly changing color and a tiger faunus woman as new faces. And one familiar face that was conspicuously absent.

He saw the signs of what happened. Mordred furiously kicking up the courtyard grass, Jaune’s shaking hands, and most especially Blake’s broken eyes, cracked and red from crying.

Ruby eagerly ran up to Yang, but her smile died when she observed the group. “Where’s Sun?”

Archer closed his eyes and bowed his head. He had not known the young monkey faunus well, and he couldn’t say he would cry for him. But he was a good man who’d fought the good fight and paid the ultimate price for it. If only for that, Archer would mourn him.

There were too few good men in the world as it was.

 

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Blake remembered Sienna Khan well from when she was younger. The tiger faunus and her father had been good friends before the White Fang had been founded, and their friendship had been the foundation of the organization’s early years. Blake remembered sneaking downstairs past her bedtime to catch whatever glimpse she could of the meetings that she knew would one day change the world. She’d idolized the older woman, a strong, capable warrior that could laugh over drinks with her father one minute and argue over boycott logistics the next.

But, as time went on, the laughter stopped, and the arguments became about more than just logistics. As human resistance to the White Fang’s nonviolent rallies increased, Sienna advocated more and more to strike back, beat the humans at their own game. Peace, she claimed, bred complacency with the place the humans would give them in the world, the lesser animals who’d accept the scrap of an island they were graciously gifted and shut up. If they didn’t fight for themselves, they were doomed to die for themselves.

Eventually, the split became too great. Ghira stepped down in an attempt to make a statement to the growing violent elements in the Fang, that he wouldn’t be a part of such terrorism, but Sienna’s ascension to High Leader only secured the organization’s new path. And Blake had chosen Sienna. Or, she thought she had, before seeing what that path was turning Adam into, what it was turning them all into.

Once, confronting her old idol would have terrified Blake. But considering she was informing her of a magic ritual to get an omnipotent wish and an eon old war between All the World’s Evils and an ancient wizard who used to change people’s genders, it was surprisingly less stressful than she would have once thought.

Or maybe it was because other things were already occupying all the worry she had.

A fearful glance down at her new Command Seals seemed to indicate the latter.

“This is… impossible.” Sienna whispered, the usually proud woman leaning against a wall in one of the Arc sisters’ rooms. “Something like this… and yet it is.”

“Adam didn’t think you would believe him if he told you, High Leader.” Ilia, the only other person in the room explained. “It was why he asked to show you in person.”

“Well, that was certainly a wise choice on his part,” Sienna admitted. “If he had told me this right after Beacon and I hadn’t seen what I have now… he was a good man.”

Sienna looked at Blake. “And that begs the question, what do you plan to do now, Blake?”

“Now? I haven’t really thought about that yet.” Blake diverted. “I figured we’d focus on dealing with Salem.”

“A wise choice.” Sienna agreed. “The Grimm are the greatest threat to us all. If we have a chance to cut off their reproduction, to stem the endless tide, that needs to be dealt with first and foremost.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming,” Blake muttered.

Sienna’s glare flattened. “There are two wishes, Blake. Two miracles. I don’t think I need to point out just what kind of opportunity is before us. An opportunity Adam entrusted to you.”

“And you don’t think I can do it?” Blake challenged, her raging emotions seeking some kind of outlet.

“I watched you grow up, Blake. I observed every drill Adam put you through. I believe you are fully capable of claiming the Grail.” Sienna calmly declared. “My only worry is that you _won’t_.”

Blake wanted to argue with that, but there were several points against her. She had deserted after all. And even beyond that, as Weiss had pointed out, she had not even been able to go all the way in that, failing to hand over any relevant intelligence on the White Fang to the proper authorities. She had been determined to stop the organization’s terrorist activities, but her execution of that effort had been sloppy, to say the least.

A firm hand comfortably clasped Blake’s shoulder. She looked up and saw Ilia stalwartly standing beside her. The chameleon girl shot her a gleaming smile. “Blake has been working for this her entire life. There is no one better to get the respect the faunus demand.”

Sienna sighed. “I hope you are right. In the meantime, how can I be of assistance? I doubt I will be of much use in the city. Staying hidden will be quite difficult if the kingdom’s most wanted is hanging about.”

“If I may make a suggestion?”

The three women looked to the doorway. A short farm boy walked through, while a tall, green leather wearing spearman materialized next to him, a gleeful smile on his face.

“Lancer! What are you doing out of spirit form?” Ilia demanded. “The High Leader—”

“Will be perfectly fine Miss… Ilia? Correct?” Ozpin assured her. “The concealment charm is a simple thing, but it will prevent our friend her from accidentally seducing half our merry little band.”

“How useful.” Sienna dryly remarked. She raised an eyebrow at the apparent boy before her. “You certainly look different from the last time I saw you, Ozpin.”

“Indeed, Sienna. When was that? The Vale rally two years before Ghira’s abdication?”

“No, I was handling matters back in Vacuo then. It was the Vytal Festival the year before.”

“Ah yes. You danced with James at the closing ceremonies banquet.” the headmaster inside the little boy recalled. “How fortunate I still had my old form then. I don’t believe Oscar has much talent for dancing.”

Sienna briefly looked disturbed at the wizard’s current situation. “You mentioned a suggestion?”

“Yes,” Ozpin confirmed. “If this war is to follow a similar path to the previous one, its final stages will likely take place in the Grimmlands, Salem’s stronghold and the birthplace of all Grimm.”

Blake gulped in terror. She’d known that Salem’s Reality Marble existed, but she’d hoped to stay as far away as possible until they’d used the Grail to annihilate it. To learn that they’d have to go there, to essentially walk into hell… it was a bit of a wakeup call.

“As it’s title and function imply, it is filled with Grimm.” Ozpin continued. “Last time, we were lucky, but this time Salem is likely to support her Servants with hordes of her most powerful monsters. Our Heroic Spirits are valiant, but numbers are a potent force and they will already have the Alters to deal with. We will need an army to support us, take care of the Grimm so we can take care of Salem.”

“Cannon fodder.” Sienna glumly surmised. “And you want the White Fang to be this army?”

“I hope to get additional support from Atlas, but essentially, yes,” Ozpin confessed. “I understand what I am asking. But we need every soul we can get for this battle, or there will be none after. If Salem claims the Grail, everyone on Remnant, human or faunus, will burn.”

“So you have said.” Sienna, sighed, reluctant agreement evident in her breathes. “Give me the coordinates for the Grimmlands. I’ll have the big man with the chariot get me out of the city and then meet up with whoever survived the mess at HQ at the rendezvous point. We’ll head to Menagerie and mobilize our forces where you need us.”

Ozpin smiled. “Thank you, Sienna.”

“You better be right about this Ozpin.” the tiger Faunus threatened. “I will not sacrifice my people for a farce.”

The two leaders walked out of the room. As Sienna passed through the door, she gave Lancer a once over.

“I’ve seen better.”

She exited the room. Blake didn’t think she’d ever seen a more honest, thrilled, or just plain relieved expression than the smile that blossomed over Lancer’s face.

When the door closed behind Ozpin and Sienna, Lancer turned to the Faunus in the room. “Lady Ilia, Lady Blake, how are you?”

Ilia shrugged glumly. “About as good as can be expected. What happened to Adam…”

Lancer nodded, a guilty frown consuming him. “I am sorry. I should have done more, done something to save him.”

“Don’t say that!” Blake exclaimed. “There was nothing you could have done. What Adam did… he did it so we could live.”

And wasn’t that the crux of her turmoil. Adam had been her best friend, her teacher, her first love. And then he’d turned into a monster. She’d been sure of it. But after she left the White Fang, she didn’t know what happened, but he’d changed. It was slight, he didn’t suddenly become the white knight she’d always dreamed of, but it was crucial. She believed… she believed his wish for the Grail really had been for equality. He’d wanted to make the world a better place, not watch it burn down around him.

Perhaps he was still only the lesser of two evils, but he was trying to be better. And whether through Lancer, or Ilia, or the Grail, he had been getting better. Enough to do something she couldn’t deny was truly heroic.

Sun had helped her see that. The cheerful monkey boy that had helped her reconcile with her team so long ago had shown her that her old friend could be their ally, if only by necessity. He’d always done that, even when he’d barely known her, he supported her, helped her work through her issues, and generally just been a ball of sunshine in her admittedly dour mind. Perhaps some of it was driven by a crush, but he was her friend. And he was a really good one.

Now… now he was gone. He’d given his life to save Jaune, because why would the idiot do any less for his friend?

Two of the biggest figures in her life, one so very old and one all too new, were gone. And she needed at least one of them more than ever.

Lancer smiled gratefully at Blake. “Thank you for your kind words, my lady. Or, I suppose now, master.”

Butterflies fluttered all about Blake’s stomach. A blush ignited across her face.

Stupid curse!

Still, he was handsome and as gentlemanly as a knight should be…

No!

Well, yes, but she shouldn’t be obsessing over it! How long did Ozpin say it would take for him to cycle the effects out of her?

“However.” Lancer continued. “Though I will gladly protect you and obey your commands with all my ability, my oath to Master Adam still stands. I swore to be his spear and he entrusted me with his dream. On my honor as a knight, I must see it through. If you do not desire to use the Grail for the salvation of the faunus, that is fine. But I must use my wish to bring equality to this world.”

And just like that, Blake was sold. Green leather or not, this was a knight in shining armor, straight out of one of Ruby’s storybooks. His cause was just, and his words were earnest and elegant. She would help him. Adam had sacrificed himself to save her, to convince her that the dream they once shared was still alive and now, finally, was truly within their grasp.

“I understand, Lancer,” she replied. “I promise, I will fight by your side to claim the Grail.”

“We both will.” Ilia grinned.

Lancer knelt before them. “I thank you both. Truly, I have been blessed in this war. To know the noblest masters I have ever had the honor to serve.”

Blake felt a bashful smile come to her face even as her insides churned. What was she doing? Sure, there was no problem with going after the Grail, getting it before Salem was their main objective, but the second wish? She knew the turmoil Ruby, Jaune, and Yang were going through over that. Ruby and Yang needed to save their dad, and Jaune was helping Mordred get her wish. They were her friends, who stood by her even after they’d found out she used to be White Fang. Could she really throw her hat in the ring?

But Adam had saved Yang at Beacon, and Sun had given his life to protect Jaune. Surely, the others wouldn’t want their sacrifices to be in vain, to not have a lasting impact on the world? To save millions from untold pain and oppression?

ARGH!!! It wasn’t a debt system! They would all die for each other, that didn’t give them the right to circumvent each other!

But still… it was the salvation of an entire race against the wishes of a few people. And Lancer was determined to achieve it, to honor his oath to Adam.

She had to—She had to do—

She had to talk to Yang. Maybe after her partner dropped Sienna off, she could help her sort out her head before her emotions made her do something stupid.

 

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Darius roared as he smashed the scattered remnants of the camp. The broken fragments of the empty palisade went flying into the air.

A Seer Grimm flew up to him. His handler, the thin man known as Watts, appeared in its dark globe.

“Report.”

Darius snarled. The nerve of this man. No matter his value to the Queen, how dare he show such insolence to a king! Perhaps he would not find it so aggravating if the fool had let him go after Iskandar, but instead, Saber Alter was the one to encounter the King of Conquerors, while he was given false information and sent after mere bandits.

“They weren’t here,” he informed the handler. “There are signs that this was their campsite, but they had long left by the time I arrived.”

“They knew we were coming.” Watts mused. “Troubling.”

“Do you wish me to search the forest?”

“No. Raven Branwen might have warned her tribe, but she never would have stayed in the area. If anything, she has joined us in Mistral, waiting for our forces to clash with Ozpin’s so she can pick off the survivors.”

Darius scoffed. “A coward’s tactic.”

Warriors did not hide and scavenge like vultures. They clashed their spirits head on, to prove their dominance. It was why he was so determined to face Iskandar. A king who invaded the largest empire the world had ever known with an army a tenth of its own and was able to preserve to victory? He had clashed with that indomitable spirit many times and yet was denied his glorious conclusion. Now that he had a second chance, he would not leave without seeing if he could surpass the King of Conquerors.

“Raven Branwen is more slippery than most. For now, we should focus on the enemies we can find.” Watts decided. “Saber Alter was able to identify both the Saber and Lancer Servant of the war, both of whom are allied with Ozpin’s faction. That means his group now controls more than half the regular Servants of the war.”

“And still they hide like rats in the sewer,” Darius muttered. “Iskandar’s master holds him back from facing me.”

Watts rolled his eyes. “I doubt that is their specific intent, but you do have a point. Their group seems to have fled the safe house Leonardo thought they were staying in, meaning they could be anywhere. They likely did not stray too far from Haven, but Mistral is not a small city.”

“We should declare a challenge,” Darius suggested. “Let ourselves be known and have them come to us.”

“And give them time to formulate a strategy? No wonder you lost an empire.”

The former emperor of Persia snarled. How dare this impudent little…

**Shush… He means no offense. He still holds us in reverence.**

Darius scoffed to the side. The Queen’s words soothed him, but that did not make his handler anymore irritating.

“Still, the idea has merit.” Watts decided, stroking his mustache. “After all, from what we know about our opposing Servants and masters, they all consider themselves heroes of the truest sense. And there is one surefire way to draw a hero in.”

Darius frowned. He had a feeling he wouldn’t care for where this was going.

“Slaughter of the innocent, without mercy or compromise.”

“You would have me waste my time slaughtering _civilians_?” Darius mocked. “I came here to clash with lions, not step on ants.”

“Calm yourself, Rider Alter. Holding the specter over their heads will be quite sufficient.” Watts assured him. “Hazel and Saber Alter will be arriving at Mistral’s walls soon enough. They will assist you. In the meantime, march on the city. Make sure you are seen. If you do that, you’ll be sure to get a battle soon enough. Maybe even with the King of Conquerors.”

The smug scientist’s face faded from the Seer Grimm. The floating oculus wisely shifted away rather quickly.

Darius growled as the demon sped away, but his handler had not been wrong. His strategy had quite the chance of drawing out the enemy. And if Iskandar had become so cowardly that he would not face him to defend a city he had taken residence in, perhaps his Macedonian rival was no longer worth his time.

But if he came, if he proved himself still the man that Darius wanted to clash with more than life itself, than it would be a battle that would ring throughout the hallowed halls of history.

The Last Emperor of the Achaemenid Empire spread his hands, his palms lighting with a furious emerald blaze. The spirits of his loyal soldiers stirred beneath the thin graves of the world, the gates of all manner of underworlds shattering as the immortals rose again, answering the only worthwhile call their king ever gave them. To arms.

To war.

“ **Athanaton Ten Thousand.** ”

To conquest.

 

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Ozpin sighed, his fourth mug of badly needed coffee disappearing down his throat.

 _“Things aren’t that bad? We’ve got Lancer now, that’s a plus?”_ Oscar desperately inquired inside his mind. _“Sun didn’t… he didn’t die in vain, did he?_ ”

“No, Mr. Wukong did us a great service. His sacrifice has helped us greatly.” Ozpin assured his companion. “But…”

He couldn’t even talk about it. For an eon, he’d trained huntsmen, heroes all. Brilliant young men and women from every race and walk of life who just wanted to help and protect their fellows. More than once, far more than he wished, he’d had to send them to their deaths for the sake of all. And every time he’d wonder if he was even doing anything but prolonging the inevitable, if Salem’s consumption of the world could not be stopped, if he was just prolonging mankind’s suffering by not letting it just die already.

And every time, he’d look around and see people. Average, everyday people living their lives with smiles on their faces, with no idea of the darkness that hung over their existence. He’d seen their hope, their joy. And he knew there would be more. Perhaps they’d miss their shot at the Grail, perhaps there was no way to destroy Salem. But he’d be damned if he let that happiness, that simple, innocent, honest _happiness_ last one moment less than it could.

Still, despite his perseverance, he had made many mistakes, more than one of which had come back to haunt him.

 _“Saber Alter? Are you blaming yourself for her?”_ Oscar inquired.

Ozpin sighed. _‘It is my fault. Even if you disregard how I guided her in her first life, I was the one who chose to let Mr. Arc into Beacon despite his false transcripts. As soon as I saw his mother’s name and then looked up a picture, all I could imagine was Arturia’s second coming. I thought I had the makings of a champion the likes of which Remnant had not seen before. With him and Ms. Rose, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this generation would be the last to ever need huntsmen. I was a fool. An overeager fool who failed to learn from his mistakes. And because of that, Arturia came to get him and found herself in the blast radius of Ms. Rose’s eyes. Now she is corrupted and bound to All the World’s Evils, and her own children have to put her down.”_

 _“You had hope. The first hope you’d had in who knows how long.”_ Oscar comforted him. _“That’s not a sin.”_

Ozpin smiled balefully. He was grateful for the boy’s attempts to cheer him up, but there really wasn’t anything to be done. Over the ages, he’d heard many stories, been in quite a few of them. In almost all of them, the hero would gain some guide, a mentor, who would tutor them on their path and teach them their art. And, on that path, somewhere, the mentor would fall. The hero would grieve, they would mourn, but they would move on, stronger and more brilliant than ever before.

What kind of mentor watched all his heroes die, or fall to corruption in turn?

“Oz?”

The wizard looked up as Qrow entered the common room, a flask in hand. His loyal friend nodded and sat down across from him. For a moment, the two just sat there in silence, letting the simple fact that they’d lost one of the children under their care sink in.

But they needed to move forward. If not, many more children would follow Sun to the grave.

“So, what’s our next move?”

Ozpin rubbed his forehead in thought. “Hazel will have informed the rest of Salem’s forces about what has happened. They will likely have guessed Lancer has joined our side, but they have no way of knowing who his new master is, giving us a slight advantage. But with more than half the war’s Servants under our control, I fear we have become too tempting a target. Regardless if they have found Raven yet, they will seek to draw us out.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Unfortunately, we have little knowledge of the enemy’s movements.”

Suddenly, a familiar crimson portal opened up beside Qrow. Both he and Ozpin leapt to their feet, weapons out and at the ready.

Raven stepped out of the swirling vortex of energy. She observed their combat stances and smirked.

“Not happy to see me?”

“What are you doing here, Raven?” Qrow scowled.

“Believe it or not, to join forces.” the Spring Maiden declared. “We have a common enemy, and I for one cannot stand a cowardly lion.”

“Maybe shouldn’t have been one.”

“Qrow,” Ozpin said sharply. He didn’t particularly like Raven at the moment either, what with the whole ‘turning on him’ thing, but they had enough problems without poking the Ursa. And besides, with Salem in control of Caster and two Alters, or maybe more, and Gilgamesh in the city, they didn’t have the luxury of being picky. Despite Raven’s fall from grace, with Adam Taurus’ death, she had become the least evil of their foes. And that made her, unfortunately, alliance material. Or at least worth hearing out.

He glared at his ex-ally. “What do you have in mind?”


	56. Lost Treasure

Nicholas Arc sagged back onto his bed. “Jaune… Jaune are you sure?”

“It could have been a fake.” Sapphire proposed. “Archer mentioned that a lot of Servants look like mom for some reason. Maybe it was one of them.”

“Then how would she know Jaune and Mordred?” Coral sullenly pointed out. Her shoulders were slumped in despair like the rest of them, but her mind was sharp as always. “It couldn’t even be a version of her from another timeline. That one would know Mordred, but it’s unlikely she would know Jaune.”

Sable frowned, her eyes wet with tears. “Then… she’s back? She’s alive?”

“No, she is not.” Mordred declared with an air of finality. “That… pretender was not the King of Knights.”

Jaune didn’t even have the heart to point out that every single person Mordred had declared a pretender since coming to Remnant had turned out to be the real thing.

He, his Servant, his father, and his three oldest sisters had consolidated in his dad’s room, Sable having only just returned from work. He’d thought it best to inform them privately of what exactly had occurred at the White Fang’s Headquarters. Yang and Blake had no doubt told Ruby, Ozpin, and the others, but he wanted to get the opinion of the rest of his family before he informed his younger sisters (and Jade and Hazel, because once they knew there would be no keeping it secret). He hadn’t expected the news that mom had been revived as Salem’s minion to go over well.

For once, he was quite correct.

Sable desperately turned to him. “Isn’t there some way we can get her back? Can’t we… I don’t know… uncorrupt her or something? Is that a thing?”

Jaune wasn’t even sure how to respond. His mind had been whirling since he’d had time to process the events from the mountain. He was down to his last Command Seal, but that was insignificant compared to their other loss.

Sun was dead. He had sacrificed himself. To save him from his _mom_.

His mother had killed his friend while trying to kill him.

His friend was dead.

But it wasn’t his fault.

It was his responsibility though. He would make sure Sun’s death wasn’t in vain. He would stop Salem and destroy the Grimm.

He had to.

And that meant finding a way to save his mom had to be put on the backburner. He would keep his eyes open, but it couldn’t be his focus. He was a huntsman first, and that meant the people he had sworn to protect came first. Sun had known that, even trying to save Jacques Schnee of all people, not because the man was at all a good person, but because huntsmen were sworn to save whoever they could. It wasn’t justice if it didn’t apply to everyone.

But if his mom was now present, that meant that he wouldn’t have to mess with time to bring her back. Pyrrha was still lost to him, but if he could find a way to purify Saber Alter, he could bring his mother back to life. But with Ozpin and Archer both clueless about how one was to go about exercising Salem’s corruption, that meant only a miracle could save The King of Knights.

Fortunately, one of those was still within his grasp. That was, if he could convince Mordred to help him.

Which given his opinion on the matter, was not likely going to be easy.

“There can be no uncorrupting because that Servant is not father!” Mordred shouted. “Father would never sink so low. The King of Knights could not be tainted by such a disgusting infection.”

“I’m not so sure.” Nicholas sighed. “Arturia once told me about how she arrived on Remnant. She was pulled through a mass of black mud that came from the grail, this Salem’s previous form I think. She said that the only reason it didn’t change her more then was because Gilgamesh was in it with her and the darkness was focusing all its power on him.”

Mordred scowled. “Father is too humble. If All the World’s Evils could not overcome the King of Heroes then it wouldn’t be able to even scratch him. It would never be able to make him like… like that witch.”

Jaune got the feeling he wasn’t referring to Caster. “Mordred…”

“Shut up.”

“No, Mordred, I’m not going to let you—”

“Shut up, master! There’s a new Servant in the motel!”

“What?” Jaune exclaimed. “Are you sure it’s not just Rider? Back from dropping off Sienna Khan?”

“Not even the Gordius Wheel could get out of the city and back so quickly,” Mordred argued. Crimson sparks flashed and Clarent appeared. “All of you, stay behind me. It could be anyone.”

That was putting it lightly. None of the other factions should have known where they were, but if either Salem’s group or Kirei had managed to track them down, that meant they were about to fight either Lancer Alter or Gilgamesh, neither of which they were prepared for.

Jaune raised his sword, ready for action. “Dad, get the rest of the girls and keep them in here. We’ll handle—”

A knock at the door cut him off. He and Mordred exchanged confused glances before his Servant went forward and tugged open the door.

A very unhappy Archer stood in the doorway, his face set in a frown of enormous dissatisfaction, even for him.

“Mr. Arc, find the rest of your children and hide in here.” he succinctly ordered. “Jaune, Saber… you’re going to want to see this.”

 

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You know, when he wasn’t being a rampaging rage monster trying to kill her and her friends, Ruby thought Berserker actually looked kind of cool. Like some barbarian adventurer from a bygone age, strong enough to fell even the mightiest of Grimm before humanity ever conceived of aura. Bulging with muscle and being tall enough to scrape the motel ceiling even when slouching certainly didn’t hurt the image.

Archer had mentioned that his name was Hercules, apparently one of the oldest and most legendary heroes from before the world became Remnant. That alone plus her previous encounter would have been enough to put Ruby on edge but seeing the reactions of the other Servants sold her terror. Archer didn’t have Kanshou and Bakuya out for fear of provoking him, but his hands were certainly clenching enough to let Ruby know he wished he had. Mordred and Lancer were both on guard as well, their terrified gazes locked on the Servant of Madness.

All this just made Raven’s smirk grow and Ruby even more grateful that Yang had gone with Rider to drop off Sienna Khan.

_‘Archer, if a fight breaks out, what are our chances?’_

_“Better than they could be, but not good enough to seek a brawl,”_ he advised. _“Based on Ozpin’s account of the maiden powers, Berserker has more than likely regenerated whatever lives we took from him in our last encounter. His Godhand renders him invincible to anything less than Rank A and grants him resistance to anything that does manage to hurt him, which limits our options quite a bit. And that’s assuming Raven doesn’t summon Lancelot to help. With myself, Saber, and Lancer all present, we might still be able to pull out a victory regardless, but I doubt it would be without a price.”_

_‘And with Salem and Gilgamesh ahead of us, I’m guessing we can’t afford to pay it?’_

_“Correct, master. Both you and Jaune are down to your last Command Seal, and while Lancer might be able to handle Lancelot, his Noble Phantasms can’t hurt Hercules. For now, we should see what Raven has in mind.”_

_‘Huh. You know, if Yang were here…’_

_“Let’s be thankful she isn’t. Luck may be on our side for once.”_

Ruby wasn’t sure how true that was. While it was good that Yang wasn’t present to act on her extremely justified grudge against her biological mother and possibly start a fight they couldn’t afford, she couldn’t help but think that Rider’s powerful, charismatic presence would be helpful, whether or not the proceedings turned violent.

Nonetheless, with the exception of those two, the entirety of their team, even Blake’s chameleon friend Ilia, had assembled in one of the motel’s common rooms. All of them were on their feet, not comfortable enough to sit in the presence of the other party.

Raven mirrored their position, proving that despite her cocky smirk, she was not wholly arrogant about being so vastly outnumbered, even if she did have Berserker to protect her. She cocked an eyebrow at Lancer and Ilia.

“I notice a surprise lack of horns among your party,” she noted.

Lancer solemnly bowed his head. “Master Adam sacrificed his life to allow the rest of us to escape our enemies. Lady Blake now holds my Command Seals.”

“So, I see.” the bandit remarked. “Should have expected so much from the idiot.”

“You don’t get to insult him,” Ilia shouted. “Adam took down an enemy that could paralyze Servants. He would have annihilated _you._ That is if you ever had the courage to stick around and fight.”

“Paralyze a Ser—Hazel? Adam died going after Hazel Rainart?” Raven chuckled. “Hate to tell you this, little lizard, but he ain’t dead. Especially not to Adam.”

Ilia and Lancer’s eyes widened.

Raven looked to Ozpin and Qrow. “You didn’t tell them?”

Qrow growled. “There’s a lot to cover.”

“Enough with these games, Raven.” Ozpin cut in. “What do you want?”

Raven smirked. “I assume since you’ve left the safe house that you know that Lionheart has betrayed you? Well, a Salem controlled Haven is good for no one. Especially me since _someone_ told them I’m the new Spring Maiden.”

“If you didn’t want the job, you shouldn’t have killed the teenager.” Qrow scowled.

That got a reaction. It was subtle, but Ruby noticed that Raven’s grip tightened around her sword hilt.

“They sent a Servant after my tribe, some Rider Alter. If I hadn’t given them fair warning, they would have been slaughtered.”

“What do you want, an apology?” Qrow snarled.

“Qrow.” Ozpin tempered, holding out his hand. He turned back to Raven. “How did you learn of this, Raven?”

“What was it you said when you inflicted our powers upon us? ‘The Grimm can’t sense animals and humans pay no mind to the bird in the window’.” Raven recited. “It wasn’t too difficult. But it’s only a matter of time before my luck runs out and they track me down to make me an offer I can’t refuse. I wish to strike before they get that chance, but I don’t want to press my luck against Caster and those two black Servants.”

“Three.”

“What?”

“Those black Servants, the Alters, there’s three of them.” Ruby proclaimed. “At least that we’ve all encountered so far. You said they have a Rider Alter and we’ve fought Lancer Alter and Saber Alter.”

Another reminder of her failure at Beacon. She’d nearly been crushed by the guilt that she’d felt for what her eyes did to Arturia, but now to learn what had happened to her as a consequence? To know that Salem had summoned her to be her twisted black knight and slaughter her own children? If Jaune and Archer hadn’t already worked it into her that what happened at the Fall wasn’t her fault…

…

…

…

It was probably best that Archer had had Crescent Rose when she’d gotten the news.

“Lovely.” Raven dryly remarked. “My Berserkers are strong, but there is something off about these… Alters. Fighting them alone would be foolish. I propose that we join forces to remove Lionheart from his post and drive Salem out of Mistral. Afterwards, I will open the Vault of the Spring Maiden, and you can take the Relic of Knowledge to safety in Atlas, which should reduce my priority on Salem’s hit list.”

“And leave the Relic vulnerable,” Ozpin observed.

“Better to be in the most fortified kingdom in the world than one whose huntsmen are all dead.” Raven countered. “Besides, regardless of whether Salem captures me, their Caster has been hard at work circumventing the Vault’s enchantment. I don’t know how skilled she is, but if she made it into the Throne, I doubt she’s all bark and no bite.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Archer stated. “Medea was a first-rate sorceress in her own time and that was the Age of Gods.”

Berserker shifted, his glowing red eye locking on Archer.

Raven raised an eyebrow at her Servant’s movement. “Medea, you say?”

“She and your Servant knew each other in life,” Archer revealed. “She and Hercules served on the same boat.”

“Will wonders never cease.” the bandit snarked. Her smile turned warm as she looked at her Servant. “Hercules? So that’s your name? It suits you.”

“Moving on.” Mordred pressed. “Can this witch really break through the vault?”

“Perhaps,” Ozpin confessed. “The Witch of Betrayal is a powerful and insightful mage. With the strength of a Servant and Salem behind her, she could conceivably find a way. It would take her months, maybe even years, but she could do it.”

“Or surprise us entirely and stumble upon the answer tomorrow.” Jaune pointed out. “If there’s one thing I’ve seen about magic, it’s that it is completely unpredictable. But even if we do get the Relic, how are we going to get it to Atlas? They’ve closed their borders.”

“Come now, boy, do you really think he would ever leave himself without a backdoor into every kingdom?” Raven laughed, gesturing to Ozpin. “All of us have a code that we can give to any kingdom’s officials and it will call down the country’s headmaster to sort things out.”

“Yours has since been revoked,” Ozpin interjected.

“It’s especially handy in Atlas where Ironwood is essentially king. But I’m sure he wants to get there as soon as possible since his tin puppet seems to be acting a bit less frugally with the Relic of Creation then he would like, at least if the Vytal Festival was anything to go by.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. The Vytal Festival? What the heck did that have to do with the Relic of Creation?

“Okay, we get it. Ozpin’s done some shady stuff.” Nora grunted. “So, what’s the actual plan for this fight? Get all our Servants together and bum rush them?”

“That would be unwise,” Archer advised. “If we all go, the Arc family will be left unguarded.”

“That’s your main concern?” Raven demanded, stupefied. “There’s a war on. What could possibly be putting them in such danger that they’d require a constant guard?”

“Gilgamesh.”

Raven’s face froze.

“He’s in the city.” Archer continued. “Given time, he will eventually track us down and since he feels unhealthily possessive over Jaune’s mother he will be quite vicious if he locates the rest of her children.”

Ruby shuddered at that. Despite Archer’s assurances that he could handle the King of Heroes, she couldn’t help but remember the complete domination he had wielded during the Fall. Even Arturia, who they had all just received a brutal reminder of the strength of, had been completely powerless against him.

Apparently, Raven was not unaware of that fact either. “Very well. I suppose a guard is necessary.”

_‘Archer, did she just agree to that way too quickly?’_

_“Very much so. She hopes that our presence with the Arc siblings will be enough to occupy Gilgamesh should he discover our location. At least until the operation is complete and she can flee the city herself before he learns she is still alive.”_

_‘But he already knows she’s alive. Yang told him.’_

_“Yes. But she doesn’t know that.”_

Ruby frowned. Raven was trying to use them as a distraction so that Gilgamesh wouldn’t find her, but she was unaware of the danger she was really in. The moral thing to do would be to tell her, let her know that she was vulnerable. Except that the moment she knew that Gilgamesh was in the city _and_ knew she was alive, she would high tail it out of Mistral before any of them could blink. And that meant no Berserkers to provide badly needed muscle against the Alters.

Ruby hated herself, but if they couldn’t overpower Salem’s forces, all of Remnant would be destroyed. She didn’t hate her aunt, but if it was a choice of alerting her to the danger or saving the world… she had to choose the world.

Besides, Archer said he could handle Gilgamesh.

He could handle him.

…

…

…

He _could_ handle him.

“Saber and Archer should be sufficient to hold off any assault here.” Ozpin supposed. “Ruby and Jaune should likely stay as well, seeing as they are both low on Command Seals. Nora and Ren should likely do the same to assist in getting the family to safety if something does happen.”

Ren nodded stoically. “We can do that.”

“Yeah!” Nora cheered. “No one is touching Jaune and Mor-Mor’s sisters while we’re around.”

She and Mordred high fived.

“So that leaves Lancer, my Berserkers, Rider, Yang, Oz, Qrow, the cat girl, the chameleon, Vernal and me for the assault.” Raven counted.

Qrow cocked an eyebrow. “Who the hell’s Vernal?”

“Her lieutenant,” Ilia explained. “We fought her at Oniyuri. She’s a bitch.”

“Who you needed to fight four on one to beat.” Raven snipped, surprisingly defensive of her tribeswoman. “You’ll need to give Lionheart a reason why you’re coming to see him that won’t arouse his suspicion. Such as, my mind finally breaking under the strain of two Madness Enchantments and one of my followers selling me out for fear of where my insanity will take them. Hypothetically speaking of course.”

“Of course.” Ozpin snarked. “Our opposition?”

“If we strike now, before Rider Alter and the team you encountered at White Fang HQ can return, not too heavy,” Raven promised. “On the Servant side, there’s Lancer Alter and Caster. I don’t suppose you managed to discover the former’s identity as well?”

“His name is Cú Chulainn,” Archer revealed nonchalantly. He pointed to Lancer. “Basically, he’s his country version…” he gestured to Hercules, “… of him.”

Lancer’s eyes went wide. “The Hound of Chulainn fights for our enemies?”

“Yes and he’s got a power boost. As if the annoying bastard needed it.”

“They always do.” Raven sighed. “Alright, as for everyone else, there’s obviously Lionheart himself, some green-haired girl—”

“Emerald,” Blake growled. “She was Cinder’s teammate back at Beacon. She kidnapped Weiss so that Salem could… _corrupt_ her.”

“Wait, Weiss Schnee!?” Ilia exclaimed. “She’s with Salem?”

“Not by her own free will.” Jaune defended. “Salem captured her and turned her into an Alter, just like my mom. Weiss would never work for her willingly.”

Ruby’s hands clenched in fury. Along with Kirei, she had considered Emerald one of her best friends on Team CKSM. And just like Kirei, she had betrayed her, only instead of nearly killing Yang, Emerald had sold Weiss to Salem. Now her partner was trapped fighting for the forces of evil and it was all the green-haired girl’s fault.

Raven’s face curled in horror. “Well… that explains what she was doing with them. She and Lancer Alter seem to spend a great deal of time together, so that could be a problem if you all aren’t willing to go all out against her.”

“We’ll make do.” Qrow insisted, noting the conflicted expressions on all the kids but Ilia. “We can handle the evil mini Ice Queen. Is there anyone else we need to worry about?”

“One. He’s a tall man dressed in a fine suit with a mustache. I think the others called him Watts. Ring any bells?”

“A few,” Ozpin confirmed. “Dr. Arthur Watts was a prominent Atlesian Scientist who fell out of favor when he was discovered practicing illegal experimentation on unwilling subjects. There were rumors that he had been looking into the Grail so Summer and I tried to track him down during the last war.”

“And now he’s joined up with Salem.” Jaune flatly observed. “Of course he has.”

“Eh.” Nora shrugged. “Mad scientist was the only evil archetype they were missing anyway.”

“If that’s everything, we should set out immediately,” Raven suggested. “We shouldn’t give them the chance to fortify.”

Ozpin frowned. “Yang and Rider are still dropping off Sienna Khan.”

“Then call them, tell them about the plan, and head out. Rider is the fastest of any of the Servants, he can be the cavalry.” Raven insisted. “We need to move now, or we will lose our chance.”

“You mean Gilgamesh might find you,” Ruby replied evenly. She gazed calmly at the bandit leader even as crimson eyes glared back at her. “It’s true, don’t try to deny it. Is that why you stayed away all these years? To make it harder to find you?”

Raven scoffed. “The thing about the Tribe, as well known as we are, no one really knows much about us. My name strikes fear into the countryside, but no one knows what I look like.”

She tapped the elaborate Grimm mask at her waist. “This mask spreads my reputation with it wherever it goes, but anyone could be under it. ‘Raven Branwen’ is a ghost, a boogeyman, at least according to those outside the know. Even if the whispers did reach Gilgamesh’s ears, he would quickly discard them as a fool trying to take advantage of my name. After all, he already killed me.”

“A certified huntress on the other hand.” she scowled. “That is a matter of public record. If I had gone back to active duty, Gilgamesh would have hunted me down like he did Summer.”

“Which he wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t dragged her into robbing him,” Qrow shouted. “What were you thinking, Raven? You got her killed!”

“You think I wanted to!?!” Raven yelled back, her eyes lighting with literal fire. “I made a mistake. But at least I was doing something!” She thrust her hand towards Ozpin. “What would you have done? Listened to the fool who’s been _failing_ for as long as the moon’s been shattered? To just wait around and hope that something would come around to stop Salem from killing us all? To pray for a miracle while sending generation after generation after generation to _die?_ To send _Yang_ to die? There are no miracles! Not unless you make them when the opportunity comes, which I did.”

“Then why isn’t Salem dead yet?” Qrow countered. “Where’s this amazing miracle you made?”

Raven looked away. The fire disappeared from her around her eyes. “Like I said, I made a mistake. I overestimated Lancelot, but everything is still going according to plan.”

“According to plan? Was trying to kill me part of the plan? Was leaving Tai to die?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Qrow. I didn’t want any of that to happen.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?” Qrow roared.

Ruby gulped. She’d never seen her uncle so furious, even when dad had thrown out his flask. He was letting a lot out, stuff that seemed to have been piling up for a while. Even Mordred and Archer took a step back.

“You don’t tell us anything, Rae! You left without a word! You had the Spring Maiden and instead of letting us know, you killed her! Now you come here and talk about some secret plan you’ve apparently had going for a decade and a half and refuse to let us know the first thing about it, other than you’ve pissed off one of the most powerful beings on the planet! You moan about Oz keeping secrets a lot, but you’re not exactly a star communicator either. At least he’s upfront about it.”

“Qrow.” Ozpin cut in. “That’s enough. This isn’t helping.”

Reluctantly, Uncle Qrow shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back, scowling at his sister all the way.

“Raven.” The former headmaster spoke softly. “If you are so confident in this plan of yours, why not just help us? Let us join forces, truly, instead of bargaining piecemeal like this.”

“I thought that would be obvious.” the bandit leader confessed. “I have my own wish for the Grail.”

“What?” Ruby asked. She stepped forward, Raven immediately looking away from her. “If you’ve got this secret plan to destroy Salem then fine. That’s great. But Yang told me about what you said in Vale. You’re going to let dad die so that you can wish for something that you say he’d support. What is it? If you’ve already got a way to stop Salem, what could you possibly wish for?”

“Summer.”

Ruby felt like a cannon had just shot her in the gut. Her eyes widened in shock.

She… she wanted to bring back… she… she… she…

“No.” the red hooded girl refuted. “No, that’s… you can’t do that. Mom’s gone. She’s dead. We can’t bring her back without changing the past and that risks the entire world. She’d never want that.”

“She wanted to live,” Raven replied softly. “She wanted to save everyone, to be a hero. It took us… it took us so long to break through to her. Do you remember, Qrow? How she’d jump into danger without a second thought, no matter who was best suited? We helped her. We convinced her to live for more, for the moment, just like she helped us to be better. She wanted to raise a family, with all of us. But I needed her help and for that, she got dragged into—”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Raven stopped. She stared at Ruby, confused. “What?”

Ruby couldn’t help it. She knew exactly what had been running through Raven’s head for the past two decades. It was the same thing that had run through her own mind after her mistakes had led to Pyrrha and Arturia’s deaths at the Fall of Beacon. The same thing that had plagued Jaune from that very same night. But while she had had Archer to snap her out of it, and they had both helped Jaune in turn understand, Raven had kept her self-loathing to herself, hidden away in the darkest corner of the world. She hadn’t known another Holy Grail War would happen, that the chance to bring back Summer would ever come, so she’d thought she’d killed her best friend and destroyed her family’s life.

“We can’t risk it.” the reaper declared. “I love my mom, but we’re huntresses. So was she. And that means we can’t risk innocent people for own ends. And this plan of yours risks the entire world. You know that. The only reason you’re even considering it is because you’re desperate to escape your own guilt. But what’s done is done, there is no going back. But that doesn’t mean there’s no fixing things. Work with us. Tell us this plan that you two set in motion and maybe we can figure out how to stop Salem, Gilgamesh, and protect everyone who’s still alive. Let’s be a family again, all of us.”

For a moment, tears seemed to sprout in Raven’s eyes, regret and consideration facing across her face. Unfortunately, she closed her fists, shook her head, and the moment disappeared. “You really are just like her. But I’ve come too far.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try to walk back.”

“Ha!” Raven laughed, but it wasn’t smug or haughty like her previous ones had been. This one just sounded… tired. “Oz, how have you done it? An eon dealing with simple souls like this you just won’t stop being kind. How have you kept doing what you needed to do?”

Ozpin frowned sadly at his former pupil, a look of supreme empathy in his eyes. “I keep them close. And they keep me from straying too far. Ms. Rose is right though, Raven. We face oblivion. Now is not the time to be divided. What did you and Summer steal from Gilgamesh?”

Raven swiftly wrenched her gaze away from Ruby, her eyes guiltily falling to her massive scabbard. “Oz, the more people who know, the more he’ll go after to find it.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Qrow spat. He whirled on Oz. “Why are we even entertaining this? She’s just going to keep spinning us in circles.”

“When you walked out of our last meeting, before you left for the first time,” Ozpin mused. “You said you were going to win my war for me.”

“No.”

Ruby whirled around to Archer, as did everyone in the room. Gone was her Servant’s calm, cool, analytical mask. Now, his steel gray eyes were wide with disbelief and his jaw had practically dropped to the floor.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no!” he exclaimed, complete disbelief echoing out with every word. “You didn’t. There’s no way. No one could possibly do that.”

“Do what?” Jaune asked. “Is this one of those things that everyone’s already figured out and I’m just slow?”

Nora shrugged. “Maybe? I’ve got no clue. Ren?”

“Nothing.”

“There is one thing…” Ozpin’s eyes widened and his body spasmed. His dumbfounded stare latched onto Raven, not even glancing at the coffee mug he’d just sent plummeting to the floor. “Are you insane?”

Raven sighed. She whipped out her sword and slashed a portal in the air. “Like I said, I made a mistake. I overestimated Lancelot’s Knight of Owner. Vernal will be here within the hour. I’ll head to Haven to await your arrival.”

Ozpin held out his hand. “Raven, wait—”

Too late. The bandit leader leapt through the swirling black and red gateway and disappeared, Hercules dissipating right after. A moment later and the portal evaporated.

Ozpin sank back in his leather chair, sweat racing down his brow. “What was she thinking? I knew she was desperate but how could she risk evoking his wrath to such an extent?”

“How could she do it at all?” Archer wondered, racing for breath himself. “He almost never takes it out and I can’t imagine them pushing him enough to use it. Did they go into the Gate? How did they get out? How? _How_?”

“Um, Jester, fake Merlin,” Mordred snipped. “Care to fill the rest of us in?

“Yeah.” Ruby piped up. Pardon her for agreeing with Mordred, but when both her laid back headmaster and her steely, eternally calm uncle were both freaking out over something, it tended to pipe her curiosity.

“What did they take?”

 

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“I don’t know! I swear I don’t know!” the slovenly bandit screamed. “She just said she was going to Mistral, took a small team! No specifics!”

Gilgamesh scowled. Another useless mongrel. “Kirei.”

The priest nodded and snapped the worthless thief’s neck.

The King of Heroes was furious. He had been deceived. For nearly two decades, he had been deceived. He’d thought the first thief had been annihilated during his escape attempt, certain that the Gate of Babylon’s final unforgiving barrage had reduced her to ash. Even afterward, when he’d heard rumors of the Branwen Tribe and its supposedly fearsome leader, he dismissed them out of hand. It was only natural for brigands to attempt to pass themselves off as more threatening than they actually were with the names of more dreaded individuals (Kirei’s Assassin from the Fourth War had been one of many to bear his name after all) and the wretched bandit, lower than a mongrel she may have been, was certainly more competent than common ruffians. He’d had faith in his own abilities.

Perhaps if Enkidu had been present, he would have chastised him that his view may have been arrogant.

After his discussion with the King of Conquerors’ new master, he’d reunited with Kirei immediately and set out to hunt the scum. Assassin had been sent off on a separate assignment that the priest thought might bear fruit, but they were more than sufficient to track down the Branwen Tribe’s latest encampment. Even when they’d found the site abandoned and a horde of abominations marching forth, it had not taken Kirei long to track down the cowardly bandits. Then, the interrogation began.

If nothing else came of the excursion, at least the King of Heroes got to enjoy the superb entertainment of watching Kirei work.

One by one, each bandit had been crucified to the trees of the forest they’d thought they’d ruled. Then, Kirei would selectively apply both Black Keys and magecraft to induce the maximum amount of pain without killing the target. The priest had spent many long hours developing his technique, after all, he gained his pleasure from others’ suffering, not simply their deaths. In that at least, his master was better trained. Gilgamesh’s own style of interrogation tended to end with him losing his temper and exterminating the rabble before they could tell him what he needed to know.

Unfortunately, it seemed the thief had been wise. She’d taken everyone she trusted to Mistral and left behind only the idiotic grunts. They’d slaughtered them all, but they were still no closer to finding the thief and, by extension, his treasure. If they didn’t turn up any leads soon, he’d lose his patience and go with his backup plan.

And that would be a pity. He did so enjoy Mistral’s wine.

“Kirei, do you have any other ideas?”

The holy man gazed over his handiwork of corpses, a smirk on his face. He held up his right hand, now adorned with four Command Seals instead of the five it had had a few days ago. “One, my king. It should be arriving quite soon.”

A few minutes later, Assassin shimmered into existence beside them.

Gilgamesh did not like Assassin. He had a natural disdain for such slinking cowards in the first place, so having Saber’s foolish mongrel of a master from the Fourth War come forth was neither pleasant nor a surprise. The bastard had had the utter nerve to interrupt the King’s nuptials, but his actions had also led to them being brought to Remnant. For that and the pleasure that Kirei seemed to get out of his presence, the golden monarch tolerated the man’s existence.

Kirei grinned at his Servant. “Report, Assassin.”

The shady man growled, obviously trying to keep himself from speaking, but unable to resist the Command Seal’s compulsion. “As you commanded, I followed Sable Arc home from work in spirit form. Upon arrival, I maintained my Presence Concealment and observed the party. They have added the Lancer of the Fourth War, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, to their ranks with Blake Belladonna as his master.”

A mongrel under the command of a mongrel. How dull. It seemed that despite Assassin’s skills, he’d failed to bring back any useful infor—

“They have entered an alliance with Raven Branwen, who apparently controls both Lancelot and Hercules, both as Berserkers.”

Gilgamesh’s fists clenched. On the other hand…

Assassin quickly disclosed the rest of the discussion that had taken place. Of Adam Taurus’ death at the hands of some Hazel Rainart, whoever that was. It was somewhat disappointing that the bull faunus had been the first master to perish in the war, but at least he had taken the King’s words to heart and strived for everything he wanted, no matter the cost. There was some fine entertainment to be taken from that.

More importantly, the thief now knew he was coming for her. And with her tribe decimated, she would soon flee into the wind, and then tracking her down would become tedious. He would still do it to reclaim what was his, but it would be preferable to capture the demon now. She would be on guard, but he knew exactly where she would be.

“Kirei, you will make your way to Haven, and keep watch for the thief,” he commanded. “When she appears and makes her move for this ‘Relic of Knowledge’ you will summon me with a Command Seal.”

Kirei bowed his head. “Of course, my king. Though, I am curious why you do not wish to watch over the school yourself.”

“I have other business to attend to,” he informed him. “It is unfortunate, but the results of Saber’s disloyalty must be purged. Besides, the forces guarding Haven will unfailingly sense my glorious presence and focus on me as the most dangerous threat. Exterminating them would be a dull waste of my time.”

“Undoubtedly.” Kirei acknowledged. “However, may I make a request? To send Assassin to the motel ahead of you.”

“Oh. You’re not insinuating that _I,_ of all beings, will require assistance dealing with these mongrels? Are you, Kirei?”

“Not at all. I merely wish to indulge in a… personal delight.”

Gilgamesh smirked at Assassin, who seethed at his master. “You wish to set the father against the son? Very well. One less mongrel to muddy my sight.”

Assassin squirmed as Kirei held out his hand. “By my Command Seal, Kiritsugu Emiya…”

Gilgamesh didn’t bother listening to the rest of the order, instead glaring into the distance back towards Mistral. The city where he would finally get the key to reclaiming his treasure. Even if he had to burn the metropolis and every Servant in his path to the ground to obtain it.

_‘Ea. Just hold on a little longer. I am coming for you.’_


	57. Pieces in Place

“Please put the books over there, and then I think we’re done.”

“Of course, my lady,” Diarmuid responded. He quickly sorted the aforementioned tomes into the suitcase and zipped it up. With war about to break out at Haven, and likely to spill over into the rest of Mistral, Nicholas Arc had decided it would be best if his family evacuated immediately. Ozpin concurred with the sentiment and the entire group had been drafted into the packing process, the Knight of Fianna being assigned to assist Lavender Arc. The girl had been born frailer than most and so required some help to move at the same necessary speed as the others.

It was of no bother. Truthfully, Diarmuid was glad to be able to assist, no matter how little his contributions may have seemed. It was a knight’s duty to help those who needed help, and there were few more deserving than the King of Knights’ daughter. Besides, it kept his mind off the events from the mountain.

Everything had been one disaster after another. If anything good came of the battle, it was that his lingering doubt towards the King of Knights had evaporated. How could it not when he’d received such an earnest apology for the events of the last war from her blackened self of all people? His grudge would do no good to anyone, and even if he still wished to finally finish their duel, he could not put the desires of the past over the needs of the present.

Even still, Saber Alter was… wrong. She still had all the honor of her normal self, but she had been transformed into something else, something ruthless and vicious. Diarmuid was no fool, he knew that not all who had been called knights had held to the code of chivalry even in his own time, instead using their title for show and committing acts the blackest knave would never even consider. He himself had always tried his best, strived to get as close to the ideals of knighthood, to the dream of a chivalric warrior as he could, but in the end, he’d faltered, paying the ultimate price for his sloth.

Perhaps that was why he admired the King of Knights so much in their previous war. She was proof that one _could_ be a knight, that one could strive to do good and succeed. That chivalry was not a path for martyrs and fools. His final fate in that battle had shaken his resolve, and his disgust for both his own former master and Saber’s still burned hot, but his faith in her had not been misplaced. They were not all stumbling about in the dark seeking a light that never existed. There was good in the world.

Which made it all the more of a knife to the gut to see that good perverted and twisted into just another uncompromising champion of darkness. One who had reminded Diarmuid once again of his own inadequacy.

After the travesty that was his service under Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, he had been blessed to be summoned under a kind, understanding master. Adam had been harsh at times, true, but his goals were honest and honorable, seeking only the salvation of his people. Even after learning of Diarmuid’s past failures, he’d welcomed him with open arms and sworn that together they would make his dream a reality, that they would free the faunus from the yoke of their oppression.

But once more, the First Spear of Fianna had proven unequal to the task and his lord had paid the price for it.

He could not let it be the end. Adam had entrusted his dream to him, believing in him even in his final moments. He could not let him down. He would keep his oath and fulfill his master’s wish. He would ensure Salem was defeated and then he would claim the Grail for the faunus, ensuring there was true peace between them and humanity.

He had to. He could not fail again.

Fortunately, recent developments left him confident in his chances. From what both Adam and Lady Ilia had told him, and what he himself had observed at Oniyuri, Lady Blake was a more than worthy ally to have in the coming battle. Her stalwart defense of Mordred after he had wounded the Knight of Treachery proved that she had the valor and honor needed to strive for the dream before them. Their allies as well would make magnificent comrades to face the Alters alongside, he knew the King of Conquerors’ power firsthand after all. And in time, when they proved victorious against the darkness and all that was left was to settle the matter of the sacred chalice, he had no doubt that they would make worthy and honorable opponents.

But though that was all excellent news, Diarmuid, rather guiltily, held their meeting with the wizard Merlin (or Ozpin?) to be the most thrilling of recent events. The wise magician may have had the body of a child, but he had the skill to answer the Knight of Fianna’s most fervent prayer. Now, with his curse at last neutralized, he could finally interact with the many esteemed women of honor and skill he had had the glorious privilege to meet _without_ afflicting them with his ruinous love spot. Lady Sienna’s offhand dismissal of him might have been the happiest moment of his life.

Now all that was left was for the Magus of the Flowers to purge the fortified influence from Lady Blake and Lady Ilia, and at least for this life, he’d never have to worry about his mole again. He could simply be a knight.

Lavender sighed as he propped up the final suitcase. The young girl plopped down on her now barren mattress, a few beads of sweat trickling down her face, but a pleased grin across her face. “Thanks, Lancer. You’ve been a big help.”

“It’s nothing, my lady,” he replied softly. “Will you need any more assistance?”

“No, I can handle it from here. Despite what Sapphire says, I’m not made of glass,” the young woman chimed. “We won’t be out of the kingdom before you guys head to Haven, but we shouldn’t be around long enough to get in the way.”

“I’m sorry that you have to relocate like this,” Diarmuid said. While he enjoyed a good fight as much as any knight, he did not find the thrill of battle an acceptable excuse for war. The backlash on civilians was inexcusable, as they were uprooted from their homes, or worse, caught in the crossfire.

Lavender snorted. “Don’t be. Not your fault the headmaster decided to turn traitor. Besides, this place was always going to be temporary. Dad promised us we’d go back home to Ansel once everything’s died down.”

“Ansel…” Diarmuid murmured. “I imagine it is a beautiful place. Any village that the King of Knights would call home must be an exquisite paradise.”

“King of… oh right, mom. I’m still getting used to hearing people call her that,” Lavender noted, a tinge of sadness in her voice. “But yeah, Ansel alright. Not sure if I would call it a ‘paradise’ but it’s home. Used to be a lot of older folks there, veterans of the Great War and retired huntsmen. They’ve started dying off, so it’s not as full as it once was, but it’s still a nice place to retire if you’re not one for the main kingdoms.”

“A place for tired heroes,” Diarmuid noted. “It sounds exquisite. I’m glad that the King of—that your mother was able to find peace there.”

Lavender smiled. “You knew her from before, didn’t you? From her first… life? With Mordred?”

Diarmuid shook his head. “No, unfortunately. I would have been honored to meet her in life, but I lived a country and quite a few years away from Camelot. I only knew her and Mordred by reputation. There is not one who would call themselves a hero that does not know their tale. I met her in the Fourth Holy Grail War, and Mordred when we fought at Oniyuri.”

“Oh right,” Lavender scowled suspiciously. “Didn’t you almost kill her?”

The Knight of Fianna cringed. He bowed his head in earnest apology. “I did. Though I was victorious in our duel, she was unfairly handicapped without my knowledge.”

“But you still… _huh_. Nevermind,” Lavender groaned. Her face fell into her palms with a frustrated sigh. “Sorry. I’m still getting used to you guys being so casual about fighting to the death. I know the Grail is important, but you were friends with mom, and yet you almost killed her child without a second thought. And neither you or her talk about as if it was more important than a cup of coffee.”

Diarmuid raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure how much the King of Knight would begrudge him for defeating the warrior who killed her and destroyed her kingdom. Doing so in an unfair duel certainly, but the death itself? He sensed there was quite a bit about Mordred’s past that she and her master had left out of their explanation to the Arc sisters. The girls deserved to know the truth about their new sibling, but ultimately, it was not his place to talk. Jaune Arc and his Servant needed to inform their family.

Besides, it was his duty to ease a maiden’s worries, not worsen them.

“This conflict, it has been forced upon your family, upon this world,” he began. “You did not ask for it, yet due to the actions of others, you have been sentenced to turmoil you never imagined. It is a curse for you. But we Heroic Spirits, we knew what the Holy Grail War would entail. We knew we were walking into battle and were willing to pay that price in order to live again, to have another chance at our dreams. There is a… communion with that. Even Servants as disparate as myself, Mordred, even Berserker, we all understand on some instinctual level that whatever time we get here… it is a gift. We’ve lived our lives. We can only exist as Servants, as extensions of others’ will because it is not the place of the shadows of the past to chart the course of the present. To even see the wonders of humanity’s current world, to know that our efforts in life were not in vain, that is a privilege. And so, if it is the will of those who have granted us this privilege that we fight, it would be the height of dishonor to refuse. Thus, we are all one in our cause, and have no reason to bear ill will against each other for merely doing out duty.”

“Or maybe it’s because none of us see any reason to take offense at killing people who are already dead.”

Lancer and Lavender whirled to the open doorway. Archer strode into the room.

Lavender smiled, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Hey, Archer. Did you need something?”

“Your father merely asked for everyone to gather in the courtyard. He wants to go over the plan for when you all reach the docks.”

“Ugh, I swear, sometimes he thinks we’re all still ten. We know how to board a bullhead,” Lavender groaned. She hopped off the bed. “Well, best not keep him waiting. It was nice talking to you, Lancer.”

Diarmuid smiled. “The feeling is mutual, my lady.”

The young girl started walking but paused before she could leave the doorway. She turned back to face him and Archer. “I know that everything going is probably more complicated than I know. Dad, Sapphire, Sable, and even Coral have been acting differently since Jaune and Mordred got back from the White Fang. I know there’s something they’re not telling the rest of us. Probably something bad. But even if that’s the case, I hope… I hope that somehow you all get what you want. You all seem like good people.”

With that, Lavender left to join her family.

Lancer looked to Archer. “She doesn’t know about Saber Alter?”

“Nor Mordred’s past, nor certain events that took place between Ruby and me on the way here,” the bowman responded. “She probably wouldn’t call us ‘good people’ if she did.”

Diarmuid frowned. “Still, it feels wrong to hide such information from the King of Knights’ own family.”

Archer shook his head. “No wonder you got along so well with her. You both love to be honorable, even when you shouldn’t be.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“In some ways it is. In others it is not,” the silver-haired man spoke ominously. “Will you be able to go along with specific parts of the plan?”

“The makeup?” Diarmuid inquired. He nodded. “I understand the evil we face. Every advantage we can get is necessary. Besides, Lady Blake has commanded it and I have sworn to follow her orders so long as they do not contradict Master Adam’s final wishes.”

“And there lies my main concern,” Archer revealed. “You are a good man, Lancer. Despite your curse, it took someone casting a _geis_ on you for you to take a woman. But your guilt over that has led you to become subservient, a tool for whoever summons you.”

“Is that not our purpose?”

“Only if we allow it to be. And I worry that you will allow your duty to be a Servant to supersede your nature to be a good man.”

Diarmuid chuckled. “You worry too much, Archer. The two are not mutually exclusive. You yourself are proof of that.”

Archer cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t possibly be more wrong.”

“No?” Diarmuid smirked. “I have been here perhaps a day, and I have seen how close you and your master are. I doubt most other Servants would listen to hour-long lectures on the mechanics of modern weaponry at the behest of a young girl. The affections you have earned from the Arc sisters, Lavender especially, prove that there must be good they can see in you as well.”

“I knew their mother, I am not going to seduce them,” Archer muttered angrily. Off Diarmuid’s teasing grin, he scowled. “You have a skewed perception. If you knew what I’ve done, you wouldn’t be so quick to praise me.”

Diarmuid shrugged. “It’s true. I don’t know your true name, or your past, but I don’t need to. The Arc sisters were quite talkative about who did know you, who did trust you. And I trust the King of Knights. She believed in you, enough to call you friend. Who am I to doubt your worthiness of that honor?”

Archer frowned, his eyes off in the distance. “She knew me at the beginning. I don’t think she’d be as enthralled by what I am now.”

“What? A hero?”

The bowman didn’t respond. His hands clenched, either in distress or irritation, Diarmuid couldn’t tell.

“If this goes south, and Saber Alter arrives before you can finish the fight, what will you do?”

“That depends,” Diarmuid admitted. “Is there any way to free her from the corruption?”

Archer shook his head. “If she is like Lancer Alter, the mud has permeated her form at a fundamental level. It is a part of the Saber Class shell she has been summoned in. Without killing her, there is no way to extract it.”

Diarmuid sighed. He had hoped there was a way to save his friend. Both because he wished to reunite her with her family, and because he wasn’t sure they could defeat her, even with their allies. Archer seemed to believe the same thing, his voice so flat and matter-of-fact that it couldn’t be anything but forced.

Of course, that could also be because there was more than one nearly invincible foe they had to deal with.

“What about you?” he asked. “Even if he doesn’t have his most powerful weapon, are you sure you can defeat the King of Heroes? I admit I’ve never seen him go all out before, but still…”

“Very few have ever seen him go all out. Even fewer have lived to tell the tale,” Archer explained. “I am better suited than most. My abilities are a solid counter to the Gate of Babylon, at least his usual method using it. And without Ea, he has no surefire way to deal with that.”

Diarmuid frowned. “You still don’t sound particularly confident.”

Archer shrugged. “The King of Heroes with Ea is one I know. He’s arrogant, assured of his own superiority and that causes him to make crucial mistakes. He likely wouldn’t even dare to draw the Sword of Rupture until I had practically taken his head. But without it, I don’t know precisely how he will act. He’s still been the most powerful being in the world for quite a while, but he has spent at least a decade and a half without one of his most beloved treasures. Perhaps it’s made him more careful, more calculating.”

“I thought you said your Reality Marble was a perfect counter to his Noble Phantasm?”

“As he normally uses, it is. But the Gate of Babylon’s greatest strength is its versatility. Until my powers, it does not just contain weapons. Statues the size of skyscrapers, caldrons of poisons and boiling oil that could flood a football stadium, and dozens of other prototype Noble Phantasms that he can bomb me with on a whim but would cost me a sizable chunk of _prana_ to defend against. On top of maintaining my own world. I still stand a better chance than anyone else, but it might be better if he had Ea in his possession to keep him complacent. As it is, my best chance is to keep him too angry to strategize and get the fight into close quarters as soon as possible.”

“Perhaps we can convince our new ally to return the weapon?” Diarmuid joked.

Archer furrowed his brow. “That is a different matter. Lancelot’s Knight of Owner could prevent Gilgamesh from sensing and reclaiming the sword, but he would have scoured the planet a hundred times over to track it down. Where could Raven have hidden it that made him so desperate as to start a Grail War to find it?”

“You have a theory?”

“A few. Certain details are starting to form a clearer picture.”

The bowman sighed and turned away in a huff. “It’s not important. If I’m wrong, it will cause needless harm.”

Diarmuid raised an eyebrow. “And if you’re right?”

Archer said nothing, his emotionless back turned to his fellow knight class.

Lancer sighed. “It’s about time for both of us to head out. I wish you good luck, Archer.”

“And I you, Lancer,” the bowman replied. “I must say, you’re probably the least annoying spearman I’ve ever met.”

Diarmuid chuckled at that before a more serious expression overtook him. “That reminds me. You mentioned that the Hound of Chulainn was among our foes.”

“He is.”

The Irishman gulped. Like all the youth of the Emerald Isle, he’d spent his boyhood fantasizing about encountering his country’s most legendary hero, fighting evil and going on adventures. Now he would get his wish, but in the worst way possible, with the Child of Light blackened by a devil and bearing all his divine strength to bear against those Diarmuid had sworn to protect.

“Do you have any advice for facing him?”

Archer grimaced. “Don’t get stabbed by Gae Bolg. It is… quite unpleasant.”

Of course it was.

Diarmuid nodded to his fellow and dissipated into spirit form to join his master. This time, no matter the odds, he would not fail.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Emerald found Weiss sitting on Haven’s walls.

The blackened huntress smiled softly at the picturesque sunset, her legs swinging through the air like some lovestruck schoolgirl. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The last gasp of day, desperate to keep the inevitable coming of night at bay. Its struggle is mesmerizing but ultimately futile.”

“Yeah, sure,” Emerald dryly remarked. “Look, I just came to tell you that we’ve got word from Hazel.”

“The White Fang meeting went south, I know,” Weiss informed her. “I am one with the Queen, just as Hazel and Saber Alter are. I know what they know.” A pleased grin widened across her face. “Including Hazel’s little extermination of my father. I’ll have to thank him for that. Perhaps a card?”

Emerald’s eyes narrowed. “You know, I didn’t expect you to be too broken up about this, he did have your brother toss you in the mud after all, but come on. Did you really hate him that much?”

“That stain was not worth my hate,” Weiss declared. “He was an insignificant, spiteful little man. The only good thing he ever did for me was making Whitley give me to the Queen, and the only mercy I ever showed my dear brother was having Lancer put him out of his misery before father could sink his claws in even further.”

“What about the rest of your family?” Emerald inquired. “Your mother seemed to care about you back at the mansion.”

Weiss shrugged. “My mother is another victim of my father, further misguided by Ozpin and his pawns. In a way, her desecration of herself was an admirable effort to escape their clutches, no matter how foolish. If I ever see her again, I shall do what I can to make her see the truth of the Queen. The same with my sister, though her devotion to Ironwood may make that somewhat more difficult. Still, I won’t give up on the people I care about. The White Fang has been cleared from Blake’s path, and I will soon deal with the obstacles that blind Ruby and Yang.”

Emerald scowled. She didn’t really get what the blackened girl was talking about, but it wasn’t too hard to guess it would involve a lot of killing. A lot of killing to hurt people she claimed to care about. Of course, that raised the question if Salem, or anyone she had altered, could even care at all.

Weiss leapt to her feet and turned to the green-haired girl. “You really should take a dip in the mud when this is all over Emerald. It will help you deal with that loneliness of yours.”

“What?” Emerald exclaimed. “No way. I am not getting _altered_. I am perfectly happy as I am. And what the hell do you mean lonely?”

“Oh, come on, as though it isn’t obvious,” Weiss rolled her eyes. “Despite how annoyed you get around some of the more eccentric of personalities, and believe me I get that, you long for companions, for a family you can count on. It’s why you went along with Cinder even though you knew she didn’t give a damn about you, why your wish is, of all things, to bring her back from the dead.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emerald growled. “Even if Cinder didn’t care about me, I cared about her. She gave me a chance to be more than I ever could have been alone. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“You wouldn’t have met Caster,” Weiss noted. “Honestly, it’s no wonder you two get along so well. The both of you are used to being made to feel special and then abandoned to fend for yourselves. Only now, you have each other. It’s rather adorable.”

“What? Like you and your dog?” Emerald shot back. “Funny how you keep ending up with happy go lucky idiots who think jumping headfirst into a fight is a good time.”

“You really should try it, it’s more cathartic than you’d think,” Weiss replied smoothly. “But you’re not wrong. Lancer Alter does share some similarities with Ruby. But those qualities are merely surface level. While Ruby certainly enjoys a good fight, her patience for the more delicate things in life is sadly lacking.”

“Like someone else?”

Weiss chuckled. “Indeed. Admittedly, I am far less refined than I like to appear to be. I spent so long being told to be patient that I grew tired with not receiving results when I thought I should get them. But that is where Cu Chulainn comes in. Despite his bloodlust, despite his somewhat crude and boisterous nature, he is the very picture of a knight, chivalrous and wise. He has an appreciation for the finer things in life, even if he can easily go without them, and he takes the time to help me understand both.”

A softer, more delicate smile blossomed across the white-haired girl’s lips. “He makes me better.”

That was a weird thing to saaaaaay… no. No, no, no, no, no. It couldn’t be. That was disgusting!

“Are you telling me that you have a crush on—”

A blur of black spikes leapt over the sky and landed atop the wall, crushing the brickwork beneath its dark talons. Emerald took a step in dread.

Weiss merely grinned. “I hope the fishing went well, Lancer.”

The Alter smiled back at his handler, devilish anticipation alight in his crimson eyes. “Magnificently, my lady. We’ve got a few biters approaching the school now.”

“Qrow?” Emerald inquired.

“Him, Blake Belladonna, that chameleon faunus from the mountain, a girl with some kind of chakram guns, and what looks like a farm boy.”

Emerald raised an eyebrow. “A farm boy?”

“No one ever accused Qrow Branwen of proper childcare,” Weiss snorted.

“I think I remember the kid from Kuroyuri,” Lancer remarked. “I think he broke his legs, or something.”

“An untrained boy in the midst of the Arma Nuckelavee? I’m surprised that’s all that happened to him,” Weiss mused. “Still, it’s strange that he has healed so quickly, just like Blake did. And him being brought here…”

“Did you sense any Servants?” Emerald asked. If it was just huntsmen, then they could just have Lancer Alter slaughter them all and draw out the rest with Rider Alter’s invasion. But if there were other Heroic Spirits, they could have a fight on their hands.

“Three of them,” Lancer Alter revealed. “Two were in spirit form, but one was trying to slink by as this mass of shadows on the wall. According to the Queen’s memories, it’s probably Sir Lancelot of the Round Table, Raven Branwen’s Berserker from the last war.” Cu Chulainn licked his lips. “I can’t wait to clash with a warrior of his caliber.”

“What about the two in spirit form?” Weiss inquired. “Did you recognize them?”

“One of them was definitely the Lancer that Saber Alter and Hazel at the White Fang HQ. No clue who the other one was.”

“Hmm…” Weiss scratched her chin in thought. “Three Servants, with Ruby, Yang, Jaune, and even Raven Branwen nowhere to be found. Strange to send Heroic Spirits without their masters to aid them.”

“Not too strange,” Lancer Alter remarked. “The Mages of old were a superstitious and cowardly lot. It wasn’t too unusual for a master in the older wars to send their Servant out to hunt while they stowed away in a mystic bunker somewhere. Though, the chameleon girl did seem to have Command Seals. Maybe she’s Lancer’s new master.”

“Great,” Emerald sighed. “I’ll get Caster up here. Something tells me we’re going to need all hands on deck.”

“Indeed we will,” Weiss mused. Her tongue peeked out to lightly lick her bottom lip. “It is time to annihilate the architect of the lies.”

Lancer Alter cocked an eyebrow. “So… are we killing the cat girl, or—”

“No! We are not! How could you have possibly interpreted what I just said as a declaration of killing intent towards Blake?”

“You didn’t exactly say who this architect is…”

“We just talked with Blake a few days ago about how I _wasn’t_ going to kill her! There was fish and everything!”

Emerald groaned, smacking her head into her palm. Couldn’t Branwen’s group get there any sooner? Between using her semblance on multiple people and the bickering of the two before her, she wasn’t sure which gave her the worse migraine.

 

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“Come on, Rider! Pick up the pace!” Yang roared as the Gordius Wheel streaked through the sky. “We have to get back!”

Lighting crackled around the chariot, the divine bulls moaning with fury as they charged towards Mistral.

Yang couldn’t believe how stupid everyone else was being. Trusting Raven? There was no way they weren’t going to get double-crossed. She’d wanted to reach through her scroll and strangle Ozpin when she got the call. She knew things were bad, but they couldn’t be that desperate. They didn’t connect the dots that Raven had conveniently arrived to make her offer while Yang and Rider were away dropping off Sienna Khan with her troops? Come on!

She had to get to Haven and stop whatever the bitch was planning, or all her friends would be in trouble. The Gordius Wheel was going as fast as it could, but even as they whirred past bullheads headed for the kingdom’s walls, they just weren’t going fast enough. Raven could make her move at any time.

“Come on, come on,” Yang chanted. “Why can’t we go any faster?”

“We’re nearly there, master, don’t worry,” Iskandar assured her, as he cracked the reins, blowing past the city’s massive walls. “We’ll get to Haven in only a few minutes—”

The long, blaring sound of a horn cut him off. Rider halted the Gordius Wheel and whirled towards the outskirts of the city. A black shadow surged forth from the horizon.

Yang’s jaw dropped. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

They marched out of the forests beyond the city’s walls, at once both a shambling barbaric horde and in perfect military formation. Thousands upon thousands of spearmen, each draped in dark cloth robes and drenched in emerald fire marched towards the city like the merciless tempest of a storm cloud, every step a thunder strike.

But the real eye-catcher was in their center.

“Is that a Goliath?”

“No, that’s no Grimm” Iskandar informed her, his voice grave and subdued. “That’s an elephant.”

Yang had never seen a real live elephant in the flesh before. She knew the animals existed from textbooks, but they weren’t exactly a common sight in Vale, or any of the four kingdoms really. There were rumors that a few herds still existed deep in Menagerie, but the beasts were still thought to be endangered at best.

Seeing a real live specimen now, Yang couldn’t imagine how. The black behemoth before her was nearly half the size of Mistral’s walls. It had two massive incisor trunks, each one three times the size of Bumblebee and an armored snot that was even larger, each appendage probably capable of crushing a bullhead like cardboard. Emerald hellfire bellowed out of its hidden mouth as it trudged forward with a golden litter on its back.

In said litter was the single largest human being Yang had ever seen. Even at her current distance, the black titan stood out as a beacon of terror, cryptic tattoos painted all over his form with golden armor covering up the rest. In each hand, he raised a pair of enormous axes, each one spewing emerald flames.

“Well, guess we found Rider Alter.”

“Indeed,” Iskandar mused, his eyes locked on the army below. “Darius seems to have fallen far.”

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “You know this guy?”

“I conquered his empire. Some of his governors turned on him before we could have a final battle,” Iskandar explained. “I executed them for it, the traitors.”

“Doesn’t look like he appreciated the thought,” Yang observed. “They’re coming this way.”

“That they are.” The monarch stared out at the approaching horde. A smirk crossed his face and he tightened his grip on the chariot’s reins. “We should give them a greeting. Cut them off before they reach the walls and keep the battle from spilling into the streets.”

It was a good plan. Mistral’s defenses had been devastated by Lionheart’s purge of the huntsmen, and even if they hadn’t been, this was a Servant they were dealing with, one with their own army to boot. Yang didn’t know how strong each of those zombie soldiers were, but she didn’t think it would take them too long to get over the kingdom’s walls. Strictly speaking, Ionian Hetairoi was the safest counter they had.

Still, she frowned. If they activated the Reality Marble, they wouldn’t be able to get out until they either won, or Iskandar ran out of _prana_ , at which point they were probably dead anyway. No matter what though, they would be in no position to save the others from Raven’s evitable backstab. But there was no way they could leave the city defenseless, the people would be slaughtered.

What could they do? They couldn’t ignore either threat but there was just no way for them to be in two places at… once. For… _them_.

Gods, she was stupid.

“Rider, if I go and help the others, can you handle your old buddy?”

Iskandar cocked an eyebrow. “It will be an interesting battle, but it should be fine. Since it will be my Reality Marble, our _prana_ link should remain intact. But I would have thought you’d wish to fight at my side, master.”

“I do,” Yang insisted quickly, not wanting to offend her Servant. “But I can’t leave the others high and dry. Besides, what good would I do you against those things? I’d just be a soft target.”

“Huh, you are not wrong,” Iskandar sighed. His smile returned a moment later. “And even if we do not fight side by side, we shall still be joined in glorious combat.”

“Exactly, big guy,” Yang concurred. She raised her right fist, and the King of Conquerors bumped it eagerly. She flashed the redhead a grateful smile. “We’re in this together. And we’re going to win it together.”

“Without a doubt. Take care, master,” Iskandar scratched his chin in thought. An eager grin blossomed across his face. “Actually… your semblance allows you to store power that you’ve been struck by, correct?”

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“And your aura could, in theory, restore itself by the time you reach Haven?”

Okay, now she was worried. “It probably could. My landing strategy is good, but it will still take me a bit to run there. Why?”

Iskandar pulled back his arm. “Perfect! Get ready, master!”

Yang barely managed to turn around and ready herself before he threw the punch. His fist collided with her back with the force of a jackhammer and sent her soaring across the sky towards Haven. She was halfway to the clouds before she managed to deploy Ember Celica and balance her flight. She probably would have been furious at her Servant, but honestly, after she got her coughing under control, she couldn’t stop smiling.

He hadn’t hit her with anywhere near his full strength, but he had still given her far more power than any human could hit with. A bit more than what Kirei had struck her with back at Beacon, just far less focused and thus easier to handle and absorb. As it was, she was packing enough strength to take on even a Servant, at least for a little bit. It made her wonder how long the King of Conquerors had been planning this little strategy. Probably since she had aired her worries to him before Kuroyuri.

A thrilled, bloodthirsty grin spread across Yang’s face. She really did have one hell of a Servant. She could trust him to save Mistral. Which meant it was her job to save her friends.

 

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Arturia’s eyes narrowed as a familiar cloud of lightning streaked across the skies. She landed her bullhead just outside the kingdom’s high walls to avoid the storm. While she was confident she could handle the familiar foe in combat, she couldn’t keep up with the pace of his mount in her current vehicle.

She turned to Hazel, who rose from the passenger seat of the cockpit. “It seems Dr. Watts’ plan has worked. The King of Conquerors is headed for Rider.”

Hazel nodded. “Makes sense. Watts mentioned that those two had some unfinished business.”

The hulking man’s face betrayed his disinterested tone. Even as he spouted his simple comment, his eyes narrowed at the charging tempest, unable to look away as it approached the screaming shadow of Rider Alter’s army.

“Do you wish for me to kill him from here?” Arturia inquired. “If I unleashed my sword from here, he would not be able to escape.”

“No,” Hazel rebuffed immediately. He paused for a moment later, as if confused why he spoke at all. He worriedly shook his head.

Arturia sympathized with the man. Whatever was causing him such distress was deeply rooted enough that even the Queen’s blackening could not completely keep it from affecting him. It was worrisome, but the mud within her bid her to humor the poor soul.

“I suppose Rider Alter would be quite insubordinate if we dealt with the King of Conquerors before he got a chance for his little clash,” she rationalized. “Still, Iskandar is no easy foe. Even with the Queen’s might, Darius may not be able to prevail. Should we move to support him?”

“I will,” Hazel declared. “You need to go and reinforce Watts and the others. If the rest of Branwen’s group isn’t moving to assist here, they must have some other target. And since the Branwen Tribe weren’t where Qrow told Lionheart they would be, it is possible he has reconciled with his sister.”

“Which means the Relic is vulnerable,” Arturia surmised. “Still, are you sure you can handle the King of Conquerors?”

“You know my abilities.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

Hazel sighed. “I know. Rest assured. You have nothing to fear. I have sworn myself to the Queen. As long as she keeps her end of the bargain, I will not waver.”

Sirens flared along the city walls. Mistral had caught sight of the army at their gates. The kingdom’s defensive shield blurred to life across its skyline. Terror permeated the air, memories of the Fall of Beacon still fresh.

Black veins surged across Hazel’s face, before fading a moment later. He frowned. “Grimm will be swarming the city soon. Make sure they have a path inside. That will force our enemies out.”

He strode off after the Riders, his hands clenched in frustration over the lives that would doubtlessly be lost that day.

Truthfully, Arturia agreed with him, though she also recognized the Queen’s purpose. If your enemy sought to go to ground, give them no ground to go to. Jaune and his friends sought to use Mistral as their camouflage, so the city would have to burn. It was brutal, but necessary in a time of war. Their foes could either continue to hide like cowards and let the innocents of the kingdom perish, or they could come out and face the horde of darkness.

She knew which one they would choose. After all, they were heroes.

She turned towards the kingdom’s wall and raised her black sword above her head. A moment later, a titanic column of darkness split the sky.

The wall, and Mistral’s hope, came crumbling down.


	58. The Battle of Haven

_Their enemies were right in front of them._

_The boy who smelled like the wizard. The drunkard with the big sword. The children with the skin of beasts._

_Only the swift man with the twin lances protected them. He and the other Berserker could deal with him easily. They would tear him apart before he could raise his infernal crimson spears._

_But his master had ordered him to wait._

_And he would obey._

_A good knight obeyed._

_He would obey._

_They arrived in the book filled room. The boy and the drunkard spoke with a man with a lion’s tail, gesturing to his master’s discipline as they spoke._

_The false lion was not the only predator about. He sensed two others, warriors like himself and Berserker hiding behind the walls._

_Yet still, one of them felt… wrong. Black, and terrible. Sinful and disgraced as he was, but unforgivably proud of their defilement._

_He could not understand it. His hands quivered with fury, desperate to unleash their wrath upon this wretched cur._

_But his master had ordered him to wait._

_And he would obey._

_A good knight obeyed._

_He would obey._

_Suddenly, terror rippled through the air. All present, save the hidden perverted one, trembled in a singular instant._

_Outside the false lion's window, light split the sky._

_Her light._

_The king’s light._

_But it was not._

_It was black. The light that could not be any less than the most brilliant gold was black, and dark, and **corrupted**._

_Corrupted like a sinful one._

_Like the witch._

_It was wrong. It was wrong,_ wrong _, wrong, **wrong** , **wrong** , **WRONG**!_

_The king was pure! The king was just! The king needed to strike him down! To punish him for his betrayal!_

_But the king was perverted._

_The king was in danger._

_The king needed to be saved._

_The king had to die._

_His master had ordered him to wait._

_But he could not obey. He could not be a good knight._

_A far older oath demanded his wrath._

**“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!”**

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Qrow’s first clue that his semblance had decided to kick them all in the teeth was when Mistral’s energy shield flickered and died in the span of an instant.

His second was when a hellish column of primordial darkness split the sky and brought everyone in the room to their knees from just the shockwave.

The third was Lancelot manifesting from his shadows, his howls even more ear-splitting than usual, and jumping through the office window wall and down into Mistral like some frat boy leaping into a pool.

From the frantic wing flapping of the raven just outside the office, he was pretty sure that one was even a surprise to his sister.

“L- La- Lancelot.” Lionheart stuttered, trembling as he pointed at the new gaping hole in his office. He dashed over to his desk and snatched his weapon, a wrist-mounted dust fuser, out of a drawer. He strapped the bracer on and started up the system, the disk containing various types of dust sparking as it began to rotate at high speeds.

He whirled on Qrow, aiming his weapon at the huntsman’s head. “What’s going on, Qrow? Why is Raven’s Servant here?”

Qrow was sure his face must have looked hilariously unhelpful, but he was far too busy failing to come up with a bullshit excuse to do anything other than draw Harbinger. Beside him, Oscar slipped Oz’s cane into his hands and extended it to its full recognizable length. The other kids brought out their weapons as well.

“You… you’re working with her?” Lionheart muttered. “Qrow… you… you betrayed Ozpin to Raven. How could yo—ah!”

A crimson spear flashed out of the air and smacked the headmaster’s weapon aside. Diarmuid materialized into being, a hard glare aimed at Leo just as his spears went to the lion Faunus’ throat.

“You should not speak of treachery when you have chosen to forsake those you swore to protect.” the knight spat.

“What?” Lionheart exclaimed. “You’re… Servant! Please, what else was I supposed to do?”

The bookcase on the room’s wall exploded in a rush of splinters and smoke. A familiar armored figure charged out of the smog, his bloodcurdling lance aimed straight at Diarmuid’s back.

The Knight of Fianna whirled around faster than Qrow could track, but he was still barely able to get his spears up in time. The green clothed warrior went flying back smashing through the shelves and wall on the other side of the room.

Lancer Alter grinned, standing tall in all his wicked glory. He twirled his crimson spiked spear like Zwei wagged his tail for play time. “Can we skip all the ‘You betrayed me! No! You betrayed _me_!’ and just get to the fun part?”

“I have no objections.” a familiar voice called.

Qrow leapt to the side, barely dodging a barrage of ghostly black swords. He hissed as one managed to clip him and slash a bit out of his aura.

A smirking Weiss Schnee emerged from the fading dust cloud, her black rapier at the ready and a pair of dark glyphs at her side. Emerald, Caster, and a mustached man Qrow assumed was that Watts guy Ozpin mentioned followed her out.

Watts sighed. “Why must we always destroy the bookcase? It does open, you know.”

Blake, Oscar, Ilia, and Vernal maneuvered over to Qrow’s side of the room, Diarmuid exit hole right behind him. The Knight of Fianna dashed back to the forefront, putting himself between them all and a smirking Lancer Alter.

It was noble, but Qrow didn’t think it would do much. Even if their ally could hold off his fellow Irishman, which given their newest exchange seemed unlikely, that would still leave the rest of them to handle the mini Ice Queen and her friends. Normally, that would be too much of a problem except one of those friends was Caster.

Barring Ruby’s eyes, Qrow didn’t feel comfortable putting anyone against a Servant. Those behemoths could only ‘safely’ be fought by each other. But Diarmuid couldn’t take both Caster and Lancer Alter. So, unless pigs were flying and his sister had finally decided to be honorable, they were screwed.

Weiss snapped her fingers and another pair of spectral swords shot towards him.

Berserker materialized in front of him, and the blades shattered like glass, the giant completely unfazed.

Huh. So Ruby and Ozpin’s faith in humanity thing wasn’t completely naïve. Looked like he was having winged hog after this mess was over.

“Hercules!” Caster gasped. She moved in front of Emerald and raised her hands protectively, a dozen pink magic circles springing into being. “How?”

Lancer Alter smirked, his hunger gaze locked on Berserker. “Hercules, huh? Haha! I love this Grail War!”

His spiked lance ignited in an aura of crimson bloodlust. “Come on, big guy! Let’s see if your legend is true!”

The armored spearman charged, dark _prana_ spilling off him in waves. With a world-shaking howl, Berserker brought his sword up to meet him. Stone struck scarlet bone and a typhoon erupted from the clash. The gale force whirlwind shredded what was left of the office’s walls and the room exploded, scattering chunks of stone, and the occupants, out into the city and the surrounding halls of Haven.

Qrow shifted into bird form immediately upon being sent over the cliff, struggling madly against the backlash of the winds, but eventually being able to find his balance. He quickly scanned the skies, praying that he had been the only member of their party to be sent into the air.

Of course, his semblance was still his semblance, so of course, he wasn’t.

“Aaaaahhhh!”

Oscar’s screams were very high pitched for a boy his age, but given he was falling to his doom, they were probably the appropriate reaction.

Qrow dived for him, shifting back and forth between human and bird to accelerate as the frozen winter wind sheered against his face. Thanks to being a good deal heavier than the farm boy, he was able to catch up to him rather quickly. He returned to bird form and snatched up the boy by the scruff of his shirt making to fly them both back to the battle.

Then he realized that, aura enhanced or not, a crow didn’t have the muscle to lift a fourteen-year-old boy. The pair kept on falling, slowed by Qrow’s efforts but by no means abated.

 _‘No. No, no, no, no, no!’_ Qrow mentally protested. _‘I am not dying like a damn cartoon character! I am not letting Tai hold this over me!’_

He strained against his mystical form’s limits, but in the end, no matter who he was as a human, this form had been designed to be inconspicuous, for stealth. It just wasn’t strong enough. He just wasn’t strong enough. He never had been.

Not to save Summer, not to save Tai, not to keep Raven from going psycho, or even to help Ruby even a fraction of the amount Archer had. In the end, he couldn’t even save the one guy he had devoted his life to.

Guess he really was a bad luck charm.

A faint flash of green glowed beneath him.

Suddenly, strength flooded through him. Qrow’s spindly avian feet felt like they could lift a full-grown Beowolf, allowing him to halt their descent and begin climbing upward. He glanced down, his beak wide in disbelief.

The farm boy smirked up at him, an older and more confident look in his eye. His hand was pressed into Qrow’s foot, emerald lines of reinforcement surging through him.

“Thank you for saving me, old friend.” Ozpin declared. “Now then, I believe our allies may require some assistance.”

Qrow grinned as much as a bird could grin and jetted back towards Lionhearts office. He ran into trouble as he got closer to the office, periodic whirlwinds rushed out as Berserker and Lancer Alter’s clash inevitably continued.

But strangely, he caught sight of a familiar raven in the skies. Its beady eyes blazed with fire, and a path through the cyclones opened.

Qrow reluctantly nodded to his sister in thanks and flew back into the room, making sure that he and Ozpin landed in such a position that they would be blown _into_ the school if anything went wrong. He shifted back to human form and scanned his surroundings.

Berserker and Lancer Alter still dominated Lionheart’s former office, the two titans crashing into each other over and over again, each charge shattering the sound barrier. The planet quaked beneath their feet and if the other combatants hadn’t had aura they might have been killed by the sonic booms alone.

Both warriors were expert combatants, even Berserker with his mind clouded by madness, his instincts too well ingrained to be subverted by such a meager ailment. Still, it was a handicap, and eventually, his swing was just a bit wide.

Lancer Alter pounced, his spear rushing in like hunting dog that had smelled wounded prey. The crimson barbs didn’t land a direct hit, but they did score a glancing blow to Berserker’s side, drawing thin streams of blood from the great hero.

“First blood to me.” Cu Chulainn grinned. “What’s next, big guy?”

Berserker answered by snagging one of the spear’s many spines and pulling it in. He brought around his massive stone sword and smashed it down into the crimson lance, trapping it on the floor.

Lancer’s eyes went wide. “That’ll work.”

To his credit, he easily leaned back and dodged the sword swing that would have decapitated him.

The kick to the face that sent him hurdling through the ceiling? Not so much.

Berserker spared a brief glance at his still bleeding side, worry flashing across his face. Gold sparks ran along his injuries, but the wounds did not heal instantly. The giant huffed and leapt through the hole he’d made to Haven’s roof, the maniacal laughter echoing through letting him know his fight was far from done.

Qrow scowled. It was annoying to not have their trump card, but at least he was keeping Lancer Alter from slaughtering them all. Probably best their fight was moving away, juggernauts like them weren’t meant to fight in enclosed spaces.

He turned his gaze to the rest of the combatants, their battles spread out amongst the hallway and classrooms that had been exposed the titan’s clash.

As expected, Lancer and Caster had set upon each other like vicious rapier wasps. The purple cloaked witch zoomed through the air, shooting down rays of pink lasers as she went. Diarmuid dashed around each one, dissipating any that got close with but a twirl of his red spear.

“Well aren’t you a tricky one.” the Witch of Betrayal mocked. “Your spear is quite the interesting toy, Lancer. I had hoped for Saber, but you’ll do. You are quite handsome yourself.”

“Your words mean little, Caster.” Diarmuid countered. “Whether Saber was here in my place or not, your defeat is assured.”

Caster smirked. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I would.”

Raven streaked in and transformed back to human, her crimson eyes alight were infernal energy. She gripped hard on her sword hilt, flames reeving around her bulky scabbard. She rose into the air atop a miniature tornado, an orb of sapphire lighting crackling around her. With a bloodcurdling yell, she drew her sword and unleashed a slash of blazing flames. The maelstrom surged forth and incinerate everything in its path.

Which just happened to be right _next_ to Caster.

Raven’s eyes widened and whirled on the witch. “What?”

“Oh my, seeing things that aren’t there, are we?” Caster chuckled. “Don’t worry. That won’t be a problem for much longer.”

She raised her hand and a pink ring appeared right in front of Raven.

“You’ll be too dead.”

The circle fired.

Raven moved fast. She slashed her odachi right in front of her, returning it to its sheath and spawning a portal to shield her at the same time. A corresponding one opened up right next to Qrow, which he immediately jumped away from.

Fortunately, when Caster’s energy blast went through the portal, it turned out the end pointed towards him wasn’t the exit point. Rather, the pink beam rushed out the opposite face and off into another direction. One that just happened to have Emerald, who had taken a moment out of a duel with Blake to _stare_ at Raven for some reason, in its path. The green-haired girl barely leapt out of the way of the laser in time.

“Master!” Caster cried. She glared at Raven and thrust out her hands, blasting the maiden back with a sudden squall of wind. “You cur!”

Normally, Qrow would be inclined to agree with that statement, but recently it seemed as if his sister was actually being helpful for once. Between having Berserker protect them from Lancer Alter, using her maiden abilities to let him and Oz back into the school, her lieutenant engaging Weiss Alter out of the corner of his eye and, most especially, _not_ taking the opportunity to shoot him in the back just now, it seemed that she actually was serious about her offer of alliance, at least temporarily. Like she said, a Salem controlled Haven was good for no one.

But that couldn’t be all there was to it. He knew his sister and, as much as it pained him, the person she had become would never put all their cards on the table like she’d claimed to have done. She was planning something. It might not have been a double cross, or what she saw as a double cross, but there was definitely more to her plan. He just wished he could figure out what it was.

“You should pay more attention to the battle, Caster.” Diarmuid reprimanded. His speed had allowed him to close the distance during Raven’s intrusion. Now, he leapt through the air, his twin spears poised to strike.

A web of light swarmed around Caster’s fingertips. She thrust her hands out just as Lancer came down on her. The Knight of Fianna was encased in a pink sphere of energy, completely frozen in midair.

However, his crimson spear glowed bright a moment later and the orb shattered. Diarmuid shot forward to continue his strike but the brief delay had allowed Caster time to regain her distance.

“Truly a very interesting toy, Lancer.” the witch spat, raising an accusatory finger. “But perhaps you should pay more attention to your own master.” She pointed away at the lecture classroom across the broken hall…

Where _Ilia_ was dueling Watts.

If Qrow was a less experienced huntsman, he would have smirked. As it was, he just sent a mental thank you to Archer for thinking up the idea. While Salem’s forces would know that Lancer had survived Adam’s death as soon as they spotted their approach, they wouldn’t have any way of knowing who his new master was.  A quick trip to the bazaar for a makeup kit later and a set of crimson ‘Command Seals’ were painted on the back Ilia’s hand, while Blake’s skin was meticulously unblemished. The cat faunus had protested putting a target on her friend’s back, but Ilia had insisted on the plan, wanting to do anything she could to protect Blake and Lancer.

Unfortunately, that meant that Salem’s lieutenant had gone straight for her instead of the huntress. The spindly man didn’t look like much, but Ilia was panting hard while his suit didn’t even seem to be ruffled.

Lancer’s face widened with panic. He thankfully turned towards the chameleon faunus despite his honor, but he still looked like he was about to charge in.

“Stay on her!” Qrow called. “I’ll help the squirt!”

Lancer spared him a glance, but quickly nodded and returned to Caster. The two resumed their dance of spear and spell.

Raven fluttered over to him and Ozpin, her eyes frantically scanning the ruined school. “Where’s Lionheart?”

“He’s around here somewhere,” Qrow growled. “What happened with Lancelot?”

“I don’t know.” Raven professed, clenching her head in pain. “He saw that black beam in the sky and suddenly he was howling like a Beowulf. He hasn’t been this bad since… well never, not even back in our war. He’s not listening.”

“Then use a freaking Command Seal!”

“Wait!” Ozpin intervened. “That darkness, if he was set off by it… yes… our allies may need him more than we do.”

Qrow cocked his eyebrows incredulously, but Ilia’s screams pulled him away before he could protest. Apparently, Watts had thrown her through the one trophy case they hadn’t already smashed.

“You two find Lionheart,” he commanded. “I’ve got the newbie.”

Ozpin nodded. “Good luck, old friend.”

Raven stared at him blankly for a moment. Finally, she smirked, for once not unkindly. “Try not to die, brother.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You too.”

He dashed away down the hall.

Ilia curled her whip above her head and lashed out at the enemy. The steel cord crackled with yellow sparks.

Watts smirked and held up his right hand. Then… his finger shot out?

Qrow had to blink to make sure he wasn’t imagining it, but his eyes were not deceiving him. Watts’ index finger split into multiple steel segments and snapped out like a cut piano string. The gray line entangled Ilia’s whip, its electricity harmlessly bouncing off the false skin. With strength that shouldn’t have been possible from such a thin man, Watts disarmed the White Fang operative with a single tug.

The extended finger went rigid and straight, immediately receding back into the scientist’s hand. In the time it took him to flash a cocky smirk, the steel appendage lanced out to impale his young opponent.

Fortunately, Qrow arrived just in time to put Harbinger in the path of the strike.

Ilia sighed in relief. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Qrow nodded. “Go help Vernal with the princess.”

“What? We can take this guy together.”

“Trust me, kid. Fighting next to me is not a good idea.” Qrow insisted. “Go.”

Whether it was the steel in his voice or her experience with commanding officers that did it, Ilia didn’t question him again and dashed off into a ruined lecture hall to help Raven’s lieutenant. Which left him with the mad doctor.

Watts chuckled at him. “Well, Rider did insist that if I wanted you dead I should do it myself.”

“Didn’t realize I was so popular among the Alters.”

“Wrong Rider,” Watts informed him with a sigh. “If he’d only let Siegfried kill you when he had the chance.”

Qrow’s eyes went wide. Siegfried had been the Saber who’d killed Robin Hood. He’d been forced by his master to try and kill him and Tai even afterward. Only Achilles’ interference had saved them. And this guy…

“You were a master in the last war.”

Watts smirked. “The Queen was impressed by my efforts and offered me her patronage.”

“Did she do that to your finger?”

“Nonsense. Who do you think designed the technology for Ironwood’s prosthetics? Or that doll he was playing with at the Vytal Festival?” His finger extended out, slithering before him like a snake for a charmer. “I saw no reason not to give myself a slight upgrade.”

Qrow scowled. He pulled Harbinger’s trigger and shifted it into scythe form. With the walls wrecked, he had the room to use it, and something told him he’d need his best weapon for this.

“It’s going to take more than a finger to beat me.”

Watts held out his hands. Every single finger he had split into segmented sections, with even his palms opening to reveal cybernetics. Sapphire lightning crackled between the steel plates.

For what felt like the umpteenth time in his life, Qrow cursed his semblance.

 

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****

Archer pulled Ruby back to her feet. Once he’d confirmed she was alright, he fervently looked over the rest of their party. Nora pulled up Jaune and Ren while Mordred and Nicholas attended to the Arc sisters, who lacking aura were far more disoriented by the shockwave. Still, they were better off than the mob of civilians on the path to the docks who had nearly been knocked unconscious by the surge. Those who managed to remain awake quickly remembered the invasion sirens that had been going off and went right back to panicking.

Excalibur, for even black and corrupted Archer would never mistake that light, had made quite the impact. The party had been close to the docks, ready to see the Arc family off to safety, when the blast had torn into the sky, obliterating the city energy dome and bringing a sizable section of its fortress wall down as it went.

Saber Alter had arrived. And disregarding the mess of emotions that brought up in Archer and many of the others in their group, they didn’t have time to mull on them. The black sky beam and the resultant dust cloud had been maybe a mile from their position. At this range, the King of Knights would sense his and Mordred’s power and head straight for them. The fact that there were more problems than that was just poisonous icing on the cake.

Nora stared brokenly at the disintegrated defense. “The… the wall… the shield…”

“It’s just like Vale.” Ren murmured.

The chaotic screams of the Mistralian populace certainly agreed. If Lionheart had told the truth about the attacks the kingdom had suffered during the Fall of Beacon, then the people remembered all too vividly what the Grimm could do when their defenses were whole. With a sizable and very public hole now present, they were all now exuding the very same terror that would draw the creatures of darkness to the city in droves.

Above them, police bullheads and airships mobilized for the breach, but without huntsmen on the ground, there would only be so much they could do. If any Grimm got past their initial barrages, they would surge through the kingdom and slaughter hundreds.

“No,” Ruby growled, her silver eyes glaring at the broken wall. “This isn’t going to be like Vale. “Ren, Nora, head to the breach. The kingdom should have turrets to cover the Nevermores and Griffons but if any Grimm get through on the ground everyone will be in danger.”

“Are you crazy?” Jade yelled. “There’s only two of them! There’s got be thousands of Grimm coming for the city!”

“They can use the breach as a chokepoint,” Jaune assured his sister. Still, his eyes fluttered with terrified worry for his teammates. “Guys, I know I shouldn’t ask you to do this, but—”

“Oh, forget it, fearless leader.” Nora interrupted. “You’re not asking us to do anything we didn’t sign up for in the first place. We’re huntsmen. Saving people from Grimm is what we do.”

Ren nodded, a determined grin on his normally stoic face. “We’ll do what we can. None of them will get through.”

Nora punched her palm, a bloodthirsty smirk spread and ready. “We’ll break all their legs.”

“I guess I better go too,” Nicholas said reluctantly, stepping forward with Excalibur and Avalon at his side.

“What?” Hazel gasped.

“Dad, you can’t!” Sapphire protested.

Nicholas gave them his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “I have to. Like they said, saving people from the Grimm is what huntsmen do.”

“Well… yeah…” Nora frowned, not nearly as excited anymore. “But I didn’t mean it like that.”

Amber ran up to Nicholas and wrapped her arms tight around her father’s waist. “Daddy, no! You said you wouldn’t go! You said you’d still be here!”

Nicholas did his best not to cry as he gingerly tore his youngest from his body. He was resigned to his duty, to do the right thing. It was admirable.

But as Archer could attest from experience, it would probably bite him in the ass. That simply wouldn’t do.

“In the event of a full-scale Grimm assault, it is a huntsman’s duty to escort endangered civilians to secure police checkpoints and, if so requested by kingdom officials, remain to guard said evacuation areas.” Archer recited. Upon everyone’s blank stares, he shrugged. “I guessed. Most worlds with some kind of paramilitary force tend to have similar guidelines. By the look on your faces, I’d say I’m correct. Team JNPR will handle the chokepoint. You get your children to safety and protect anyone else who gets the safe area.”

The Arc sisters looked at him like he was a saint before turning anxiously to their father. Nicholas Arc stared at him blankly for a moment before nodding gratefully. “Right from the manual. Might have missed a few subsections, but I slept through those classes anyway.”

Archer smirked. “Shameful. I would have expected better from an Arc.”

Nicholas laughed. “So did my father. Kicked my ass until I could stay awake through the whole thing.” He toned down his exaggerated mirth and smiled softly at the Servant of the Bow. “Thank you, Archer.”

Archer responded with a curt nod. He hadn’t interacted much with the Arc patriarch, mostly because he intentionally avoided him, but from what he’d seen he was a good man. A good… husband and a good father who’d raised five children to noble adulthood (seven if he counted Jaune and Lavender), with Amber well on her way to following them. He was the one Saber had chosen, and though the man was far from perfect, he could safely say she’d chosen well. However he felt about that, he would safeguard that choice with all he had.

“Alright, everyone set with the good plan? Okay? Okay!” Nora grinned. “Guess we’re off.”

“Wait,” Mordred shouted.

She grabbed Nora’s hand in a firm shake. A surge of crimson lightning sparked from her body and flowed through the huntress’ arm, lighting her aura a violent pink and making her wag her tongue.

“That was a smaller dose than you got at Oniyuri. You won’t be as powerful, but it also won’t run out your muscles as quickly.” Mordred explained, a worried frown across her mouth. “Stay safe, my lady.”

“Aw, Mor-Mor. I love it!”

Nora engulfed Mordred in a massive hug that, while the Knight of Treachery did not return it, she did not argue against either.

Jaune and Ruby went over to Ren and the three engaged in a more mutual exchange. The green-robed huntsmen received hugs from both his friends and then joined up with his partner.

Who… promptly tossed him on her back.

“Hold on, Ren. It’s _my_ turn to be the noble steed!”

The poor man’s eyes barely had time to widen before the pair took off for the breach, a trail of pink lightning following behind.

Archer looked to his master. “Ruby, your scythe.”

The red hooded girl pulled out Crescent Rose and handed it to him. “Are you ready to modify it?”

“No.” he admitted. His magic circuits flared with turquoise power. “But we don’t exactly have any more time, do we?”

His eyes closed shut as his Reality Marble worked its way into the weapon, making and unmaking the steel at a metaphysical level. His mind flashed through his previous attempts, ensuring that he didn’t repeat the same mistakes.

_Judging the concept of creation._

_Hypothesizing the basic structure._

_Duplicating the composition material._

Not too difficult. Ruby had gladly shared stories of her baby’s creation, and the structure was not anything more than one would expect from a combination scythe and sniper rifle. The materials were of exceptional quality, but not unseen in the expanse of his Reality Marble.

_Imitating skill of its making._

_Sympathizing with the experience of its growth._

_Reproducing the accumulated years._

Flashes of static stabbed his mind, but he pushed on. He had a theory on the mysterious interference that prevented him from tracing Ruby’s experience, but he could not let that stop him. Instead, he used his own time with her, those precious few months of this war. Time that Archer could not help but think were the best months he’d had in a very long time.

_Excelling every manufacturing process._

All Ruby’s late-night lessons on firearm mechanics flooded in at once. The trigger, hammer, chamber, and barrel flooded into one, fitting into place like the pieces of a puzzle. Honestly, he felt a little silly for not being able to figure it all out sooner. If he remembered this when he returned to the Throne, perhaps he could finally figure out how to expand his Reality Marble to firearms.

But that was neither here nor there. For now, he didn’t need to create a gun, just modify one.

“ _Trace on_!”

Just like that, he felt it. The firing pin slid in like the icing on a cake, the final keystone in the arch.

Archer smirked. He opened Crescent Rose with a flourish, unveiling the scythe with an admittedly indulgent twirl. “One Origin Round capable weapon at your service.”

Despite the smoke in the air and the panic surrounding them, Ruby couldn’t help but squeal. She jetted over with her semblance and snatched up her beloved. “I love it! Thank you, Archer!”

The Counter Guardian chuckled before turning back to Nicholas. “You all should get going. Saber Alter could be here any minute.”

The Arcs that knew the Alter’s identity gulped in dread.

“Come on everyone,” Sapphire ordered. “Let’s move.”

“Jaune, Mordred.” Lavender called. “Be safe.”

“If you two die before we get stories of King Mom getting pranked by Sir Dinadan, we’re gonna be pissed,” Hazel called.

“She also means be safe.” Sable translated.

Jaune chuckled. “I spent seventeen years with you guys. You think I don’t know what you mean?”

Jade shrugged. “We don’t know. You’ve been gone a while.”

Coral nodded. “Also, you’re dumb.”

Mordred snorted in laughter while Jaune’s head fell into his hands.

The Arcs gathered their scattered bags and started trudging away to the docks.

Jaune brought his head up. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Kill the pretender.” Mordred declared immediately.

Jaune turned to Archer. “Any specific plans?”

Archer hummed in thought. “Saber is one of the deadliest Servants in the Throne. If she has been augmented as you say, we’ll have our work cut out for us. However, we should be able to do it together. If you three keep her pressured on her front, I will be able to flank her and—”

The _prana_ spike appeared behind him instantaneously. Not having recently arrived, but manifesting out of nowhere, as if it had always been there and he just hadn’t sensed it. Fortunately, it wasn’t high enough to be Saber Alter.

Unfortunately, that meant he knew exactly who it was.

His Reality Marble flared instantly. The hoplon of King Leonidas flashed into existence in front of Ruby, the girl’s eyes going wide as a hail of submachine gun fire battered against the bronze shield.

Whatever civilians remained in the area fled in terror when they heard the gunfire. The Arc family, still not far enough away, turned back and gasped.

“Don’t stop!” Jaune shouted. “We’ve got this!”

Archer certainly hoped they did.

He whirled around, Kanshou and Bakuya appearing in his hands as he sighted Kiritsugu Emiya atop a nearby roof, his Calico keeping a barrage of lead raining down on their group. As soon as he saw Archer’s weapons in hand, he shifted his aim to the Servant of the Bow.

A streak of crimson lightning surged forward. Mordred, fully armored, leapt into the air, snarling before the assassin. Kiritsugu blurred away just as she brought Clarent down on the house like a hammer, cleaving the rooftop in two.

Kiritsugu landed on an adjacent building and fired off a burst from his Calico at the Knight of Treachery. The low caliber bullets bounced off Mordred’s thick armor like bee stings, not doing any damage, but aggravating the Saber nonetheless.

“What’s wrong, Assassin?” Mordred snarled. “Your toys not enough to take on an actual Servant? A hero should know better than to attack a master from behind!”

Mordred charged again, her aura of lightning obliterating Assassin’s perch.

Again though, Kiritsugu was gone before she could strike, his movements easily outpacing even Mordred’s impressive speed. He raised another gun, this one far heavier than the last, and fired straight at her head.

The Knight of Treachery didn’t even bother trying to dodge, assured that the man’s arsenal could not penetrate her defenses.

Archer knew better.

“Saber, move!”

Amazingly, she heard him, and even more amazingly, she listened. One Prana Burst and she jetted back to Jaune’s side, a bloody hole in her shoulder instead of her head.

“Saber, are you alright?” Jaune asked.

“Fine, master.”

She would be. It had taken a holy spear to slay Mordred in life and that durability was reflected in her Battle Continuation skill. Even if the Origin Round had stuck her heart, she would have still been able to keep going for a bit, with only a wound to her head killing her instantly. Fortunately, the Contender was an anti-mage weapon, and wouldn’t do any extra damage to someone without magic circuits or aura. If it had been Caster or Archer himself who had been struck, they would have been goners.

Still, Kiritsugu Emiya’s speed was unfathomable. Archer knew about the Time Alter magic he had used in life, but he hadn’t imagined what that power could do with a far more durable body to support it. He’d made Mordred, enhanced by Prana Burst, look like an amateur.

An Assassin Servant wasn’t normally made for direct combat with other Servants. Their skillsets and strategies generally led them to focus on eliminating the masters directly. And with Kiritsugu’s speed and the proximity of Ruby and Jaune, there was little doubt he would target them if the opportunity presented itself. With his speed, there was no guarantee he and Mordred could intercede in time.

But if Kirei’s Command Seal was what he thought it was, there was a way he could remove the threat from them. In exchange for increasing the danger to himself.

Archer traced his bow and leapt up to a rooftop on the other side of the street. He traced three simple arrows, aimed and fired at the other side. One after the other, Kiritsugu dashed away from them, each bolt obliterating a house every time it landed. But despite avoiding all the backlash and having only Mordred between him and the masters, the assassin didn’t go for them. Instead, he jumped up to one final rooftop, taller than the rest, and stared straight at Archer.

For a moment, they both just stood there. Father and son, resolute warriors surrounded by the screams of a doomed city, ready to throw themselves into the fire once more. Truly, they were heroes of justice.

And if the will of their enemy came to pass, they would fight to the death.

“Archer!” Ruby called, gazing up at him with worried silver eyes.

“Don’t worry, master. I’ll take care of this,” he assured her. “Everything is going to be fine.”

He would not allow Kirei Kotomine to make him a player in his game. His father would not take his life and he would not slay him in turn. He was going to save him.

It would not be a simple task. There was a reason Caster didn’t go around waving Rule Breaker in a fight. The dagger was an abysmal weapon against the most incompetent opponent, being short, brittle, and blunt. He couldn’t modify it or extract its properties either, since the weapon’s very nature as the ultimate Anti-Thaumaturgy Noble Phantasm nullified any upgrades his Reality Marble tried to make. Against an opponent of Kiritsugu’s speed, it would be practically impossible to land a blow.

Fortunately, _that boy_ had specialized in the impossible. If he could do it, why not Archer? The Wrought Iron Hero wasn’t out of tricks yet.

 _Bah_. Ruby really had rubbed off on him.

“Let’s go, old man,” Archer shouted to Kiritsugu, a playful smirk on his face. “Time to see which dog has the better bite.”

Assassin’s head was concealed by his red hood, but Archer caught his knuckles tight around both his guns.

Archer loaded three more arrows into his bow and leapt backwards into the air, firing as he flew. Kiritsugu dashed across the street as the building he had stood upon exploded.

Father and Son charged deep into the city, the fools who tread the path of heroism ready to meet their fate alone.

 

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Ruby frowned as Archer and Assassin took off for the city, explosions following them all the way.

“Is he going to be okay?” Jaune asked.

“Maybe.” Mordred shrugged, worry creasing her face. She groaned as she flexed her shot shoulder. “That bastard… he’s fast. Faster than me, maybe even faster than Lancer Alter. I barely even saw him move. But if anyone can pull out some last-minute trinket to take him, it’s Jester.”

Ruby wasn’t so sure. Archer couldn’t manifest his Reality Marble without giving Assassin an impossible to miss target. And even then, if any of his projections took a direct hit from an Origin Round, it would annihilate him all the same.

Crescent Rose suddenly felt very heavy in her hands. It was frightening, but she supposed it was better she had the Origin Rounds than just Assassin and Kirei. Still, it was off-putting, now being capable of the same destructive power that had put her father on death’s door and now endangered her uncle.

Archer had prevailed against foes who physically outclassed him before, but then he had always been fighting to kill. He wasn’t now. A serious Archer would never mock Kiritsugu by referencing their mutual employment as Alaya’s dogs. Which left one option, a Noble Phantasm he had mentioned to her when discussing Caster. She didn’t know how well it would work on a moving target, but there was nothing she could do either way.  If she was right about Kirei’s Command Seal, that he had ordered Assassin to fight Archer to the death with intention to kill, then it would only be detrimental for her to join the fight. Assassin’s instincts were to go after the softest target, and if Archer was close by when they fought, then he’d go for her without a second thought, the Command Seal compelling his best efforts. By taking himself away, requiring Assassin to follow so as to ‘fight’ him, he had gotten them out of danger.

They would have to leave the fight to him. Assuming Saber Alter came for Mordred, they had a very angry King of Knights to prepare for. With any luck, between Mordred, Jaune’s semblance, and her eyes, they would be able to deal with her even without Archer’s support, or at least hold her off until he hopefully won his duel with Assassin.

They had to. The strike team at Haven had probably already begun their attack, so no help was coming from there. Yang and Rider were still on their way back. Mistral was in flames and the Grimm hadn’t even arrived yet. They were all there was. That had to stop her.

They would.

“Dad!”

Ruby, Jaune, and Mordred all whirled when they heard Sapphire’s scream. Nicholas had Excalibur drawn, the holy blade slouching at his side, smoke reeling of the sanctified steel. Embedded in the dirt next to him was a single golden short sword, a slight dent showing in the hilt from where Excalibur had deflected it. It disappeared into a shower of golden sparks.

Ruby’s eyes widened in terror. She didn’t recognize the sword, it looked no different than anyone of thousands she’d seen.

But she recognized the gold. She saw the gold every time she closed her eyes and remembered the nightmare at Beacon.

“Well, it seems you are not wholly lacking.”

Everyone turned to the sound of the flat, unamused voice. Atop one of the only streetlamps that had survived the skirmish with Assassin, stood a familiar blond man in radiant golden armor, his red eyes gazing down upon every person present with resigned judgment.

“Still, the law is quite clear on your fate, no matter your worth. You and all Saber’s bastards.”

Gilgamesh snapped his fingers. A quartet of shimmering golden portals opened behind him, a different majestic, brilliant, and _lethal_ weapon edging out of each one.

“Begone.”


	59. Four Kings, Two Knights, One Hercules

Everything happened so fast.

Mordred started moving as soon as she saw the golden portals open, power emanating off them in such quantity that she would have known they were dangerous even if Jaune hadn’t told her about the events at Beacon. She ignored the dull ache in her shoulder and blasted forward, crimson lightning surging from Clarent as she charged.

She landed before the Arcs just before Gilgamesh’s barrage struck. Her sword flashed through the air and deflected three of the launched Noble Phantasms. But the fourth impacted the ground right in front of her, forcing her to stumble back a few feet to regain her footing and sending up a sizable cloud of dust.

“Mordred?” Sable asked worriedly, fear evident in her voice.

“Get away from here,” she hissed back to her sister. She refocused her grip on Clarent, bearing her blade for battle. “We’ll cover your escape.”

“What about you?” Jade shouted.

“I’ll be fine,” Mordred yelled. “Just go!”

The smoke cleared, and the Knight of Treachery refocused on her opponent, an involuntary shiver rippling down her spine.

She’d heard a lot about Gilgamesh from the others. Jaune, Ruby, Archer, Qrow, the fake Merlin, whoever talked about him only ever did so with the gravest tones, sure that while Salem was the gravest threat to the world, the King of Heroes was the most dangerous foe they could encounter. Iskandar, Karna, even her father, the Heroic Spirits that had reportedly fallen against him were some of the mightiest in the Throne.

Now, gazing up at the golden king, his crimson eyes sneering down at her not with the irritation of a new obstacle, but with cold disdain that anyone would be foolish enough to try to stop his inevitable will, she could appreciate their trepidation. This man was neither the glorious paragon her father had been nor a malicious brute like the false kings she’d fought against as a member of the Round Table. He was a constant, assured not that he could take whatever he wanted, but that everything was already his. A pillar of a world that was not good, evil, fair, or cruel, simply existing as it was.

Despite the danger, despite the terror that slid through her veins deeper even than the ice she’d felt before Camlann, Mordred couldn’t help but smirk.

If this man was a pillar of the world, then it was her duty as the Knight of Rebellion to topple him. Or at the very least keep him from hurting those she cared about.

Gilgamesh frowned at her presence. “Ah, the original disgrace. Assassin mentioned you were here, mongrel. Though I admit, I am surprised you would aid your siblings given your history with their sire. Have you relearned loyalty in your second life, Knight of Treachery, or do you simply desire to be the one to kill them yourself?”

Behind her, she noted Amber helping Lavender to her feet, the poor girl coughing madly from the previous dust. Still, Hazel and Coral gazed back at her, terror of Gilgamesh evident but also tinged with confusion. “Mordred,” Coral inquired softly, her normally sharp tone shaken with fright, “what’s he talking about?”

“Nothing important,” Jaune declared immediately. He arrived next to Mordred, Crocea Mors out as a sword and shield. “He just loves hearing himself talk.”

Gilgamesh’s eyes lit up with crimson fury about sighting the boy. “Bastard. So, you are this mongrel’s master. How fitting that Saber’s first murderer should be summoned by her second. I shall take great pleasure in delivering the king’s justice unto you both.”

“Wow!” Nicholas Arc exclaimed. The huntsman came forward to stand on Mordred’s opposite side. “You know, I didn’t believe Arturia when she said you didn’t know how to shut up. I thought for sure the King of the World had to have at least a single ounce of tact in his body. But no, I should have known better than to doubt her. You’re just as much of a blowhard as she said.”

“Mongrel,” Gilgamesh hissed. “You dare speak as such to a monarch? When you have stolen such a magnificent treasure from me?”

“I didn’t take anything that wasn’t freely offered. As I understand, you didn’t even get that far, with the offering _or_ the taking.”

The number of golden portals surrounding Gilgamesh quadrupled. Each one produced a different radiant weapon, some Mordred recognized like Scottish Claymores and Nordic Axes, others that were so exotic they must have come from the most obscure of lands. But all of them were lethal to the utmost, without a doubt.

“Insects,” Gilgamesh spat. “Perish and relieve this world of your stain.”

Sixteen golden bullets, each one a genuine Noble Phantasm, came crashing down, a shining hail to shutter the blood of Arthur. Mordred moved as fast as she could, but she wasn’t sure if she, Jaune, and Nicholas could block them all.

Fortunately, there was one more member of their party who had yet to join the fray.

Rose petals whipped through the storm of gold, a silver scythe lancing out and knocking half the wave from the sky. Mordred reached out and slashed four more out of the air, with her brother and stepfather taking two each, though they were both driven back, with Jaune even having to take a knee after the second ax struck his shield.

Ruby skidded as she landed on the ground, her eyes aglow with silver light feeding into her weapon. She dashed forward and triggered her semblance once more, disappearing in a shower of rose petals. She jetted through the air, swirling around Gilgamesh like a crimson tornado.

In the blink of an eye, she was behind and above the King of Heroes, Crescent Rose raised high to strike. She slashed for the golden monarch’s throat.

A portal ejecting a golden spear in her path halted her assault but, even deflected, her silver light bled through the strike. It tore through the air and snapped the javelin like a twig.

Gilgamesh’s yellow eyebrow twitched at his treasure’s destruction. Five more portals appeared above Ruby and each one unleashed a barrage of Noble Phantasms.

The red hooded huntress’ eyes widened. She brought her scythe up to meet the oncoming onslaught.

“Ruby!” Jaune yelled.

Gold met silver, and the air exploded. A colossal gale of dust and smog erupted from the point of impact. Gilgamesh stood unfazed by the rush of wind. When the streetlight he stood upon swayed under the strain, he casually hopped to the ruined wall of a similarly sized house as the pole tumbled down.

Ruby was not so lucky. She fell to the ground like a meteorite, skidding across the dirt until finally tumbling to a halt, her face and clothes scuffed and spotted with soot. The red hooded girl clutched her stomach and groaned, her aura flickering weakly but holding. Scraps of red and black metal rained down around her, the sizzling steel sparking across the mud.

The final gasp of Crescent Rose. A weapon without a legend could only meet a Noble Phantasm so many times before shattering, and the sniper scythe had been struck by many. In the end, even with Ruby’s eyes bolstering, it just couldn’t survive the impact, even if it could protect its loyal master one last time.

Mordred would probably spare the polearm more thought if she wasn’t more worried the same thing would be happening to her family very soon.

Gilgamesh stared at Ruby for a brief moment, his gaze arrogant and scathing as usual but this time tinged with a hint of… curiosity? Whatever it was, he soon turned back to the Arc clan with an irritated scoff. “How disappointing. After Beacon, I’d thought… no matter. Such is the fate of all who dare raise their arms against the king.”

“Bastard!” Jaune screamed.

Another rain of gold answered his yell.

Mordred blurred as fast as she could, Clarent roaring like a furious lion, bolts of crimson lightning catching the blades her steel could not—Ah! Shit!

A curved blade, probably some Arab scimitar, broke through her guard. The golden sword rammed through her armor and impaled her left thigh, driving her down to one knee. Nicholas and Jaune tried to pick up the slack, but they simply didn’t have the same strength she did, strength that was necessary to deflect the ruthless bombardment. She could return to the fight with but a moment to recover, but there was no guarantee that one of them would not falter in that moment.

It turned out that Nicholas was that one.

The Arc patriarch whipped up Excalibur to deflect a pair of blades aimed at Jaune’s exposed side and Mordred’s head, but the force of the missiles ripped the holy sword from his grasp.

Mordred moved to compensate, to shield him long enough for him to recover the legendary blade, but the golden hail fell too quickly, striking like lightning now that there was an opening.

The first blade shattered his aura like cardboard. The second smashed into his side and nearly tore off his entire torso. The huntsmen tumbled to the ground and floundered like a dying fish.

Mordred couldn’t tell which sister screamed. Probably all of them.

“Dad!” Amber wailed. The young girl tried to rush forward to her father’s fallen form, but fortunately, Coral stumbled forward and held her little sister back, even as tears poured from her own eyes. “Dad! No! Coral, let me go! Dad! _Daddy_!”

Jaune’s stood stock still, his eyes locked on his father’s gurgling form, blood rising from his lips. The huntsmen barely moved, only the buckling of his shield against the Gate of Babylon keeping him from freezing up entirely.

Mordred hissed, terror flooding through her. Archer was occupied with Assassin, Ruby and her silver eyes were down, and Nicholas would be dead in a minute. She and Jaune were barely surviving against Gilgamesh’s onslaught and the golden king hadn’t even shown the slightest signs of effort. He just kept a satisfied smirk on his face, his arsenal raining down to do the slaughter for him.

He would kill them. It wasn’t his plan, it was a fact. He was too powerful. Mordred knew she was strong, but this… it wasn’t even strength. It was death, imperious and delivered without meaning, delivered at a distance with only the barest recognition of what was being done. It was not murder from the King of Heroes' viewpoint. It was extermination, as necessary and natural as breathing, as if death had no weight but how much it amused him.

He would kill her family.

He would kill _her_ family.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

“Run!” she screamed back to her siblings. She unleashed a tempest of scarlet lightning and sent it screaming towards Gilgamesh. “Run, now!”

Despite the despair, Sapphire and Sable recognized the scant opening and rallied the girls away, racing towards the docks, Coral pulling Amber along even as the young girl sobbed.

Gilgamesh opened another portal and neutralized Mordred’s attack without even acknowledging the electricity. He chuckled at the Arc sisters’ retreat. “Run? Come now, mongrel. Where are they going to go?”

Mordred’s eyes widened in panic when she realized her error. She whirled around and gaped in horror.

Even as the Arc sisters charged down the road, a wall of shimmering gold blocked their path. They screeched to a halt as a menagerie of weapons inched out of the openings.

“No!” Jaune yelled. “No, please!”

“Be silent bastard,” Gilgamesh reprimanded. “This brings me no joy. Unlike you two, there is beauty to be found in them. But Saber’s sins creating them still defy the law. And the law is absolute. Let them at least die in dignity.”

“Fuck your law!” Jade screeched in desperate fury.

There was probably more after that, last defiant declarations and all that. But she didn’t hear any of them. She was too busy trying to save them.

She activated her Prana Burst at full power, shoving every ounce of magical energy she could into her movement. She whirled around and made a beeline for them, desperately trying to get between them and the portals before them, take the blow if she had to. She couldn’t let them die, she wouldn’t!

But she couldn’t make it. The Gate of Babylon followed her every step, hounding her with a continuous barrage of ancient weapons, forcing her to swerve and weave instead of making a straight shot for them, costing her crucial seconds.

The Gate before them fired. Sapphire and Sable got in front of them all and covered the sisters as the golden projectiles streaked towards them.

**Burst Air!**

A typhoon of black _prana_ erupted from the decimated city. The dark wind spiraled around the Arc sisters and smashed the oncoming volley, scattering the golden weapons like fireworks. Each one exploded when it struck the surrounding each or tore through one of the few still standing houses.

But after that, everything was silent. The distance howls of Grimm fighting the defenders of Mistral in the distance was but mere garbled background noise in the face of this deafening absence. Even Gilgamesh halted his assault.

“Mo—Mommy?” Amber whimpered disbelievingly, terror still etched on her face.

Saber Alter strode into the clearing, dark fury and simmering wrath radiating off her in waves. She spared Amber the briefest of glances, though she made an attempt to have a soft smile for its short duration. “It’s alright, sweetie. I’m here now.”

Amber’s fear didn’t abate. Instead, she stared at the black knight with trepidatious awe and fright.

“Sapphire,” Saber Alter called. “Get your sisters to an evacuation point. The Nevermores have orders to steer clear of the one near the docks.”

“Uh… right,” Sapphire stuttered, her gaze locked on the demon who had her mother’s face, who’d even just saved her as her mother would have, and yet still felt so instinctually, unarguably _wrong_. “Come on guys. Let’s go!”

The elder sisters snapped out of their trances rather quickly, but the younger ones, those that had not been told about Saber Alter stood stock still. “Sapphire,” Lavender murmured, “how is mom here?”

“Lavender!” Saber Alter commanded. “Listen to your sister. Get out of here!”

Whatever confusion lingered over the sisters evaporated instantly, the familiar voice’s orders galvanizing them into action. Mordred couldn’t blame them for being stunned over the course of the fight. Running with Gilgamesh’s barrage active would have been dangerous to the extreme, and even beyond that, it was little surprise that they had been paralyzed with terror. They had never seen Servants battle before, the power of legends was as entrancing as it was awe inspiring.

Once they had evacuated the area, Saber Alter strode over to Nicholas. Jaune didn’t even have the sense to move, but fortunately, the imposter simply knelt next to his father.

A gentle hand caressed the huntsman’s face, a tear trickling down the black knight’s mask. “Valiant as always Nicholas. But I did warn you what would happen if you insulted him. Granted, he no doubt deserved every word.”

The imposter choked on every word, broken emotion emanating from her eulogy. It was almost enough to convince Mordred that she was genuine. But it could not be. Father could never be corrupted.

Saber Alter’s eyes flickered down to Nicholas’ waist. She gasped. “Where… Where did you get… Haha, you always were a lucky one, my dear.”

Her hand glided down to the huntsman’s belt and tapped a single finger over Avalon. Wisps of black _prana_ seeped down into the scabbard. The divine sheath remained unblemished, but it did respond with a warm golden glow.

Nicholas’ eyes flashed open, he took in a deep, desperate breath. He panted as his blue eyes flickered about, finally resting on Saber Alter. “Sa—Saber?”

The Alter chuckled. “Really Nicholas, I leave you alone for a few months and you’re dead on the ground.” She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

The Arc patriarch tried to move, but he coughed up a clot of blood before he could get anywhere.

“Don’t move,” Saber Alter commanded. “I don’t know how you obtained my scabbard, but it will take it a bit longer than usual to process the Queen’s _prana_. It still flows through me, so it will accept it, but it is still a holy relic. Healing with corrupted magical energy is not its specialty.”

Mordred’s mouth gaped openly as black tendrils snared out from Avalon, stitching Nicholas Arc back together like some ramshackle science experiment.

That… That was impossible. The scabbard shouldn’t have accepted the pretender’s power. It allowed only one to give it strength, even denying her and Jaune. No one but father could galvanize the Everdistant Utopia. And this imposter couldn’t be… she couldn’t be… father would never…

But what if…

Saber Alter rose to her feet. Her knuckles tightened on her black sword, dark mist riving around her armored form like a feral dragon rising from hell.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet, King of Heroes,” she spat. “If I am the cause, then I shall consider such a labor my greatest achievement.”

The moment the words left Saber Alter’s mouth, an unfathomable surge of killing intent flooded the air like the torrent that tested Noah’s Ark so long ago. Even though she was not the target of the rampant ire, Mordred couldn’t help but shudder in fright.

“You _dare_ ,” Gilgamesh hissed, his entire form shaking with brilliant fury greater than the sun’s inferno. “I could have forgiven your infidelity had it only been with a mere lover. The law would demand his death, but you Saber, you would have been forgiven, as your beauty insisted. But this? You have permitted your very core to be corroded. Your return would have pleased me if you had not allowed yourself to be broken by someone other than your _king_! You are meant to wade through the muck and filth of existence eternal, never allowing yourself to be stained! Yet you have succumbed, without my consent!”

The golden king’s shouts quieted, his crimson eyes shadowed in focus. The sky above them disappeared, replaced by a river of rippling gateways. Mordred moved fast, crimson lightning rushing around her as she grabbed Nicholas and Ruby and dashed away, Jaune right behind her.

“This sin cannot be forgiven, Saber,” Gilgamesh declared, his voice soft and dripping with regret. “You are no longer my treasure. Let death purify this wretched taint.”

Dozens of Noble Phantasms shot down towards the black knight, as if a layer of the sky itself plummeted to exterminate her.

Darkness gathered around Saber Alter’s form, coalescing into an impenetrable night that saw fit to intrude even on an already hellish day.  The condensed sin surged through the Servant’s weapon and the corrupted warrior unleashed it in a single furious swing of her demonic Excalibur. The golden weapons scattered like snow in the wind.

The vicious blast carried forward towards the Archer who’d tempted it. The King of Heroes scowled in disgust as he leapt off his elevation, the brick crumbling to dust under the force of the Alter’s strike.

Saber Alter raised her weapon at her foe, the black blade’s smog curdling with bloodlust like the fang of a hungry dragon. “Your words bring nothing but relief, you monstrous cur. I would never kneel to be the _treasure_ of such a despicable tyrant! This sword, this sin, it is the power that even you were too black to claim and it is the power that will _end_ you! The Queen has sworn it and it shall be done!”

“A queen? End me? Ha!” Gilgamesh snorted. “Come now, Saber. I thought you’d learned your lesson about bartering for false miracles.”

More portals opened up behind him and another dozen shining weapons shot out. Saber Alter countered with her sword and her cloak of magical energy, but even with her overwhelming strength and power, a pair snuck under her guard and impaled her leg, their golden glow intruding on even her bottomless darkness.

They didn’t remain long. The black knight tore the spines away from her with barely a break in stride. Mud surged from her fresh wounds and in an instant, they were scabbed over and nearly good as new.

Mordred hissed and raised her sword. “Jaune, look after Ruby and your father. Don’t move him anymore, just let Avalon do its work.”

Her master whipped around to her with panicked eyes. His gaze darted between the two juggernauts squaring off before them. “Who are you going to help?”

“Probably father,” Mordred confessed. “If Archer doesn’t get back here in time, this may be our only chance of taking Gilgamesh down.”

“Father,” Jaune whispered. “I thought… I thought you didn’t believe…”

“There’s only one person in all creation who can power Avalon,” Mordred whispered reluctantly. Crimson lightning sparked around her sword. “Stay safe, master.”

She blasted off back into the fray, more emotions running through her head than there’d been since she’d first revealed who she was to the king. Back then, she’d let her fury consume her, even allowing it to make her forget her best intentions. She didn’t have that luxury this time.

It had been made abundantly clear that nothing they had short of Ruby’s unrestrained silver eyes would be capable of driving off Gilgamesh. But the young huntress was a) unconscious, and b) had no idea how to intentionally release that kind of power yet. Her sisters were safe, at least for the moment, but if the King of Heroes destroyed them here, there was nothing to stop him from tracking them down later.

She would not let that happen. Even if she had to barter with the abomination her father had been transformed into, she would _not_ let that happen.

Clarent lashed out and demolished a swarm of gold that was headed towards Saber Alter’s unprotected side. Crimson sparks shot out and deflected a flock of ornate daggers that dived for them.

Saber Alter tilted her head at the assistance, but in the end, nodded gratefully. “A truce then, my son? Until we have annihilated this monster?”

“Yeah, yeah. We can work together,” Mordred sighed. Despite everything though, a cocky smirk rose underneath her horned helm. “No quit talking and let’s put down this _mongrel_.”

“Insolent imitation,” Gilgamesh growled. “You _dare_ insinuate that I am on the same level as you? Mongrel!”

The Gate of Babylon opened even wider, encasing the two knights in a dome of hellish gold. Before long, the fires of heaven came down to crush them.

Two swords, once as holy as the saints themselves, now tainted with the gravest sins, rose to meet it, twin wills of scarlet and black upon their blades.

 

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Lancer Alter couldn’t stop laughing.

He really couldn’t help himself. After he’d been forced to cut the excitement at Kuroyuri short, he’d been afraid that would be the peak of his fun during the Grail War. Watts’ orders to wait around hadn’t exactly encouraged his hopes, and though spending downtime talking with his handler and catching some fish was nice, he still craved some action. When he’d spotted Qrow Branwen’s group headed for Haven, he’d nearly salivated at the mouth, though he was quite dismayed to learn that none of those he’d combated before were among the enemy’s party.

Still, the foes he’d been left with were far from small potatoes. Saber Alter had identified two of the three Servants that closed in on the school: Diarmuid of the Love Spot and Sir Lancelot of the Lake. Both were names he had heard within the Throne, both knights with some imperfect reputations but he had killed his own son and was currently aiding All the World’s Evils, so who was he to judge a little infidelity. The important thing was that both were renown as warriors, the mightiest sword of the Round Table and the closest thing he had to a successor in the Fianna Cycle (That Fionn guy sounded more like a trickster than a fighter the more he heard about him). He’d been quite excited to see what they could do.

Of course, then Lancelot had jumped out a window and Diarmuid had been caught off guard by his initial assault. If it were up to him, he’d have let the knight get back up and taken him head-on, but the Queen had been yelling in his head. She usually let him do what he wanted, but she was going on about the farm boy in the room. Something about him being Oswald or something? Oh well. If she wanted him to slaughter every non-Servant except for Blake Belladonna (Weiss had declared she would be spared and so she would be spared), who was he to argue? He got his fill of blood either way.

Then he received the best surprise yet.

Hercules.

Freaking Hercules. He got to fight Hercules!

Best. Grail War. Ever!

The Greatest Hero of Greece lived up to every inch of his reputation. He was clearly operating with a few screws loose like any other Berserker, but Cu Chulainn would be damned if his combat skills weren’t the finest he’d seen in either of his lives, on the same level as his old teacher if that was possible.

The two of them danced across the roof of Haven, the reinforced concrete of the huntsmen academy crumpling like tissue paper under their titanic steps. Typhoons spawned without end with each swing of their weapons, Gae Bolg singing in absolute euphoria each time it clashed with the demigod’s massive stone blade. This is what combat was meant to be! A head-on challenge of two worthy warriors, their spirits charged with purpose, each unwavering in their will and their steel, death the only possible end for such indomitable souls.

Though, Lancer Alter was willing to admit slaying his opponent traditionally might be a bit more difficult than he’d first imagined. He could have sworn he’d drawn blood when he’d landed the blow that Hercules had countered to get them up here. He’d seen the giant bleed more as he’d landed several glancing blows with his slightly superior speed. Yet, right after the strike had made contact, there was always a soft golden glow that shimmered over the wound. It took a few minutes afterward, but the cuts did close.

Normally this would be excused as a Servant’s natural healing disposition, except wounds dealt by Gae Bolg _couldn’t_ be healed. Not without some very powerful magic at least. So it was quite interesting that not only were his blows being healed, but healed faster each time, with his once glancing blows soon bouncing of the Son of Zeus’ skin like they’d struck solid armor, not a scratch in sight.

Lancer Alter cackled with joy, his laughter echoing out not unlike a rabid hyena. This just kept getting better and better.

Berserker took advantage of his flesh’s new resistance and grabbed Gae Bolg, spines and all, and tugged the crimson lance out of the way. He raised his stone sword with his other arm and brought it down with force of his father’s thunder.

Cu Chulainn had a rather high opinion of his own power, but he wasn’t foolish enough to take on the one hero synonymous with strength in a battle of brute force, no matter what their stats might say. So instead of letting the blade land directly on his shoulder, he pulled himself to the side using Hercules’ own iron grip on Gae Bolg as an anchor. The sword came down an inch to the left of him, and the Irishman used his new proximity to backhand the Son of Zeus across the face, actually making the giant reel back a moment.

Lancer Alter used that momentary distraction to throw his free arm around the mad warrior’s blade. Then, using both of their gripped weapons as hold, he jumped up and planted his clawed feet right on Hercules’ chest, pulling back with his arms and pushing forward with his feet, pricks of blood emerging from his talons’ pinholes.

Suddenly, the tension on Gae Bolg and the stone sword disappeared. With nothing now holding back against his pulling away, Cu Chulainn leapt off the demigod. Or at least he would have, if Hercules hadn’t freed his hands by letting go of both their weapons and then snagged his opponent’s legs by the knees.

The Irishman was not ashamed to admit he’d paled a bit when that’d happened.

Berserker proceeded to swing Cu Chulainn like a golf club, his head plowing through Haven’s roof, shattering concrete as he went. The giant eventually switched his grip to only one leg, raised Lancer Alter above his head, and then bashed him through the ceiling.

The blackened knight must have plummeted half a dozen floors at least. He caught glimpses of Caster fleeing from Diarmuid and Emerald wrapping Blake up in chains before throwing her through a door. He thought he’d even seen Watts chase a bird out into the pond area. He hoped he didn’t startle the fish.

At last, he smashed into a stone floor that didn’t crumble under him. If he was right, he’d landed in some barren high cavern a bit smaller than the Spring Maiden’s Vault. Maybe a prototype? Eh, who cared? He held up his hand and Gae Bolg instantly soared down into his open grip, smirk brightening his face.

Despite, or perhaps even because of, the dull pain in his back, he was having the time of his life. Every move he made, Hercules had a tactic to counter it and the ability to pull it off. Add in whatever Noble Phantasm it was that was protecting him from Gae Bolg, and Cu Chulainn had no doubt that he’d have to get creative if he was going to win this one.

He could only hope Weiss was having this much fun.

**Lancer!**

His smile faded and a sigh escaped his lips. Now, of all times?

_What is it, boss lady?_

**Saber requires aid. We must fly to her side.**

A sharp whistle of fleeing air spiked through Cu Chulainn’s ears. A small dot slowly increased in size as it fell down the same hole the Servant had just made himself.

The Irishman’s eyes widened. He rolled out of the way just before Hercules landed with a sonic boom, a small earthquake cracking the mountain from the impact.

_I’m a little busy. Have Rider do it._

**Rider is inside a Reality Marble.**

_How the hell did he get there?_

**Iskandar.**

_Of course._

Lancer Alter couldn’t believe his luck. He got the chance to take on one of the greatest heroes of all time, and he had to cut the fight short, so he could go pull Saber’s butt out of the fire. He couldn’t even complain about Rider not pulling his weight since he’d been perfectly upfront about what he would do if he encountered his old rival. Part of him was even happy for the former emperor, it wasn’t every day you got a chance at a long-wished battle.

The other part of him really wanted to keep fighting Hercules.

_Are you sure Saber needs help? She’s pretty tough._

**She faces the King of Heroes.**

Argh! He couldn’t even argue with that. Seeing as the whole reason the Alters were even summoned was to provide extra muscle against Gilgamesh, not heading out to face him would be pathetic.

Oh well, at least he’d still be getting a good fight.

He dashed away as Hercules charged past him, the giant nearly cleaving his head off as he went. The Berserker whirled around to face him once more, his back to the wall of the cavern.

Lancer Alter raised his spear above his head. The crimson lance ignited with a ravenous demonic glow.

“Apologies for this, my friend. I want you to know that this was the best fight I’ve had in a long time,” he consoled the mad warrior. “But I’m afraid this is where we part ways. **Gae Bolg!** ”

He threw his spiked spear with all his might, the bloodcurdling aura surrounding transforming the polearm into its Anti-Army form. Berserker brought down his stone sword on the incoming attack but there was no deflecting The Gorging Piercing Spear of Carnage. Space bent around the lance as it streaked like crimson lightning around the demigod’s meager defense.

There was an explosion, powerful enough to eradicate legions. The impact of his attack obliterated the side of the mountain, opening the cavern to fading light of the sunset as razor winds blew clouds of dust at Cu Chulainn’s stalwart form. His scarlet eyes scanned the storm, fervently searching for the fate of his enemy.

It did not take him long to find. Berserker laid flat on his back, his lifeless eyes staring straight at the cave’s ceiling. Hundreds of red thorns pierced through his skin from the inside out, each and every one conjured by Gae Bolg’s curse. It would strike the heart and annihilate the body. Hell, he was pretty sure not even he could survive it, at least not as they both were.

It was why he didn’t like using his Noble Phantasm unless he really had to. As hard as he had trained to master the arcane skill, it still felt like a cheap trick, something no other fighter could really counter. Even Archer’s surprise defense at Kuroyuri had left him completely wiped out. Lancer preferred overcoming his opponents in open combat that using such a tactic. He sighed as his weapon returned to his grip.

Oh well, what was done was done. Might as well go help Saber now.

Cu Chulainn trudged towards the opening in the cavern, ready to jump out into the city, when he saw it. The spikes throughout Berserker’s body started snapping off like twigs. The giant’s broken gray body regained its vibrant brown hue and sewed itself back together. One eye opened blazing with fury while the other glowed a furious scarlet.

Hercules roared his defiance of death, and his father’s domain trembled in the face of the demigod’s fury.

Lancer Alter threw back his head and laughed like a mad man. He didn’t know how the Servant of Madness had returned from the grave and he didn’t care one bit. He now had the perfect excuse to bring along his new friend to the party.

“Come on, big guy,” the black warrior taunted his slowly rising foe. “Catch me if you can!”

Ireland’s Child of Light leapt out into the city of Mistral, the Bastard of Zeus howling bloody murder behind him all the way.

 

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Darius frowned as the hot winds of the desert blew the sands across his face. Something was wrong.

His elite troops, those that were his Immortals in life, stood arrayed beside him. When they lived, they were a faceless legion completely covered in black cloth, eternally ten thousand strong. When one fell, another would simply take their place, the enemy unable to tell they had killed anyone at all. And so now ten thousand stood with him now on this familiar desert, steadfast against his foe.

Despite his outer disgruntlement, the sight of them lit a smile within his soul.

The Ionian Hetairoi was arrayed before him, more massive and impressive than the last time he’d seen them. Familiar Grecian and Macedonian hoplites stood shoulder to shoulder with more lightly armor Egyptian spearmen. Athenian archers formed ranks with Persian slingers. If he was not mistaken, there was even a number of warriors of the far east among the enemy, their signature turbans plain to see.

And at the head of the army was an even more familiar figure. A broad-shouldered king draped in red and gold atop a magnificent black stallion.

“Darius!” Iskandar called across the desert.

The emperor felt his blood hammering in his veins at the sight of his rival. “Iskandar! I was beginning to think you had become a coward. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“Coward? Ha!” Iskandar replied. “Never.”

Darius grinned, pleased to see his rival was as magnificent as he remembered. Still, his expression fluttered as he gazed upon his enemy’s army. It was far larger than he remembered. He’d expected to be outnumbered, he only had his elite troops after while Iskandar had his entire army, but it appeared he was outnumbered ten to one, as disadvantaged as the King of Conquerors had been when they had first clashed.

The strategist in him couldn’t help but be worried. Even with the strength the Queen had granted him, he was not invincible. Add to that the fact that he had never defeated Iskandar in life and the odds of this battle were not in his favor.

The rest of him quickly quelled that worried portion and returned his hungry grin to his face.

So what if the odds were stacked against him? Iskandar had never had the odds in his favor. He had invaded the largest empire the world had ever known with a meager ten thousand men and by the end of his life had conquered the known world. Victory was not to be had when it was handed to one on a silver platter. It was to be strived for, bled for. And if necessary died for.

Treachery had denied him his final conclusion in life. Whether he won or lost this battle, he would finally have his answer on which of their spirits was truly worthier. To do that, he would beat his rival at his own game.

He would conquer.

“Charge!”

 

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Weiss grinned as she met the Branwen tribe girl (what was it Qrow had called her? Vernal?) blade for blade. Sparks flew as Myrtenaster clashed with the girl’s heavy chakrams, their steel proving to be even.

It was quite impressive really. Perhaps Vernal had been personally trained by Raven, because there was no reason otherwise that a mere bandit should be equal to Weiss in physical combat. If she hadn’t been altered by the Queen, she probably would have been completely overwhelmed by the girl’s strength.

The exchange was actually proving itself to be quite a bit of fun.

Vernal snagged Myrtenaster in one of her blades’ grips and yanked it to the side. She brought her other weapon up, the tip of its gun component glowing orange.

Weiss conjured a propulsion glyph in front of herself. The bandit was sent flying backwards just as she got her shot off, smashing into rows of seats in the lecture hall.

The former heiress hissed and rubbed her shoulder, a wisp of smoke rising from her aura.

“All that and you still got a hit in,” she complimented. “You know, your skills would be very useful to the Queen.”

Vernal wobbled back to her feet and hissed. “You mean the Queen that wants to destroy the world?”

“Please, you serve Raven Branwen,” Weiss pointed out. “It’s not like you have much of an issue with moral ambiguity.”

“True,” the bandit admitted. “But just because I’m willing to slit a few throats if I have to doesn’t make me a psychopath. Everything I do, I do for my tribe. It’s not always pretty, and I won’t say it’s not fun, but I don’t do it for kicks.”

She raised her weapons.

“Loyalty,” Weiss noted. “I can respect that, even if it is foolish. Very well, Vernal. I’ll make your end quick.”

She snapped her fingers. Half a dozen black glyphs appeared behind her. Each launched a barrage of black spectral swords downrange at the bandit.

Vernal rolled to the side to avoid the assault, but the glyphs tracked her and kept up the fire. She threw her weapons to deflect some of the blades, the chakrams always spinning before returning to her hands.

Weiss placed the tip of her blade into the floor and began forming a more intricate glyph.

“I see,” she remarked loudly, keeping her eyes on the deftly dodging bandit. “Those weapons of yours store kinetic energy. The more they move, the more power they have for those laser blasts of yours. Quite impressive for a bandit.”

“Thanks, I made them myself,” Vernal snarked, barely flipping away from getting a spectral broadsword to the face.

Weiss smirked as dark _prana_ poured into the emblem below her. “It’s strange. They’re actually quite similar to Yang’s semblance in a way. Take in the power around you and all that. Did it ever occur to you—”

“That she was trying to make me into a replacement?” Vernal interjected bitterly as she batted aside another barrage. “Many times. Trust me, there is nothing you can pretend to psychoanalyze that I haven’t already thought of and dealt with, so can we leave the table chat behind and just try to kill each other in silence?”

The sword glyphs above Weiss tripled. “If you insist,” she taunted. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

A thin whip suddenly wrapped around Weiss’ wrist. She whirled around to see the chameleon faunus girl glaring at her, the source of the whip in her hand.

“You talk too much.”

The girl pulled her weapon’s trigger.

Weiss screeched as electricity surged through her. She struggled to retain her concentration on the glyph beneath her, the emblems above her unfortunately fading as a cost.

She fell to her knees, panting.

Vernal stopped dodging and panted in relief. “Thanks. Don’t know how much longer I could have kept that up.”

“No problem,” Ilia growled. She pulled back her whip for another strike. “I always wanted to kill a Schnee.”

Weiss’ eyes narrowed. “I. Am not. A Schnee!”

Above her, a time dilation glyph materialized. Ilia’s incoming slash, or at least the Alter’s perception of it, slowed immensely, easily giving Weiss the time to duck out of the way and kick the chameleon faunus back towards Vernal.

After that, she slammed her sword into the black glyph she’d formed on the ground.

A summoning glyph.

With the time dilation still active, the Arma Nuckelavee rose in a matter of seconds. The hideous Grimm threw its horrifying head at its master’s foes and _screeched_.

Vernal and Ilia barely had time to retreat before the armored monstrosity charged, driving the two warriors through what few walls remained in the school.

Weiss herself sighed as her creation ran off. Skilled as her opponents may have been, they did not require her personal attention. No, there was only one among Ozpin’s forces that she needed to kill personally. The one who had indoctrinated Ruby and Yang into being the cursed wizard’s pawns. He would pay for that sin dearly and her friends would be one step closer to seeing the truth of the world.

Now, she just had to figure out where Watts had run off with him.

 

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Ozpin hissed as the entire school shook. He knew the backlash of a Noble Phantasm when he felt it, though given that Lancer and Caster had driven each other into the central courtyard a while ago, it was likely Lancer Alter who was responsible. He could only pray that Berserker was strong enough to deal with whatever the attack was, but if anyone could it was certainly Hercules.

Or better yet…

“Can you still feel Berserker?” he inquired to Raven.

His old friend, current somewhat trusted ally nodded. “He’s fine. He lost a few lives just now, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.”

“Good,” Ozpin declared. “If he loses, Lancer Alter will slaughter us—”

An incoming fireball interrupted the headmaster’s worry. Both he and Raven dove out of the way, whirling on the source of the assault with cane and odachi drawn.

“You… you!” Leonardo stuttered, another fireball already forming above his weapon. He had forgone his long overcoat for a simple brown vest. “How long have you been spying on me, Raven? How much do you know?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Not really your biggest concern right now, Leo. What with Ozpin here blowing your little operation wide open.”

 _“Why did she just tell him who we are?”_ Oscar asked worriedly.

 _‘Leonardo has seen my cane many times before. He’s probably already figured it out himself,_ ’ Ozpin comforted the boy within his mind. In truth though, he was concerned as well. Raven wasn’t one to give away information unless she had to. She wouldn’t assume Lionheart already knew who he was, so why would she tell him?

“Oz—Ozpin!” Leonardo jumped back with fright, a small gold chain dangling from his inner vest pocket. “You’ve already reincarnated?”

Ozpin lowered himself into a combat stance. “Surrender Leonardo. You can’t beat us both.”

“I can bring him to her,” Lionheart stuttered, not listening to Ozpin’s words. “I can bring him to her, and she’ll forgive me. She’ll let me go.”

“Unlikely,” Raven snarked. She flicked her hand towards herself.

A rush of wind blasted Lionheart towards her. The headmaster cowered under the maiden’s flaming glare. He yelped as Raven lifted him up by his lapels.

“Raven, wait,” Ozpin protested. “He may know something we can use.”

Raven scoffed. “Do you really think Salem would tell this coward anything important? Besides…”

She reached into his vest’s inner pocket and pulled out a familiar gold pocket watch.

Ozpin’s eyes widened.

“I have everything I need from him,” Raven smirked.

Ozpin raised his cane, but Raven hurled Lionheart into him before he could move. The two headmasters went tumbling across the decimated floor until Ozpin managed to plant his cane and stop them from falling off the edge of the office. By the time he managed to get a good look around, all he saw was a fluttering of black feathers making for the main atrium. Where the entrance to the Vault of the Spring Maiden was hidden and reinforced by magic.

Magic to which the pocket watch Raven just took, an heirloom of past Haven headmasters, was the only key.

She was after the Relic.

He had to warn the others. He had to stop—

Once more, a fireball to his side interrupted him. He barely managed to dodge the attack before whirling around on its source.

“She’ll forgive me. She’ll forgive me,” Leonardo muttered as he readied another blast. “I just have to bring him to her and I’ll be free. Free forever!”

Ozpin grit his teeth and readied his cane. He had been hopeful that Raven’s intentions were honest when she came to them, but though he tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, her betrayal wasn’t truly a surprise. Honestly, she was still having Berserker protect them from Lancer Alter, which was more than he would have thought they’d get. Still, the Relic was a crucial piece of Salem’s agenda and they needed to get it to a protected location, not dragged around Remnant wherever Raven went.

Unfortunately, the chaos of the battlefield meant that there was no one available to stop her.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Kirei Kotomine was having an interesting day.

As Gilgamesh requested, he had gone to Haven Academy to wait for Branwen’s arrival. What he hadn’t expected was to find the school in ruin, multiple combatants frantically dueling to the death.

Qrow fought a thin man with a mustache and cybernetic hands across a series of ponds not unlike the meditation gardens from back in Japan. The drunkard transformed back and forth from his bird form throughout the battle, jetting about just as his foe’s mechanical fingers shot out to spear his previous body. The two obliterated the garden’s scenic gates as they clashed.

A lithe woman in a purple cloak, most likely the Caster Servant, flew over the academy’s walls and rained down dozens of pink blasts upon, of all people, the same Lancer Kirei had briefly seen in the Fourth War. The spearman did well as he elegantly danced through the bombardment, constantly pressuring the witch to retreat.

Kirei heard other sounds of combat echoing from within the institution. And since his target was not among the warriors outside, he summarily snuck into the building, the combatants far too distracted by each other to pay attention to him.

He entered a large atrium, multiple pillars supporting balconies on either side of the room. At the far end was a double-sided staircase that led into another area of the school, one far more volatile if the echoes of combat and the constant shrapnel were anything to go by. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the room was the alabaster angel statue that resided between the stairwells, a single thin gold chain hanging from its neck. Kirei might not have had a mind for art, but he could recognize fine work when he saw it and this piece was certainly in the same standings as works from his own world’s Italian Renaissance.

Stalking behind the room’s pillars, careful to keep himself hidden from any who might stumble into the vicinity, he observed as a single raven flew into the atrium, setting down right in front of the statue. His head tilted a bit when his semblance informed him of the bird’s identity, but it was proven right a mere moment after his confusion arose.

Raven Branwen took shape at the room’s far end, her gaze locked on the statue before her. She drew a golden pocket watch from her robes.

Kirei’s brow furrowed as his semblance further analyzed her abilities. She had the Spring Maiden’s abilities. He readied his black keys and made sure the Contender was loaded at his side but refrained from calling Gilgamesh. Dangerous his curiosity may have been, he couldn’t help but wonder why a fighter as powerful as Branwen had left the battle to stare at a statue.

Raven gingerly placed the watch in a small compartment on the statue’s golden chain. As soon as the two gold items touched, the air hummed with power. The statue turned and sank into the floor, providing a platform to house someone as it lowered itself down a deep hole. The bandit leader sighed.

“No turning back now.”

She hopped onto the elevator and descended into darkness.

Kirei came out of his hiding place and walked over to the hole. The way down was lit by a series of blue fluorescent lights, but Raven was already so far down that he couldn’t see her.

Now would be the time he should call Gilgamesh. If Branwen’s objective was at the bottom of the hole, she would use her semblance to escape as soon as she claimed it.

He was about to use the Command Seal when the wall to his left exploded.

Blake Belladonna crashed into the room. The poor huntress skidded across the hardwood floor, groaning as she stopped a few yards from Kirei.

Another familiar figure stalked through the breach in the wall, her chained kama swinging threateningly at her sides. “Nice try, kitty, but you’ll have to do better than… that.”

Kirei’s eyes locked with a pair of red eyes he honestly didn’t think he’d ever see again.

Emerald Sustrai snarled. “You!”

His former teammate charged.


	60. The Last Hero

Ruby groaned as she awoke. Her hands flew to her forehead and rubbed her pained eyes. Her attempted assault on Gilgamesh had thinned out the barrage against Jaune, Mordred, and Mr. Arc, but her follow-up had been easily parried. She poured all the power she could into Crescent Rose but that had just made everything hurt even more when it had been—

Ah! No!

Ruby shot up to a sitting position. She desperately scanned her surroundings, praying that her memory was wrong.

It wasn’t. Bent scraps of red and black metal were scattered across the ground, none of them large enough to use but easy to identify. The corpse of the weapon she’d slaved day and night back in Signal to create. Her pride and joy, her baby. Her weapon.

And now it was gone. A part of Ruby felt like it had died with her prized sniper-scythe.

A thunderous symphony of explosions rocked her from her grief. She whirled around to their source.

The clearing before her was a kaleidoscope of red, black, and gold. Mordred darted about on bolts of crimson lightning, dancing between every screeching projectile she could, Clarent soaring to deflect the shots she couldn’t dodge in time. Even still, she would have been overwhelmed a dozen times over if it weren’t for the rampant black typhoons that reeved about, knocking scores of golden weapons to the ground and leveling every house within half a mile of the battlefield.

Ruby’s eyes widened when she saw the ferocious winds’ source. It was Arturia, but it wasn’t. Like Weiss, her previous shining ensemble had been replaced with dark clothing and armor blacker than pitch night. The once intimidating, but comforting aura of the King of Knights was gone, the cold, merciless aura of a mighty dragon in its place, her body surrounded by a relentless black gale. She stood in the same place, for the most part, only jetting a few yards away whenever a stray shot got too close, Mordred rapidly closing any holes in their security, the two’s shared movements appearing more like a dance than a frantic defense. Over and over, the Alter’s smoke covered Excalibur came down, unleashing titanic streams of dark energy and annihilating vast swaths of Mistral with each burst.

But every time they approached Gilgamesh, the Gate of Babylon swarmed the blasts with golden weapons and, if that wasn’t enough, produced shields the size of Atlesian Paladins to take the remaining surge, the black _prana_ splattering against the walls like a flood against a ship’s hull. The defenses strained under the assault’s power but ultimately held.

The King of Heroes’ scowl deepened ever time one of his shields would bend, and on rare occasion break. He had been forced onto the ground from his earlier elevation and his crimson eyes glared ever harder as a result. His golden armor shined as more and more shimmering portals opened in the sky, three layers at least a hundred across glittering in the clouds raining down hell upon the knights below. If the two hadn’t been working together, they would have been obliterated in an instant, and even as it was, Saber Alter was struck by half a dozen blades every now and then, only having the strength to rip the weapons out and keep going because dark mud quickly surged out of each of her wounds and healed them before she could be struck again.

Even still, it was only a matter of time before the knights of Camelot crumpled under the golden king’s relentless bombardment.

Ruby’s fists tightened, and her head shook to clear the cobwebs from her mind. She didn’t have time to grieve. She needed to do something. Despite Saber Alter’s unexpected assistance, they couldn’t hold out forever. They needed help.

_‘Archer, are you done with—’_

An explosion echoed through Ruby’s skull, this time mental as opposed to the countless physical echoing around her.

 _“Busy, master,”_ Archer answered hurriedly. _“Call back later.”_

_‘Right. Sorry.’_

Okay, Archer was still occupied with Assassin, so that was out.

What else could she do? The only other thing they knew could hurt Gilgamesh was her eyes, and though she’d made progress acclimating to their abilities, she still didn’t know how to consciously call upon the same level of strength she’d used to force him back at Beacon. Her eyebeams from training with Oscar were stronger than her weapon channeled power, probably as strong as her mom’s old blasts according to Ozpin, but that hadn’t been enough to overwhelm Gilgamesh’s armor during the Fifth War. Besides, she didn’t think she could wade through the hail of weapons currently turning the clearing into a crater in order to get close enough for an accurate shot.

…

Actually, why wasn’t she being shredded by debris? She wasn’t in the blast zone, but she wasn’t that far away.

“Ruby, are you okay?”

The red hooded huntress turned around. Jaune kneeled between her and the raining rubble, his father lying between them. Her fellow team leader had Crocea Mors stabbed into the ground in broadsword form, sweat frantically dripping down his brow. All around the three of them, a cocoon of wind stalwartly swirled, its gale-force power shoving aside any debris that came their way.

“Jaune, how are you doing this?” Ruby whispered in wonder.

The blond smirked, though part of it seemed to stem from a flinch of pain. “Neat huh. Mordred and I have been working on stabilizing Invisible Air, keep it cycling instead of unleashing it all in one go. So, I figured, why not do that, but make it bigger? You know, keep us from getting crushed. Good stuff like that. Probably wouldn't hold if goldie sends a shot our way, but it can keep the rubble away.”

His reassuring smile was ruined by the rapid flicker of his aura.

Ruby frowned. “You only figured out how to do that for your sword a few days ago. Your aura won’t hold out long if you keep it going this large. It’ll break and then Mordred will be out of power.”

“So, what?” Jaune bit out, his brow furrowing in strain. “If I drop it, there’s no way we’ll survive.”

“I don’t want you to drop it. Just decrease the radius to just you and your dad.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Jaune, I’ll be fine,” Ruby insisted. “It’ll lower the strain on you and I can use my semblance to get away—”

“No!” Jaune repeated urgently. “I am not sacrificing one friend to save another. I’m not trading lives. I have faith in Mordred. She can handle this. I know she can.”

Ruby growled, but she knew her friend well enough to know he wouldn’t budge, at least not without serious convincing and they didn’t have time to argue. So instead, she thrust her hands over the back of Jaune’s own.

“Fine. But I’m helping then. What can be given can also be taken.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “No. Ruby, I’m not taking your semblance—”

“Not my semblance you dummy, my aura,” Ruby shouted urgently. “Yours is big, but it isn’t going to last much longer if you don’t recharge it. And then we’re all dead.”

The blonde’s blue eyes wavered. “Ruby… the last time I took someone’s power… mom—”

“Was already dying,” Ruby cut him off. “This is _your_ semblance, it’s a part of you. What you gain from using it, there is no shame in using it to protect people. It is _your_ power. And now I’m giving you mine. You can do this. Trust yourself, or if you can’t do that, at least trust me.”

Jaune stared at her blankly for a moment. Then, he steeled himself and nodded. He closed his eyes and his aura glowed white. Shortly after, Ruby’s own ignited red.

It was… it was a strange feeling to describe, having her aura sucked out. In some ways, it was just like taking regular damage to it, feeling a blow more spiritually, in her heart in exchange for shielding her physical body from the attack. But the process was far more… visceral, like a vacuum cleaner sucking up dust. Even beyond what she’d expected, she felt like there was something else being attracted, like Jaune’s semblance was picking at something that shouldn’t have been touched, a power that resided even deeper within her than her aura.

Several moments later, it was over. Ruby’s aura faded back to translucence and she let go of a tense breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

Jaune’s body glowed with power. His knuckles were still tight around his sword’s hilt and sweat still poured down his brow, but his back wasn’t as hunched over as before, and his breath came a little easier.

“Thanks,” he sighed. He grinned at his friend. “I needed that. I think I left you with maybe thirty percent. Maybe twenty? I’m not that good at judging that stuff.”

Ruby grimaced but kept her smile encouraging. “It’s fine. Now that we’ve got some breathing room, we need to figure out a way to—”

Nicholas interrupted her with a guttural howl. His arms spasmed to the side as his hands clutched at the dirt. His eyes flared open, but instead of their usual reassuring blue, the left one blazed a hellish yellow.

“No! No!” he screamed. “Get out of my head!”

He plopped back down to the ground after that, his body spasming every now and again.

Ruby cringed after he finished. She gazed down at his prone form, her eyes widening at what she saw. Avalon rested, strapped to his side, but pouring out from it and into the Arc patriarch’s body were familiar tendrils of black mud. Slowly, they began to expand beyond his newly healed stomach, their dark essence seeping into the huntsman’s veins.

“Jaune…”

“Get it off him!” her friend demanded. “He should be healed, get it off him now!”

Ruby did so immediately, ripping Avalon away and setting it on the grass just inside the wind shield. It did nothing to stop or even slow the mud’s expansion.

“Those veins, they look just like Weiss,” Ruby noted. “Saber Alter’s _prana_ comes from Salem. It’s not normal. It’s turning him into an Alter.”

“And Avalon can’t recognize it as something to healed because it comes from Mom.” Jaune hissed. “Damnit. What do we do? Can we cut it out or something?”

Ruby looked out at the battle of Servants. Mordred and Arturia fought for their lives as a maelstrom of spears, swords, and axes plummeted down upon them. She wanted to go out and help them, to kick Gilgamesh in his stupid golden butt.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t have the power to get through the hail of weapons raining down. And worrying about what she couldn’t do wouldn’t help anyone.

She needed to focus on what she _could_ do.

“This only just happened,” Ruby pointed out. “It’s not a part of a Servant vessel or throughout his whole body. Maybe… maybe I don’t know, maybe my eyes can purify it or something. Like fire does to an infected wound.”

Jaune cocked an eyebrow. “Can you do that? I know your eyes are made to deal with this, but they’ve damaged other stuff before. What happens if you can’t keep it to the mud?”

Ruby glanced away. “I… I don’t know. I’ll do everything I can but… I’ve never used them on this specific a target before. He’s your dad, Jaune. It’s your call.”

Jaune grimaced and hissed in frustration. “If he transforms fully, we might never get him back. This way, at least there’s a chance to save him.”

Ruby nodded and lowered her gaze. She squinted and locked her eyes onto the mud coated the healed area, keeping in mind the little black trails that were leading off into his veins.

A tinge of white began to fill her vision. She had to be more careful than ever and not just because she didn’t have Crescent Rose to be a medium anymore. She refused to let her eyes kill another of Jaune’s parents. She needed to judge this gently. A blast with the full power she could consciously summon might be too much. She couldn’t use her full aria, well, her full semi-complete aria. She had three letters currently, so she’d use two, one for power and one for focus. Hopefully, that would be enough.

_& n#$% #l*&$_

Silver light flooded her vision and flowed down to Nicholas’ body. Like a cool stream brushing away dirt, it gripped the black mud tight and dispersed it into nothingness. Ruby clenched her teeth as the light began to buckle against her control, her mind feeling like she was trying to keep a lid on some explosive she’d set off. If she let up for an instant, the power would escape her grip and annihilate everything in its path.

So she wouldn’t let up. She couldn’t let up. Like she told Jaune about his semblance, this was _her_ power. She controlled it, not the other way around.

It felt like turning back a river, but Ruby recalled the light to her eyes, the corruption purged and Nicholas Arc breathing evenly. She sighed and smiled at Jaune, her eyes a bit heavy but otherwise okay.

Or at least she thought until she saw the worry on Jaune’s face. “What? Did I miss? Is he hurt? I’m so sorry, Jaune, I tried my best but—”

“Ruby, it’s fine. He’s fine. You did it,” Jaune assured her, his gaze not moving from her face. “But… just look.”

He angled Crocea Mors slightly upwards.

Ruby looked down into the flat of the blade, catching her murky reflection. It was too blurred to catch much detail, but she quickly caught what had Jaune so worried.

To the side of her right eye, snaking out like a stubby worm, was a thin crack. It was barely large enough to notice, but the split skin was accentuated by the harsh silver light shining from within.

Perhaps her efforts to condense her power wasn’t as successful as she’d thought.

“What the heck is—”

**“AAAAAAARRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRR!”**

Out in the battlefield, Mordred and Arturia both froze just for an instant. It probably would have been a death sentence for them both, except the Gate of Babylon’s rate of fire dramatically decreased at that same moment, Gilgamesh’s gaze whirled away towards an incoming cloud of dust.

Jaune paled. “Oh no.”

“What?” Ruby asked. “What is that?”

Her answer came a moment later. An armored figure wreathed in shadows leapt out of the dust cloud and charged onto the battlefield. Moving like a dancer, its nimble hands reached out and snatched two giant broadswords out of the Gate of Babylon’s barrage. As soon as the weapons touched his hands, black smoke rushed out of his palms and coated the blades like a new shine of polish. Even as the dark knight dashed forward, his body spasmed in an unsettling manner, an unnatural handicap that should have prevented the warrior from moving like he’d been shot out of a cannon.

Ruby recognized Lancelot from the footage she’d seen when he’d shown up at Oniyuri. He was much, much more terrifying in person. Fortunately, despite their earlier clash, he wasn’t charging at Mordred.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t going for Gilgamesh either.

**“AAARRRRRRTTTTTTHHHHHHHUUUUUUURRRRRRR!”**

He smashed into Saber Alter with the force of an avalanche. His massive swords rained down blow after blow on her head, amazingly pushing back the once immovable Servant. He struck her black Excalibur again and again, dancing through the drizzling golden blades like they were nothing but errant raindrops, forcing Arturia to fall back into those same hazards.

“Bloody hell, Lancelot!” Mordred screeched. “This is not the time.”

Arturia grunted her agreement, though that may have just been her hissing as both giant blades were raised above her head.

Mordred growled. Crimson lightning surged around her, but just as she made to jump into the fray, a golden lance speared her thigh. She crumpled to the ground, leaning on Clarent to keep from hitting the dirt.

“Now, now, imitation,” Gilgamesh lectured. “Mad this dog may be, and vile his master undeniably is, he is still a hero. Perhaps he can redeem himself for his part in the vile theft against me by extinguishing this abomination your father has become.”

“What? Can’t do it yourself?” Mordred shouted. “Or do you just not want to waste any of your fancy toys?”

“I imagine what you know about treasures can be counted on one hand mongrel,” Gilgamesh sneered. “I have already lost one of the utmost value in Saber, and I will not allow any more to be tainted if it can be avoided. Speaking of…”

Two golden portals appeared just as Saber Alter met Lancelot in a blade lock. Two heavy hammers jutted out of the portals and smashed into the paralyzed weapons. Excalibur remained in Arturia’s grip, but Lancelot’s swords were sent flying from his grasp. They struck the ground and laid there motionless, still reeved in black smoke.

Saber Alter’s blade blazed with sinful fire. She swung it down in a gargantuan slash, the dark blaze erupting towards her foe, the indomitable torrent of a wrathful dragon.

All at once, the shadows swarming Lancelot’s armor evaporated. That which remained flooded into his right hand, materializing an elegant black broadsword. He slashed the blade upward and caught Arturia’s strike above his head, deflecting the typhoon of darkness harmlessly into the sky.

“Arondight,” Saber Alter hissed. The black _prana_ surrounding her seemed to cower before the sword. “Damn you, Lancelot.”

At that moment, the black helmet encasing Lancelot’s head exploded in a flash of red. Long, ragged blue hair flew upward while dark, sunken eyes pierced accusingly at the King of Knights.

Yet, most disturbingly of all, there was a smile on the Berserker’s face.

**“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUURRRRRRRR!”**

Lancelot shoved his former liege forward and pressed his assault with a bombardment of heavy slashes, each battering Arturia back several yards, her once unrivaled draconic aura shrinking after every blow from the other knight’s blade. Before long, the two black warriors had taken their battle out of sight.

Gilgamesh glanced down at his swords that Lancelot had used. Just like those that had surrounded the knight’s armor, the shadows had dissipated from the golden weapons. The King of Heroes snapped his fingers and the blades dissipated into dust.

“So, it seems that dog cannot maintain his hold on his stolen weapons once he has summoned his own,” the golden king noted. A frown still dominated his face. “So why can I still not sense what was taken from me?”

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Mordred called, tearing the lance that had paralyzed her out of her leg. “Don’t feel safe without an Anti-World Noble Phantasm to fall back on? Deal with it. The rest of us do.”

Gilgamesh turned back to Mordred and sneered. “It is truly amazing how much one can speak when they have absolutely nothing of value to say. I suppose I shall give this beautiful world a parting service and make sure you don’t waste any more of its air.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Jaune, drop the barrier!”

“Ruby, he’ll kill you!”

“He’s going to do that anywhere if he gets Mordred!”

Jaune nodded and dropped the wind barrier.

Ruby activated her semblance and rushed out into the field just as Gilgamesh aligned his portals at Mordred.

“Hey!” she shouted, placing herself right in front of the Knight of Treachery. “Remember me?”

“Ruby, what the hell are you doing?” Mordred hissed.

“Hoping I’ve gotten better at bluffing,” she whispered back to the Saber. She whirled back to Gilgamesh, who had cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. Ruby glared back as best she could, hoping her silver eyes would help her be more intimidating than she felt.

She really hoped Archer finished up with Assassin soon.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Archer really wished he could be done with Assassin already.

The two of them had dashed through the slums of Mistral, those few people who had not fled at the sound of the invasion siren and Excalibur’s attack running over each to escape the Counter Guardians’ crossfire. Archer wished he could have paid them more concern, but he had to keep up a constant barrage, lest his opponent use his far superior speed to close the distance and tear him to shreds. To that end, he unleashed scores upon scores of arrows downrange, each one demolishing a house when it landed and, more importantly, forcing Kiritsugu to swerve. The plan had been to eventually pin the old man down and finish him at long distance, far away from his firearms’ range.

Unfortunately, Kiritsugu soon proved himself one of the most frustrating opponents Archer had ever faced.

Barely a minute into their chase, his father had already deciphered Archer’s firing patterns, speeding through the hail of arrows with an efficiency that shouldn’t have even been possible if he’d aimed the projectiles himself. Combined with his unfathomable speed, and the fact that the man would seem to freeze in midair one second and then seemingly teleport to another position, and he was quickly gaining ground.

Archer thought quickly, for the millionth time grateful that his Eye of the Mind let him think things through even in such desperate combat situations. Without it, he’d never be able to sift through his endless arsenal to find the precise weapon he needed. He would probably just default to Kanshou and Bakuya every time.

Ironic that they were what he called upon now. Well, in a way.

Swiftly, he traced a pair of Kanshous directly onto his belt. After that, he traced Bakuya’s nature onto each arrow he notched and fired.

Every bolt, white as the purest dove, soared towards Assassin. Without breaking stride, Kiritsugu raced around the first half of the onslaught, his head lowered as he prepared to dodge the latter barrage.

Of course, the arrows that already passed him then registered that their mate was in the other direction.

In a feat that defied physics, the arrows behind Kiritsugu turned around and shot for his back like a pack of racehorses, the other half still descending on his front. With a hail of arrows coming from both sides, Assassin was pinned.

Or at least, that was the plan. It didn’t end up doing much when Kiritsugu turned completely around himself in a single blur and then darted off into a side alley.

Archer scowled as he dissipated his arrows back into _prana_. He leapt over to the Mistral Marketplace, where he and Iskandar had once argued about a video game of all things. The once vibrant bazaar was deserted, wares either completely absent or tossed about haphazardly, likely left behind in the scramble to get to safety.

The bowman hopped to the top of the tallest stall and loaded his bow with a trio of Bakuya arrows. His eyes scanned the bazaar top to bottom, desperately searching for any sign of his opponent. He needed to paralyze his foe long enough for him to get in and deal the crucial blow with Rule Breaker. To do that, he needed to sight Kiritsugu before the old man saw his attack, something exceptionally difficult to do when you were facing an opponent you couldn’t sense— _Eeeeeh_!

He sensed it in time, whirling around on the stall thatch roof just as Kiritsugu materialized behind him. Apparently, the wily bastard had taken the opportunity to revert to spirit form once he was out of sight in the alley. After that he’d just let his Presence Concealment do the work as he closed the range between them, eliminating Archer’s only advantage. Now, the Wrought Iron Hero was facing down the barrel of the Thompson Contender, an Origin Round ready to fire.

In hindsight, the bullet that had struck Mordred was probably not one of Kiritsugu’s secret weapons. Like Arturia, Mordred possessed a draconic Magic Core, a more expansive version of a mage’s magic circuits. It was what allowed them to use Prana Burst so freely. Thus, it raised the question of whether Assassin had used a regular bullet because there was some sort of limit on his number of Origin Rounds, or if he had spared Mordred intentionally as he had no desire to kill any more of them then he was forced to.

Of course, that was irrelevant because Assassin knew Archer was a mage going into the fight and Kirei’s Command Seal would give him no choice but to use his most powerful weapons. The rounds followed the magical energy from a mystery back to its source, so it didn’t matter if Archer was struck or blocked them head-on with a projection, either way, he would be toast.

Which made it just a bit terrifying when Kiritsugu pulled the trigger.

_“Archer, are you done with—"_

Archer didn’t have time to respond to Ruby’s mental query or to trace another weapon, so he shoved his bow downward and overloaded his arrows with _prana._ Despite their modifications, they were not Noble Phantasms, so the blast was not as extreme as one of his Broken Phantasms could be, but it still annihilated the stall beneath them and sent both Counter Guardians flying, the Origin Round missing wide.

The bowman flipped through the air and skidded on his knee as he landed.

 _‘Busy, master,’_ Archer answered Ruby hurriedly. _‘Call back later.’_

_“Right. Sorry.”_

Archer spared himself a brief moment to wonder what situation his master could possibly be in that she thought it was a good idea to distract him during combat, but he could pay no more mind to it. He charged into the bazaar, praying that he somehow found Kiritsugu before he reloaded the contender. It was a foolish miracle to wish for, but hey, a miracle was what he needed to free his father.

Otherwise, Kirei Kotomine would get exactly what he wanted.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Kirei Kotomine did not ever desire nor expect his current situation.

He’d never really paid much mind to Emerald during his time on Team CKSM. She was a street urchin who’d had a semblance that Cinder found useful and was manipulated into thinking the prospective Fall Maiden had cared about her. How that had happened when Cinder had been about as subtle as a brick when it came to personal interactions, Kirei did not know, but the green-haired girl’s devotion was as genuine as could be. Still, he hadn’t much cared to hunt her down either before or after the Fall. Cinder was a pawn for beginning the Grail War and Mercury had been a tool to get Adam on board with being a master. Honestly, Kirei had thought Emerald had gone with her partner to her death at the hands of the Blood-Soaked Bull.

In hindsight, he probably should have checked to make sure she was dead. But in his defense, he had far more interesting matters to look into at the time to be bothered with a pickpocket who _might_ have been out for vengeance.

Besides, if the Command Seals on her right hand were any indicator, killing her now would be far more useful. One more step towards the Grail and all.

Emerald charged straight for him, her kama drawn and ready. She threw her chains back as she advanced and then tugged them forward to send her blades spiraling towards him.

Or at least, that’s what she wanted him to think.

One of the benefits of his semblance enabled him to observe the battlefield at a far more diligent rate. And Understanding allowed him to pick out little details that most couldn’t notice in the heat of combat. Like say, the lack of a breeze from two swords being thrown straight at him.

He dropped into a ready stance and the kama soared straight through him, dissipating into harmless mist. That was the one true weakness of Emerald’s illusions. They could fool her target’s sight, hearing, even smell, but they could not mimic touch. The skin was the largest organ in the human body and it was just too expansive for the young thief’s semblance to trick. Even if she used her power to erase herself from his vision, all he had to do was wait until she struck him.

The eventual blow came at his side, landing far harder than he had expected. He was actually forced to stumble back a few steps. He had to apply reinforcement to his arms in order to move fast enough to snag the hidden arms out of the air, far more than he’d been pressed against any opponent save the maidens and Summer Rose herself. How in the world was Emerald of all people able to improve so dramatically?

He got his answer as soon as the illusion surrounding Emerald evaporated. Her arms, held tight in his grip, were covered with the same glowing green lines as his own, evidence of reinforcement magic. He was more than certain the young girl was no mage, so that meant her Servant must have been the Caster class. Ironic, the lackey who could never beat him had summoned the Heroic Spirit Class he was most likely able to defeat as well. One Origin Round to the mage and they would be done for.

Or he could just finish the master and save himself the trouble. It wasn’t like he’d need his ace to deal with his former teammate.

**Six Grand Opening- Elbow Upthrust.**

He already had Emerald’s arm in his grip, so he pushed in close and lashed out simultaneously at her heart and leg, sending the thief sprawling against the floor of Haven, her kama scattered across the paneling.

Kirei was about to continue his assault when a barrage of gunfire forced him to dodge. He leapt over the stairway and scrambled behind the peak of the structure for cover.

He took a moment to gain his bearings and noted that Blake was the shooter, the battered faunus balancing Gambol Shroud on her knees in its submachine gun form. He must have truly made an impression on her with his display at Beacon if she had chosen to shoot at him instead of the person who had literally just kicked her through a wall. Given his abilities however, it was far from a poor strategic choice.

A scowled marred his features as he realized Emerald had escaped his sight. The thief must have reactivated her semblance to hide herself. And with Blake’s impromptu cover fire, he couldn’t concentrate on waiting for her inevitable attack.

No matter. She might have been able to hide from him, but she could not hide from the Lord.

Six Black Keys slipped from his sleeves, three of the long blades emerging from each hand. He held those in his left palm under his mouth and reverently whispered his psalm. Then, like a snake lashing out to bite, he moved.

He leapt up from behind his cover, his swords flashing like a Beowolf’s claws to deflect Blake’s barrage. He landed in front of the pit Raven had descended down and threw his left keys into the air. Instantly, their steel hummed with the Father’s mighty will and dashed away towards seemingly empty air.

The blades rammed into one of the room’s many pillars, sizable cracks spreading across the structure. A feminine scream sounded and a moment later the empty air flickered, Emerald’s camouflage blown away like the early morning fog. The green-haired girl sank to the floor, recovering on her hands and knees.

That was one threat disposed of. Now for the other one.

He turned his full attention towards Blake, another trio of keys sliding out to replace the set he’d vacated from his left hand. Once again fully armed, he patiently deflected the young huntress’ assault, readily waiting for his moment of opportunity. That moment came when Gambol Shroud’s muzzle let loose a simple click instead of another dust round. Blake was a former elite member of the White Fang and a perfectly capable huntress. It would only take her the briefest moment to reload.

Unfortunately for her, it was all Kirei needed.

His Black Keys retracted into his sleeve and he exploded forth like a black cobra. He pulled his fist back, turquoise reinforcement flowing through his arm. The same blow he used to cripple Yang at the Vytal Festival came rocketing straight for his current foe.

Blake’s eyes widened in terror, Kirei already far too close for her to dodge. His fist landed on her stomach like a sledgehammer.

Her body dissipated into thin air, the shadow clone dying just as the real girl would have. The real Blake zoomed a few feet behind her former position, her body still flying back from the force of Kirei’s strike. She would not suffer as her partner had, but her aura still flickered and died.

And her weapon rose to counter-attack.

Kirei swiftly redrew his Black Keys, barely managing to alter his position to deflect the surprise assault. Ms. Belladonna had made up for her physical weakness with a crafty evasion and deft focus. It was enough to drive him back to the pit.

Still, she rolled awkwardly when she hit the ground, her reflexes sufficient to keep her on her feet, but not enough to make her appear anything remotely close to in control. A thin line of blood dripped from her lips even as she kept Gambol Shroud trained on his position.

It was over. Kirei spared a brief glance to Emerald behind him and while the girl rose to fight again, her legs held the distinctive wobble of fatigue. Despite their impromptu alliance, the two warriors had already worn each other down before engaging him, who had been completely fresh. While their odds of facing him when they were at full strength weren’t exceptional either, it their current state they stood no chance.

At least, that was what he’d thought before he heard the familiar cock of a shotgun gauntlet.

There was no war cry, no guttural howl of battle lust, or even a vengeful scream of ‘Robes’. Instead, he whirled around to see Yang Xiao-Long flying three feet from him and closing, eyes blazing crimson and mouth set in a stony, merciless scowl.

As she slammed into him, tackling the both of them down the pit her mother had ventured into only moments before, Kirei couldn’t help but smirk.

She wasn’t Ruby, but Yang’s lack of bluster and willingness to attempt to execute him without fanfare displayed growth he would not have expected from her back at Beacon. Perhaps it was her anguish over her father’s fate, her trials during the war, or perhaps merely the charisma of the King of Conquerors, but it seemed he had made more than one sister grow with his machinations. The older one still wasn’t anywhere near a Hero of Justice.

But perhaps she could provide him with some entertainment.

 

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Iskandar howled as his spatha sliced through another black zombie, Bucephalus viciously trampling the defeated corpse underfoot.

He raised his head and observed the battlefield. Darius’ men had proven themselves greater threats than he had anticipated. Though he had held the Athanaton Ten Thousand in the highest regard, their display now was far more troublesome than any previous encounter, which was saying something since _he_ had been the one outnumbered in all those past battles. However, now the black warriors fought with the strength of ten men, a hellish black mud dripping from their wounds as green flames blazed in their eyes.

Iskandar sighed. His eyes turned to the center of the chaos, where the titanic tattooed man batted aside Macedonian soldiers in droves, his flaming axes raging like an unquenchable power.

“You disappoint me, Darius,” he called glumly, an arrow from Mithrenes skewering a zombie who thought to get lucky while the king was speaking.

The former emperor of Persia whirled on him, his eyes wide and incredulous. “Disappointment, Iskandar? Will you feel as such when I take your head from your body?”

Iskandar shook his head. “You were a worthy foe if there ever was one, my friend. But this? You have sold yourself to All the World’s Evils for power. Where is the brilliant spirit that sought to smash the tempestuous upstart from the West? The Emperor who sought victory with every ounce of his own strength? I would be thrilled to face him, in victory or defeat, not some child who kneels to mud.”

“You dare lecture me?” Darius roared. “The Queen is a means to end! Her bargain was the only way I could return to face you, to finish our battle! If the terms dictate I must serve her in turn, then so be it! The world can burn so long as you and I duel amongst the ashes!”

“That’s the mud talking,” Iskandar snarled. “And if I fall here, it will be the mud that has slain me, not you.”

“ISKANDAR!”

Darius’s inferno erupted, and he barreled towards his rival like a tank. Iskandar raised his blade and charged in turn.

But unlike his opponent, the King of Conquerors was not alone.

That was the true strength of his Noble Phantasm. His Reality Marble did not abandon any of his honored companions, manifesting his army from its height of power upon his return from India. The force at his command numbered a hundred thousand, more than Darius had ever seen him lead. For the truth was, despite his rival’s worth, Iskandar had grown beyond him. Persia may have been his greatest conquest, but it was not his last. He had grown even further, and his hallowed friends had grown with him, some of the new additions even having fought for Darius against him once.

The Hetairoi was larger than the Athanton Ten Thousand, and in addition, was far more diverse. While all the black zombies were mighty spearmen, Iskandar had those plus swordsmen, archers, slingers, those that would be called barbarians who were stronger than the king himself, and even a few mages. And all of them were brought to their full potential in search of the brilliant horizon he had shown them.

The Ten Thousand were an elite troop among elite troops, but Ionian Hetairoi was the greatest army that had ever lived, and it would grow evermore as long as the sun never set.

Already, they had encircled their foes. Slowly but surely, the legion of Iskandar was tightening the noose on the hordes of Salem. The infernal zombies did not fall easily, but they did fall. Squads of men sequestered them from their fellows and slaughtered them bit by bit. Philotas, Cleitus, and Waver teamed up to bring down half a dozen on their lonesome.

All the while, Iskandar and Darius made straight for each other, one on foot and the other on horseback, their howls sundering the desert itself. Lightning flowed through Iskandar’s body and into his sword, racing to clash with Darius’ emerald inferno.

Neither would ever reach the other.

Every being on the battlefield, Ionian or Athanton, suddenly crashed down into the sand. They attempted to rise with all their strength, but their bodies refused to ascend as if they were pinned down by the hand on an angry god. The desert itself seemed to be compacting downward, the sand slowly condensing and hardening into glass.

“You!” Darius roared. “What is the meaning of this?”

Iskandar might have been puzzled about who his rival was referring to had he not felt this particular sensation of gravity before, during his brief participation in the battle at the White Fang Headquarters. His thoughts were confirmed when he saw Hazel Rainart stride between the restrained bodies of his soldiers.

Said soldiers reacted as expected, given who the man was.

“Bastard!”

“Cur!”

TRAITOR!!!” Waver screamed loudest of all.

Hazel paid them no heed. He simply marched up to Iskandar and looked the king straight in the eye. He squinted as if in recognition but shook his head a moment later.

“My semblance acts on your Noble Phantasm,” the hulking man explained. “Release the Reality Marble, and we can talk. You will not be harmed. You have my word.”

“Don’t do it, your highness!”

“It’s a trap!”

“He’s a traitor!” Waver raged.

“Cease this now, Rainart!” Darius howled. “He’s mine!”

Despite his men’s protests, despite the titanic weight that pressed him into the sand, and despite all common sense telling him otherwise, Iskandar could only smirk. The man before him was an enemy, of that he had no doubt. But it wasn’t like he was going to get anywhere if whatever the man’s powers were affecting his Reality Marble. Besides, Hazel had given him his word.

And there were few the King of Conquerors trusted more than him.

The world flashed white and the desert disappeared.

 

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Qrow morphed back into human form and rolled away just fast enough to dodge Watts’ spearing fingers.

In hindsight, he really should have figured that the mad doctor who’d given himself robot hands had also installed some kind of targeting system in them. It had been a nasty surprise when his usual trick of morphing in and out of his bird form to dodge attacks had been quickly negated, the whip like cables wrapping around his avian state and delivering enough electricity to turn him into fried chicken. Getting thrown out a window hadn’t been fun either.

The huntsman skidded across the ground before leaping back to his feet, Harbinger out and ready. His eyes quickly darted around and scanned the new environment, one of those tranquility gardens that Mistral claimed as a sign of cultural enlightenment. Half a dozen ponds were enclosed by several dozen patios of close-clipped grass. If it weren’t for the rampant scorch marks from Lancer and Caster’s passing duel, it probably would have been a calming scene.

As it was, Qrow was more concerned with the mad scientist stalking towards him, a look of livid fury across his face along with a mustache that had been bisected by a shotgun round, the hairs still singed. The huntsman had taken more than a few nasty blows, his aura was down to a third if that, but he’d given as good as he’d gotten, as several long slashes in the cyborg’s suit, a sparking right hand, and the aforementioned mustache proved.

“I am beginning to understand your sister’s temperament,” Watts snarled. “With a brother like you, it’s a wonder she didn’t turn out even more irritable.”

Qrow sighed. “Don’t go blaming me for Raven. She became a bitch all on her own.”

“I’ve found siblings tend to shape their better halves. Mine certainly did.”

“Ugh, look Merlot Jr.,” Qrow scowled. “I don’t who this sibling of yours is, but even if they were the biggest jackass on the planet, you’re still the one who’s working for the _Mother of Grimm_! I’d say the only one who’s responsible for the piece of shit you turned out to be is you. Now can we get back to trying to kill each other, or do you want to debate philosophy all day?”

Watts grinned like a mental patient. “In quite the hurry to die, are we?”

He threw out his left hand. His metal fingers lashed forward, the steel crackling with electricity.

Qrow feinted right and then pulled left. He slashed down with his scythe, trapping the fingers under its blade before using the leverage to hop over to the right himself, racing towards his opponent along the border of a pond.

Watts recalled his left hand and lashed out with his right, its spears jetting out like bullets.

Qrow barely managed to duck under the strike, the spear tips scratching the back of his neck, his aura crackling just a bit lower. It was a glancing blow at best, but he was getting so low on power that it would only take a few more to leave him vulnerable. He needed to end this now.

He extended Harbinger’s shotgun and fired six rounds into the fingers, each blast chipping away a bit more of his enemy’s aura until finally the energy field flickered and died on the fifth blast, with the sixth taking a small chunk out of the metal.

Unfortunately, auraless didn’t necessarily mean defenseless. Watts’ left hand came flying in before Qrow could reorient himself to take a shot at the newly open doctor. Combined with its right counterpart, the two metal extensions made to sweep the huntsman into the water.

Qrow moved fast, leaping over the right fingers and wrapping Harbinger around them as he went. He carried the cables over his head and threw them into the pond, transforming into a bird before he himself could touch the water.

Watts’ left whips came up to strike him. “You fool!” he gloated. “Do you really think I haven’t installed safeguards for if my attachments fall into water without my aura to protect them? You have failed in the face of my genius—”

His right fingers struck the pond and a surge of electricity surged upward through the metal. Watts’ left whip collapsed just inches from Qrow as the good doctor spasmed from the sparks. He pulled his cybernetics from the water just a moment later, coughing madly.

“Impossible,” the doctor rasped. “The surge protectors were spread throughout the superstructure. The chances of you hitting a critical zone are three hundred thirteen thousand—”

Qrow transformed back to human and cut the bastard off with a dust slug to the head. Watts body crumpled onto the tranquil grass, his blood providing a visceral crimson stain to all-encompassing emerald.

The huntsman landed beside his fallen foe and panted for breath. “What can I say? Bad luck on your part, pal.”

He probably would have groaned at having finally succumbed to Tai and Yang’s terrible puns, but the cannon shot to the back prevented him from reprimanding himself.

The force of the sudden blast rolled him away, his aura reduced to barely sparks. His exhausted body clamored to its knees, his eyes wide at the new threat.

Weiss Alter stood across the pond from him, six black glyphs above her head, two Queen Lancers at her side, and a cold malicious twinkle in her eyes.

“Funny. I was going to say the same thing about you.”

 

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The last thing Yang had expected when she’d charged into Haven looking for her mom had been to find Kirei delivering a smackdown to her partner.

Of course, remembering the last time he had encountered someone she cared about, she’d rushed to get him away from Blake as fast as possible, coming in hard, fast, and without a sound. She’d tackled him into the hole behind him, the both of them plummeting into oblivion, lit only by the fluorescent lights embedded into the walls of the pit.

Even that had been a calculated choice. She knew from Kirei’s fights at Beacon that his martial arts placed heavy importance on strength from footing. By taking their battle into a freefall, she removed that advantage. Sure, her own style drew a fair bit of power from her legs as well, but she was far more concerned about Kirei ending the fight in one blow like at the Vyal Festival.

Besides, she had shotgun gauntlets to maneuver in midair. He didn’t.

Ember Celica flashed, and Yang delivered two dust slugs straight to the bastard’s chest, driving the air from his lungs. The recoil paused her descent at the same moment the blast sent Kirei hurdling down even faster.

Not wanting to give up her momentum, she thrust her arms forward over and over again, each punch both breaking her fall and sending more firepower hurdling down at her enemy.

Kirei spun himself so he faced upwards towards her. His Black Keys sprouted from his hands and lanced out to deflect her bombardment. The diverted dust smashed into the pit’s walls, a haze of smog rising in their wake.

Yang angled her bracers behind her, changing the recoil from a brake into an accelerator, charging towards her father’s assailant. The Black Keys were effective ranged weapons, but as Kirei himself had told Ruby, they were too unwieldy to use effectively at close quarters. And despite their length, they were still too short to reach the pit’s walls and slow their master’s descent from his position in the exact center of the hole. If Yang could get in close and keep the pressure on, she wouldn’t even have to kill Kirei herself, she could just let gravity do it for her when he went splat against the inevitable floor.

She just had to keep in control. As long as she didn’t get angry, as long as she measured herself, she could take him. She had the advantage. She could do this.

She’d punch him in his smug prick face.

The pit’s lights flickered.

Kirei whirled himself around and threw his left keys into the wall further down. The three steel blades embedded themselves into the metal like shovels into fine soil.

When the priest fell to them, he reached out with his remaining set and hooked the swords between each other. He twisted them and locked the pair together, making up for the individual’s length by combining them. He flipped himself up with his momentum and landed standing up, his blades embedded in the wall edging downward as they bore his weight.

Yang’s eyes widened as she plummeted to his level. She braced her arms in front of her face as Kirei threw a brutal fist. The punch landed like a sledgehammer and sent her flying towards the opposite wall of the pit.

Yang absorbed the blow and twisted herself so that her feet struck the wall. And with the force she’d landed with, that gave her footing for just an instant.

Kirei caught her blazing eyes and flashed a cool, cocky smirk. The bastard bunched his legs upon his quickly slipping swords.

They both launched themselves at each other like rockets, the priest unstable footing breaking free and fading into the depths.

Yang and Kirei collided, their fists flying at each other like two swarms of rapier wasps. Neither of them could bring their full power to bare, so they just pummeled each other with everything they had as they plummeted through the air, the bracing wind rushing past their faces like a furious third combatant.

The blond huntress grunted with each blow she took, but silently her mind was working overtime. While each of Kirei’s blows took a chunk out of her aura, she could endure them all. And with that endurance, her semblance added more and more strength to the already impressive stockpile Iskandar had given her. Along with the damage she was undoubtedly doing to her enemy’s own aura, and things were slowly turning to Yang’s advantage.

A brilliant, but not unnatural glow of orange suddenly radiated out from below the two combatants. Both of them knew they were approaching the bottom. If there was a move to be made, they needed to make it now if they wanted time to prepare a safe landing.

Yang thrust her gauntlets downward, the recoil blasting her into the air. Kirei took the bullets, but only to give himself the momentum to get closer to the pit’s walls. He thrust out another pair of Black Keys and pulled himself onto the hold.

For a single moment, the two caught each other in the eyes, vengeful crimson glaring into twinkling darkness.

Kirei smirked. His magic circuits flared a treacherous turquoise, illuminating every one of his limbs. He dropped down and assumed a familiar stance, a modified version of the move he’d used on her at the Vytal Festival.

That was the final straw.

She’d gathered her strength, she’d planned her moment, she knew what her enemy could do. She’d done all she could. Now was the time for power.

Her hair erupted like the tail of a titanic comet, flames igniting and incinerating the air above her. The dam of reason shattered within her and the fury of her enemy, her friends, and her Servant raged through her veins.

At last, she roared as she was always meant to, and the golden sun dragon descended for vengeance.

Their fists collided, and the pit ignited, day and night warring for supremacy. The dark one was unrelenting, his might slightly less than his foe’s but his will unbreakable. He pushed and pushed and pushed, daring the day to quit, to give up. To lie down and die like a down.

But the day would not. She had a dream to live, and she would not surrender it to sleep.

The sun howled once more, and though she could not break the night, she could force him away for a while.

Kirei’s aura shattered against Yang’s blow, his arm squirting streams of blood as the bones within snapped like twigs. The priest was sent hurdling down to the bottom of the pit, the stone floor splintering when he struck.

Yang fired Ember Celica half a dozen more times to float to the bottom of the chasm. She rolled out of the pit and away from Kirei, tumbling flat on her face, her body completely exhausted from the clash. Despite that, there was a victorious smirk across her face.

“How’s that… for a lost little girl… eh?” she panted, struggling to her knees. Her little remaining aura worked overtime to try to restore her muscles to working condition, but just like Nora had explained from her own experiences, channeling the strength of a Heroic Spirit was hell on the body. It would take a few minutes to for her to be able to stand.

She took the opportunity to take a look at her new surroundings. She’d landed on a stone bridge that led to an island that seemed to float in the middle of the cave. Several massive oak trees surrounded a titanic golden gateway.

A gateway that was open, an endless desert, sort of like Iskandar’s Reality Marble, extending within its holds.

And standing before it was a familiar, crimson-robed _bitch_.

“Yang?” Raven gasped. “Wha… What are you doing here?”

Yang’s eyes narrowed at the woman who’d birthed her, the infernal red not fading from their irises. Suddenly, standing was much, much easier.

 

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Iskandar groaned as he rose to his feet. Just as Hazel had promised, he was free from that infernal gravity ability. The man himself stood a few yards across from him on the grassy plain before Mistral, Darius nearly foaming at the mouth behind him.

Still, this was the first time, the King of Conquerors had gotten a good and proper look, without undergoing a retreat or being trapped by his semblance, at the Queen of the Grimm’s most trusted underling. He was a bit taller than Iskandar himself, if only slightly less bulky. His thick arms were nearly completely covered with dark hair, the same with his chin. And his eyes, so deep and so brown. So empty.

It broke Iskandar’s heart.

“You know,” he called out to the man. “When I suggested that you put on a bit of muscle, this wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

Hazel’s broken eyes narrowed. “You… who… who are you?”

“He is the King of Conquerors!” Darius shouted. “Now stand aside so we may end this—Argh!”

Black lines of mud spasmed across Darius’ face. He growled at their presence but settled down eventually, albeit with fury still alight in his emerald eyes.

Hazel raised an eyebrow. “You… did I know you? At some time?”

Iskandar’s eyes closed in shame. There wasn’t much that required the King of Conquerors to compose himself, even less that could do so when he was forewarned of their existence, but this was hardly a common case. It was not every day he failed his friend.

“Yes. Yes, you do know me, Waver.”


	61. Wrought Iron vs. Mage Killer

Waver.

Hazel did not know why, but the name was like a crack of thunder against the complacent sky of his mind. As soon as the word left the King of Conquerors' mouth, clouds swarmed into his head, flashes of images alien yet oh so familiar swarming his consciousness.

_A sprawling complex with a Clocktower at its head. Fury at being belittled and demeaned._

_Shadows leaking through a dense forest, a sigil of blood painted across the grass. A chance to prove one’s worth._

_A boisterous laugh atop a chariot of lightning. A forceful smack that could just as easily grant a gentle pat._

_A desert. Proof of an unquenchable ambition and boundless will._

_A mantle of crimson that made the world seem so big, so wondrous._

His heart, so long steady and lifeless, suddenly pounded like a stampede of horse hoofs. For just a moment, the haze of his endless existence seemed to lighten, a dreadful hope igniting in his soul.

But then the images continued. And the dream became a nightmare.

_A bridge. Scarlet steel weaved a passage across a moonlit river. And at its end was him, the golden king._

_Gilgamesh._

_He drew his sword and the wondrous desert crumbled to ash, its ambition insufficient in the end. The crimson mantle disintegrated into starlight, the blood that had stained it lost once more._

_There was a boy. A scared little boy. A loyal little boy. The boy had stood before two kings. One, he had defied, declared his truth. The truth given to him by the other. The King of—_

_Conquerors._

_The King of Conquerors had given him his truth. His order._

_He had ordered him to live._

“Waver… was that my name? Before I knew her?”

The King of Conquerors nodded, his eternally grinning face drooped in sorrow. “The you in my Reality Marble informed me of your existence a while ago. He told me what he could of what happened, of how you became as you are now, but there were quite a few gaps.”

Hazel chuckled. It was a dry sound, a pitying amusement, though towards himself or Iskandar, he could not tell. It was more than a bit surprising that this alternate version had been able to access any portion of his past, especially since he himself could barely remember any details. All he recalled from the corruption’s first appearance was an unfathomable darkness screaming through the sky, a firmament of mud descending as far as the eye could see. He would have burned along with the city if a surge of pink flower petals had not whisked him away. Ozpin’s work, when Gaia had only just released him and before his curse had reduced him. He had wanted information from ground zero and he’d hoped the last surviving master of the war would be able to help him. Unfortunately, Hazel had been just as confused as anyone.

Still, the two stuck together and worked to beat back the darkness that had encompassed the world, a journey that led to many adventures.

_The girl in the cold castle._

_The creation of aura and his birth as its first wielder._

_Their near victory, nearly annihilating their foe in the land of snow._

_His mistake. His compassion and the hell it had led to._

_His final rebirth._

“I am the Last Hero,” he declared quietly.

Iskandar cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, I was curious about that nonsense. ‘Last Hero?’ I’ve been in this world for a few weeks and I’ve already seen half a dozen worthy of the Throne. Surely, there must have been some in Remnant’s history to make the journey.”

“Many worthy. None who could.” Hazel looked down in shame. “At the moment of my death, the Queen reached into my soul. As the Throne attempted to record my existence, she lashed out at it. It pushed me out to repulse her, prevent her from letting her evil sink in through its expanse. At the same moment, she manifested me as I am now. Or rather, summoned me.”

“You’re an Alter?”

“How do you think she learned to create the Grimm?” Hazel pointed out. “None of her attempts ever yielded the same strength as me though. At least not until she indoctrinated the Schnee girl.”

The King of Conquerors frowned. “The Throne… it’s still trying to record your legend. The process usually takes less than an instant, but it can’t begin it anew for another until yours has been completed.”

“Which requires me to be freed from this corrupted shell. To die.” Hazel revealed. “A bit difficult given my second Noble Phantasm, I Have Been Ordered to Live, Devotion to the Final Order of the Conqueror.”

“Waver…”

“That name no longer has any meaning for me,” he countered softly. “Hazel Rainart is the name I choose.”

“Even still, I am sorry.” Iskandar professed. “I never thought this would happen.”

Hazel shook his head. “How could have known? This isn’t your fault. I chose this. I resisted the Queen’s arguments for an eon before I finally chose her side.”

The King of Conquerors hunched his shoulders, his grip tightening around his sword. “And why did you?”

A scowl marred Hazel’s visage. “ _Ozpin_.” His fists clenched just saying the name. “He sent her to die.”

“Who?”

“Gretchen. My sister, the one who named me. He let her into Beacon even though he knew she wasn’t ready, and he got her killed.”

“Fighting the Grimm?” Iskandar asked incredulously. “It seems like you’re blaming the wrong side.”

“She shouldn’t have even been there!” Hazel roared. “She shouldn’t have even been at Beacon! Ozpin knew that, and he still sent her to die!”

He took several deep breaths, his calm slowly sinking back in. “There’s no point. Salem is going to win. Ozpin keeps sinking to lower and lower depths to try to stop her and none of it is working. There is no victory in strength. There’s no point in drawing out the agony. We need to put this world out of its misery. Of going on, and on, and on, and on… without end… without light… only pain.”

Iskandar frowned. “So you’ll give up? You’ll allow yourself to be conquered _without_ a fight?”

“I did fight,” Hazel refuted. “And I lost. We all did. Ozpin just deludes himself that the world isn’t already hers. But even the mightiest fall to the absolute. Even him. Even you. My memory before my rebirth is spotty at best, but I have never forgotten the lesson of the bridge.”

“You understood it far better back then.”

For a moment, he and the King of Conquerors just stood there, staring into eyes that once brought so much hope to each of them, Darius barring his fangs behind them. Hazel found it somewhat irritating, but he supposed the emperor was justified in his rage. His battle had been interrupted.

Hazel honestly didn’t know why he’d intervened as he had. Preventing Darius from losing was one thing, but not ending the King of Conquerors when he had the chance was another. Even now he could kill the man with a flick of his semblance and then sending Darius to end it. The Queen whispered furiously for him to do so.

But he couldn’t.

Hazel Rainart had sworn himself to All the World’s Evils in exchange for vengeance and an end to all suffering.

But the man he had been so long ago, this… Waver Velvet. He had been bound to a different sovereign.

And while his new oath prevented him from taking the King of Conquerors’ side, he would not strike him down either.

“Let’s go. The others require our assistance in the city”

“We’re not finished,” Darius snarled. “Do you really think I will back down when he is right in front of me?”

Hazel raised an eyebrow. “Are you willing to claim a victory brought about by my interference? What conquest is that?”

Darius growled but a surge of black lines across his body brought him to heel. Hazel felt those very same lines ghost across his own flesh, urging him to unite with the other Alter and obliterate the Rider, but he would not budge. If Iskandar was to fall at the end of the war, it would be in a fair fight.

The man himself seemed to disagree. “You don’t really think I’m going to let you pass without a fight, do you, old friend?”

Hazel answered by raising his hand. The King of Conquerors fell to his knees.

“The Last shall be the bane of the First,” the King of Aura proclaimed. “My powers increase the older the foe I face. And you were ancient when we first met, your majesty.”

He rose several yards into the air, Darius’ elephant proving an able mount. The mighty beast marched forward, quicker than one would expect from a creature of its size. Soon, they were closer to the walls of Mistral than Iskandar.

With the chaos going on within, who knew how long those walls would remain standing? Or who would be left within them?

 

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Ruby did not know how she was getting out of this one.

Mordred was down, Lancelot had taken Saber Alter away, and Archer was still off dealing with Assassin. Jaune was nearly out of power and Mr. Arc was unconscious.

And towering in front of her was the most powerful Heroic Spirit in the Throne, the man who’d killed her mother. A quartet of shimmering portals aimed swords older than she could possibly imagine straight at her head.

She had forced Gilgamesh to retreat at Beacon, but that had been more luck than anything else. Seeing what had happened to Pyrrha and what had been about to happen to Jaune and Arturia had triggered something within her, an emotional floodgate unwilling to lose anyone else. She’d come far with her silver eyes since then, but she had no idea how to access that level of power, much less aim it so it didn’t take out Mordred like it had Arturia.

Of course, her enemy didn’t know that. If she played this right, maybe she could stall him long enough for Archer to finish up with Assassin, or at least until Mordred regrouped enough to take her family and run. It was the longest of long shots, but it was the only thing she could think of. Besides, she was a sniper. Long shots were her thing.

That would be so much more encouraging if her prized rifle wasn’t scattered all over the courtyard.

Ruby mustered all the ‘Weiss speak’ she could and prayed she had her junctures right.

“King of Heroes,” she called, scrunching her nose to look intimidating. “This battle has gone on long enough. We are allies of Iskandar the Conqueror. We have no quarrel with you.”

“No quarrel!” Mordred screeched. “He just tried to murder—”

Ruby glared back at her, the Saber Servant flinching away from her sparking, pleading silver eyes. She was perfectly aware that they had many, _many_ quarrels with Gilgamesh. From enabling Kirei to do what he’d done, to trying to murder the Arc family, and even executing Ruby’s own mother, they had every reason to want to defeat him.

But from a tactical standpoint, he had no reason to want them dead. From what Yang had told her about her and Iskandar’s encounter with him in the restaurant, Gilgamesh had no desire to use the Grail if he didn’t have to. Him being aware of Raven’s survival provided him an alternate route, one he far preferred to the wish granter, which meant he wouldn’t kill them for the war. The fact that they were both allies to Iskandar, who he apparently liked, and enemies to Saber Alter, who he apparently didn’t, only reinforced that.

Actually, that gave her an idea.

“Your enemies are our enemies!” Ruby declared, turning back to the tyrant. “Don’t muddy your treasury by marring your blades with Saber Alter’s blood. Mordred and Jaune have their own business to finish with her, and I am responsible for her corruption being possible in the first place. Give us a chance to atone for our sins, just as you with Lancelot, your grace, I beseech you.”

Gilgamesh’s blades did not avert their aim, but an amused twinkle did sparkle through his crimson eyes. A good-hearted chuckle burst out of his throat, bit by bit erupting into a full-blown fit of laughter.

Jaune and Mordred both cringed at the chortle, but it granted Ruby a tinge of hope. “So… is that a yes?”

Gilgamesh’s laughter ceased, and he grinned down at the young huntress. “You certainly share the King of Conquerors’ aptitude for humor, I will grant you that, mongrel. Though, you lack his master’s wisdom.”

“Yang always said she was the sensible sister,” Ruby replied, her fists clenching in readiness for a fight.

“Sister? How intriguing.” Gilgamesh noted. “Nevertheless, your plea is pointless and insulting, child. My treasury is already stained with Saber’s corruption, but her infidelity began long before the mud touched her. These bastards and replicas merely mock her former pristine beauty with their imitation. The mad dog can execute the wretched remains of her body. But the parasites that will remain after she is gone, cannibalizing her memory with their inferior existences, those I will not permit to live.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby screeched. “Let me get this straight, you don’t think they’ve done anything wrong, you just think they’re—”

“An insult to Saber’s striving and her rarity as my treasure. A child cannot surpass their parent, thus their inferior efforts, indeed their mere existence as reminders of her infidelity, reduce the worth of the legacy they left behind,” Gilgamesh explained. “Thus, they cannot be allowed to live and tarnish the value of my treasure. It is the law.”

Ruby eyes narrowed. She desperately tried to rein in her temper, but to hear her friends and all their relentless efforts to improve, Jaune’s training to become a huntsman and Mordred’s passion to carve her own identity, to hear them all dismissed as meaningless infuriated her to no end. As Archer had once said, there was no shame in standing on the legends of others, so long as you fought to honor them in all you did. And the children of Arturia had done just that, building off the King of Knights’ heroics to forge their own paths.

She would not let those labors be slandered as insults.

Silver light flooded her vision.

“You’re wrong, King of Heroes. A child can surpass their parent. For one, I’m pretty sure my mom never did the kind of damage I did to you at the Fall. And I’ll do it again if you don’t back off!”

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow and snorted. “If you could duplicate your feat from the tower, you would have done so already. Do not try to bluff against a king, child. That said…”

His smirk descended into a curious frown. “Your abilities are undeniably more potent than your _thief_ of a sire. Suspiciously so. Therefore, though Saber’s bastards must perish, I shall give you a single chance to receive the king’s mercy.”

Ruby wanted to tell him he could shove his mercy in the place Yang didn’t think she knew about, but she came to her senses before she spoke. He knew she couldn’t replicate her power from the Fall, and even if she did by some miracle pull it off, she would still kill Mordred. Their best option was to stall and wait for Archer.

She gritted her teeth. “What do you want?”

“Answer this question. Where is my stolen treasure?”

“Huh?” Ruby exclaimed, caught off guard by his words. “The one Raven and mom took? Your sword? How am I supposed to know about that?”

Gilgamesh scowled, disappointment marring his face. “You truly do not know. A pity.”

He snapped his fingers. The portals behind him quadrupled, half of them turning towards Jaune, who was helping a newly awake Nicholas to his feet. Brillant, golden weapons slowly edged out of their hold.

Ruby heard Mordred’s lightning crackle behind her. Her silver eyes narrowed at their enemy. It looked like stalling was out.

She still had one Command Seal. If things got dire, and she couldn’t get the others out, she could always teleport Archer back to save them. But aside from the long-term implications of such a move, Assassin would also be drawn back to them and dealing with both him and Gilgamesh would be next to impossible. No, they were on their own.

Which was just another way of saying they were doomed.

Suddenly, the weapons in the portals froze. Gilgamesh’s eyes briefly widened, his head tilted to the side as if he was listening to something the rest of them could not hear. His gaze turned off towards the center of the city.

“ _Thief_.”

He opened a portal in front of him and stepped through.

The rest of them just stood there, staring at the empty space that had just held their doom.

“Wha—Where did he go?” Mordred whispered. “He wouldn’t run. He had us dead to rights.”

Wow, if the Knight of Treachery was admitting how bad their situation had been, they really had been doomed. Which unfortunately meant her question had merit. Gilgamesh had looked towards the middle of the city, but with the chaos from the Grimm invasion, the only thing of note in that direction was… oh no.

“Haven.” Jaune realized at the same moment she did. He turned to his father. “Dad, are you—”

“I’ll be fine. I can make it to the girls,” he shouted urgently, leaning on the sheathed Excalibur. “Go help your friends.”

Jaune nodded and let his father go. He and Ruby both dashed over to Mordred, who held them both close to her in a tight hug.

“Hang on,” she warned them.

A moment later, she’d taken a titanic leap and they were soaring through the air.

They needed to get there in time. Blake, Uncle Qrow, Oscar, and Ozpin would have their hands full as it was with Salem’s forces. They couldn’t hope to take on Gilgamesh as well. Heck, even if they did get there in time, their previous encounter proved just how limited they all were against the King of Heroes. All except for one.

What in the world was taking Archer so long?

 

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Archer carefully stalked through the shadow of the marketplace, his hands prickling with _prana_ , just waiting to be fired into a projection.

He couldn’t risk making anything too big in case Kiritsugu took a potshot at the weapon without him noticing. If any of his projections were hit with an Origin Round, he was dead. Which was quite infuriating when it rendered his usual strategy of leaving openings so he knew where to _block_ effectively useless. Combined with Assassin’s speed and Presence Concealment and he was at a major disadvantage now that the battle had slipped into close combat. If he tried to regain his distance, he’d be run down, but if he stayed up close he would be vulnerable, unless he could see into the future or… wait…

His Eye of the Mind flashed through his Reality Marble, searching its endless plains for the exact weapon he needed. Not a blade, but a weapon his class was named for.

The bow materialized into his hands from dots of glimmering sapphire. It was shorter than his usual choice, more suited for a cavalry archer than the longbow he normally summoned. He supposed that was to be expected given its original owner. The Sage of Heroes had been a centaur after all.

Being summoned back to Ancient Greece hadn’t been the most pleasant experience he’d ever had in his illustrious career as a Counter Guardian, he was pretty sure he nearly got killed by Hercules _again_ , but it had provided him with the bow of the legendary centaur Chiron, teacher of many great heroes and, more importantly in this instance, the son of the Titan of Time Kronos. Which happened to provide him with some mild Clairvoyance, not as powerful as Merlin or the King of Magic’s, but combined with his Eye of the Mind, it should give him an idea of where Kiritsugu’s next attack was coming fro—oh god! He was right behind him!

Archer whirled around, the bow rising horizontally like a quarterstaff. He smacked the barrels of the Contender and the Calico into the air, both shots spraying into the sky.

The bullets had barely left the guns before Kiritsugu had pulled out by a hair of a step and lowered them back down, the Contender’s breach opened and reloaded in a simultaneous blur.

The bow of the sage disappeared and Kanshou and Bakuya flashed into existence. His blades darted out, less trying to actually cut Kiritsugu than occupy the space he needed to aim at him. He supposed it would have looked a bit like gun kata, if gun kata was a technique that was commonly practiced. After all, anyone who would have the skill to try to repeatedly aim their firearms at such close range would also have the tactical awareness to recognize that simply physically assaulting them would be a much more practical alternative—Ah!

Assassin’s stomp on his knee was unpleasant, to say the least. Not anything truly threatening, he was wearing armor and had handled far worse pain in his life. Still, that did not change the fact that legs were not meant to try to bend that way.

His brief flinch allowed Assassin to gain a slight lead in their little death race. Already, both his firearms were coming into position. A moment more and he would shoot. Archer needed to force him to retreat _now_ or he was dead. But Time Alter’s ability to let him slow down his perception of reality, letting him see where every strike was coming from and react accordingly without needing to throw off his aim. He could dodge any weapon, let alone Rule Breaker, so long as he knew where they were coming from.

Fortunately, Archer had encountered one Servant whose attacks were unreadable to any enemy.

Kanshou and Bakuya evaporated, and the short swords were replaced with something just a _bit_ longer.

Even under his thick wrapping, Archer thought he could see Kiritsugu’s eyes widen.

The old man leapt back several yards from Archer, just barely escaping the opening flick of the one hundred and fifty-centimeter long Monohoshi-Zao. A gift from a fellow fake, a nameless swordsman asked to fill the role of Sasaki Kojiro.

Even if the Assassin of that war had not truly been one of Japan’s most legendary swordsmen, he’d certainly had the skill to play the part. His Eye of the Mind was one rank higher than Archer’s own, opening up patterns in Kiritsugu’s movement he could not have perceived before. His Knowledge of Respect and Harmony prevented the enemy’s eye from reading his strikes, for such inferior sword swings as could be read were never unleashed from that man. And now, all his skills at least temporarily belonged to the Servant of the Bow.

Archer had gained an advantage in close range. But if Assassin could retreat another ten yards or so, a quite plausible feat considering his speed, he could force Archer to bring his sword up to deflect fire from his Calico and then unleash an Origin Round while his defenses were raised. The first gun would kill him if he dodged and the second would annihilate him if he didn’t.

There was one possible counter. The blade in Archer’s hand had one more skill ingrained in its steel and they were on the level ground it required. With the absurd length of the sword, it was possible that he could get the assault in before Assassin could get out of the way.

But if it landed the way he’d need it to land, it would kill him. And Archer did not want to kill his father. He wanted to save him. He needed to save him. He couldn’t let him down. He had to free him from Kirei’s hold.

He’d find another way. He still had the barest moment of moments before the threat became unavoidable. He was already searching his Reality Marble for—

_“Archer!”_

_‘Ruby, I told you—’_

_“Gilgamesh is at Haven. We’re headed after him. Join us after you’re done with Assassin.”_

_‘What? Ruby, what are—’_

His master didn’t respond, or maybe his attention shifted back to his present situation before he could hear it. Either way, his mind churned with fury.

They had encountered Gilgamesh. Maybe Kirei had somehow learned of his Reality Marble and had sent his Servant to draw Archer away while the King of Heroes attacked. The priest had always possessed an annoying habit of mixing his sadistic tendencies with irritatingly competent tactics.

Nonetheless, Archer’s goals shifted instantly.

He wanted to save his father. He wanted to save his father _so_ badly.

But Ruby, foolish, honest, simple, courageous Ruby was going after Gilgamesh. Because her teammate, her uncle, and her friends were there, and she would never leave them to fight the King of Heroes alone.

And he would never leave her to do it alone. As her Servant and as her family, he would not let her die to the golden king. She stood a better chance than most, but that just meant she’d die slightly slower, even if his suspicions turned out to be correct.

He would not let her die when he could do something to stop it.

Which meant…

…

“I’m sorry.”

He tapped into the final skill of the blade and suddenly his father was only a bird.

His first slash was horizontal, surrounding his father. The second was vertical, cutting off any escape by fleeing to the skies. The final strike wrapped around to prevent any retreat left or right, and the masterpiece of the one who would challenge god with mere human skill was complete.

“ **Tsubame Gaeshi- Swallow Reversal!** ”

One sword became three and lashed out to annihilate the Mage Killer.

Unfortunately, Archer had hesitated too long. In his single moment of consideration after Ruby’s message, Kiritsugu had already been in the process of retreating directly backwards. If he had moved even an inch more to the side, or been even an instant slower, he would have been torn to bits. As it was, the strikes only managed to tear the Calico from his grip, the machine pistol having already risen to begin its assault. It left him with only one gun, but it was still a lucky break on the old man’s part.

But his luck wasn’t good enough to save him from one weapon. And he’d just retreated to the perfect range for its use.

Sasaki Kojiro’s sword disappeared from Archer’s grip. He dropped his foot back and raised his hands into position to wield his new armament.

“ _I am the Bone of my Sword._ ”

The first line of his aria rippled through his Reality Marble, pulling the exact weapon he needed into the real world immediately. Just as Kiritsugu raised his Contender, Archer now held a magnificent crimson spear, with far fewer spikes than the one he’d faced at Kuroyuri, but with no less bloodlust.

The bowman stabbed forward with the Barbed Spear that Pierces with Death.

“ **Gae Bolg!** ”

A line of scarlet light erupted out of the fearsome lance, darting through the air towards Assassin just as he aimed his own weapon. The man’s visage blurred, his Time Alter boosting his speed and he dodged.

And then he didn’t.

Because his heart had already been pierced. And thus, Archer had stabbed.

The universe blurred as causality reversed, the bolt of crimson light twisting and ramming Kiritsugu through the chest. The Assassin coughed up a clot of blood and went flying, smashing through half a dozen abandoned stalls and being buried under a pile of their rubble.

Archer heaved out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and sank to his knees, his projection evaporating into nothingness.

It was over. Surviving Gae Bolg’s causality reversal required an exuberant amount of luck. Saber had barely done it with her own B Rank. Assassins weren’t known for their proficiency in that parameter and from what he’d seen, Kiritsugu’s was equal to his own, the worst of the worst.

Still, he kept his eyes on the heap of rubble. He’d never known his father to give up easy, and he could imagine that having been manifested as some sort of Battle Continuation when he was summoned as a Servant. If he turned his back, he might be shot while he was off guard. He cycled through what information on Kiritsugu’s skills he was able to gleam from his weapons.

Magecraft. Scapegoat. Affections of the Holy Grail? That was a new one. His limitations with firearm tracing kept him from learning what it was, but it sounded quite interesting.

Nevertheless, none of them were Battle Continuation. Which meant since the spear had struck Kiritsugu’s heart, the old man was dead. His father was dead. He’d killed him.

A tear trickled down from his eye.

He wiped it away and rose to his feet. There was no time to wallow in his failure. He’d chosen to face Assassin alone, which meant that Ruby’s answer could not apply. He’d had to choose between his father and his niece and he’d chosen the latter. He didn’t regret that. He merely regretted that he couldn’t have chosen to save both.

And if he didn’t get to Haven quickly, he would have chosen neither. Using two Noble Phantasms back to back had drained his _prana_ reserves, but if he conserved energy by traveling in spirit form, he should still have enough power to do what he’d need to against Gilgamesh.

He took one more look at the rubble pile. He sensed no magical energy, just as when the man had hidden himself. Somehow though, it felt emptier now.

“I’m sorry, father.”

Archer dissipated into spirit form and darted towards Haven. If he moved fast, he might be able to keep anybody else from getting killed.

If he’d stayed a few moments more, he might have seen the top of the pile shift.

 

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Weiss narrowed her eyes as Qrow darted forward. She snapped her fingers, sending her six spectral swords barreling down range. The desperate huntsmen dodged as best he could, but his moves were sluggish, off-kilter. His duel with Watts must have taken more out of him than she thought.

One of the black blades clipped his side as he advanced, not halting his charge, but slowing it for a crucial instant, his aura flickering as it struggled to maintain its existence.

Her Queen Lancers swarmed him in that instant, the wasp-like Grimm charging forward with pincers ready. Their connected stingers shot out to impale their limping prey.

Qrow twisted his body, the movement throwing of the stingers’ aim and making it so they landed glancing blows instead of running him through. His scythe, the inspiration for Crescent Rose, no doubt, lashed out and actually severed one of the stinger’s links to their Grimm.

Weiss frowned, not a word passing her lips. At Kuroyuri, she had talked her friends’ ears off, unknowingly desperate to not let them be killed by her hands. But this was not the case now.

Now, Qrow Branwen would die. And the lie of goodness he’d used to blind Ruby and Yang would die with him.

She lowered Myrtenaster and stabbed the black tip into the ground. A dark glyph with the face of a racing clock appeared beneath her feet.

Only a few yards away, Qrow frantically danced between the Queen Lancers, his scythe flickering out to deflect their pincers even as his aura collapsed to nothingness. He fired the weapon’s built-in shotgun towards the ground and propelled himself into the air. The Lancer without a stinger charged straight for the prey that had invaded its territory, its pincers raised for the kill.

Unfortunately, the other Lancer had already fired its own stinger.

Qrow fired his shotgun again, shifting himself out of the way and letting the stinger impale the closer Grimm through its hide. Then, he snatched onto the stinger as it recoiled back into the Lancer who fired it. He shifted into a bird to dodge its pincer swipe and flew right above the beast’s head. He transformed back to human and his scythe fell like a vengeful reaper.

He landed on his knees, his body heaving for breath. He planted his scythe in the ground and leveraged it to struggle to his feet.

Weiss took her moment.

A line of black speed glyphs shot out past the battered huntsman. Combined with the built up from her time dilation, the Alter shot towards Qrow with the speed of a low-level Servant. She spawned a ghostly black sword in her left hand and slashed.

Qrow’s scythe arm cluttered to the ground in a spray of blood.

Weiss halted right before him and pirouetted, driving Myrtenaster straight through the huntsman’s chest.

Qrow gasped and his body crumpled to the grass. He struggled for a moment, but as his blood tainted the green beneath him, he sighed and leaned back.

“Huh, well isn’t this… peachy. Always thought it’d be the Ice Queen that got me, not the princess.”

“Shut up and die,” Weiss hissed, her sword not lowering from the man’s chin. “What you’ve done to Ruby and Yang, twisted them into Ozpin’s little soldiers, I won’t forgive you for that.”

“Twisted…” Qrow coughed, spots of blood flying from his mouth. “She really has got you brainwashed. I never did… anything but prepare them for what they wanted to do… ever since I saw Yang in Raven’s arms and Ruby… in Summer’s… walking out of that forest… saying she was her and Tai’s daughter. Always tried to help them…”

“Help them do what?” Weiss snarled. “To throw away their lives?”

“To do what they wanted to do… Save the world.” Qrow chuckled a bit before his cough returned and a line of blood trickled from his mouth. “Bad luck, I guess… I won’t get to see them finish.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Weiss raised her sword. “I’ll take care of Ozpin next and when he’s gone, I’ll have erased your lies entirely. I’ll save Ruby and Yang.”

“Ha! More likely, they’ll save you, princess,” Qrow grinned. “Or who knows, I wouldn’t put it past that sister of yours. A pity… we never got to…”

His mutterings died with him.

Weiss growled at the corpse. She flicked her blade across his throat, just in case he was trying to fool her by playing possum. But a slashed carotid artery was quite difficult to suffer without some reaction. Her prey was well and truly gone.

Only then did Weiss allow a satisfied smirk to rise to her lips. The greatest influence of Ruby and Yang, the fool who’d blinded them into believing in the _goodness_ of huntsmen and heroes, was beaten. With the White Fang defeated already, freeing Blake, there was only one more wretch to be eliminated before she could make her overtures to her friends to be one with All the World’s Evils. One that the Queen was very eager to have brought to her so she could deal with them personally.

Weiss spun around and headed back into the school, explosions sounding all around her as Lancer and Caster continued their duel in the courtyard and Vernal and Ilia retreated from the charge of her pet.

None of that mattered. It was time to find Ozpin.

 

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“What have you done?” Yang growled, Ember Celica cocking for a fight.

Raven’s astonishment narrowed into annoyance. “I asked you first.”

“You don’t get to pull that crap. That’s a mom’s comeback and you sure as hell ain’t mine!”

“You’re not supposed to be here!” Raven roared. “You and Rider were supposed to be out of the city, far away from this chaos!”

“And you’re supposed to be up there like you said you’d be!” Yang shouted back. “You could have helped them steamroll Salem’s masters and instead you’re down here trying to steal the relic.”

“I need it,” Raven declared. She gestured to the ornate golden lantern floating a foot or two of the ground within the desert of the vault. “If it’s lit with any normal fire, the knowledge will be random, stuffing the user’s head will a menagerie of useless facts, but with the maiden’s power I can make it show me what I want to know. Like all the weaknesses of the other Servants.”

“So you can win the war,” Yang spat.

“So I can save Summer.”

“You don’t get to say her name!” Yang yelled. “You don’t get to use her as an excuse for leaving us all to die! I love my mom, but you’re going to let Salem live to bring her back. She’ll destroy the world, which if you hadn’t noticed, Summer would be a part of!”

Raven’s fists tightened. “There is already a plan in motion to deal with Salem.”

“What? That weapon you stole from Gilgamesh? Great job there, pissing off the most powerful being on the planet, grade A strategy.”

“If it had gone wrong, he would have only killed me and Summer. And as you said, Salem is going to destroy the entire world,” Raven reminded her. “It was an acceptable risk versus reward.”

“And just where is this miracle?” Yang demanded. “You’ve had how many years to use it? Why is Salem still alive?”

“There were complications. But Summer came up with a plan to bypass them. A plan that is perfectly on course as far as I’ve seen.”

“And I don’t suppose you’d like to fill me in on that plan?”

Raven looked away. “It’s best to keep the circle small. Besides, I think the truth would hurt you most of all.”

“Don’t try to make this about me.”

“It has always been about you, Yang,” Raven proclaimed, her crimson eyes hard, but strangely not unkind. “Everything I did, everything I have done, I have done so that you could live the life you deserved.”

“Oh, come on,” Yang spat. “Give me a break. You don’t expect me to actually believe that. You abandoned me!”

“I decided to track down Gilgamesh because I knew Ozpin could not defeat Salem. And in his pathetic stalling action, he would recruit you, the daughter of two of his greatest huntsmen, to be his pawn. His _sacrifice_.” Raven snarled. “The strong live and the weak die, but no matter how strong you became, Salem would always hang over you like a guillotine waiting to drop. So yes, I pissed off the most powerful being on the planet to save you, and when it went sideways, I abandoned you to make sure you and your father would be safe from Gilgamesh.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yang shot back. “Summer helped you, and she stayed.”

“She didn’t want to abandon you or Ruby,” Raven explained. “And the only reason that didn’t blow up in her face was because she figured out that Gilgamesh had gotten close to her and purposefully took a mission to lead him away. She knew her days were numbered the moment she turned down to go into hiding with me.”

Yang’s fists clenched under her gauntlets. As much as she wanted to spit back at Raven with all the venom she could muster, what she’d described did sound like something Summer would do. She really only cared about other people, whether as super mom or as a huntress. It was something that she’d always admired, telling Ruby stories about it all the time. But, could she really have taken it to such an extent? To have sacrificed herself just to take care of them?

Yes. Yes, she could have. Because she would never have even for a moment, let them think they didn’t matter to her.

“All this, everything you’re saying, right now, you should have told us this years ago.”

“I just said—”

“Like you didn’t meet up with Qrow anyway,” Yang pointed out. “He found you. He wanted your help, and you told him _nothing_. Even if you wanted to keep this secret plan of yours hidden, you could have had him take a message, a birthday card, _something_ to let us know you gave half a rat’s ass about us.”

Tears, tears she didn’t understand or want, flooded down her eyes. Through the deluge, she glimpsed the same thing occurring on Raven’s face.

“But you didn’t.” She continued nonetheless. “Because you don’t. In the end, you’re a coward. Everything you do is because you’re guilty or afraid.”

“Yang, I—Move!”

Yang’s eyes widened. Raven dashed forward and shoved her to the side, a golden spear crashing into her side and tearing her scabbard from her belt. Another ornate sword shot out and obliterated the device, a small explosion and scattered metal fragments confirming its demise.

Both women whirled towards the entrance. Kirei, who Yang had sworn had been knocked out when she’d smashed into the floor, rose to his feet behind a swirling golden vortex, his broken right arm hanging limply at his side.

But as much as Yang may have hated the man, at the moment, he was unimportant. The master of the golden portal came marched through its gates, the ethereal doorway shutting instantly behind him.

From the moment he entered the vault, Gilgamesh’s crimson eyes locked onto Raven. His golden aura bore down on all present like a second wrathful sun, ready to incinerate all he judged lacking.

“Yang,” Raven whispered, dread laden in her voice. “Run.”

There was no speech. No grand declaration of the king’s justice. Not even a hateful snarl of ‘mongrel’. That would imply the King of Heroes was angry.

He had passed angry fifteen years ago. This was wrath, beyond gods and men, unrelenting and absolute.

The back wall ignited into a hundred portals, and a golden hell erupted in the Vault of the Spring Maiden.


	62. Best Laid Plans...

_Raven couldn’t hide her smirk when the knife rose to her throat._

_“Not bluffing with the Contender, I see.”_

_“Stand up.”_

_She did as she was ordered and rose from her table in an empty back room of a less than reputable bar. She turned around and came face to face with a pair of tear-filled silver eyes._

_“It’s good to see you.”_

_Summer scowled. “What the hell, Rae? It’s been over a year. No letters, no messages, no calls, we didn’t know what happened, where you were, or even if you were still alive… or… or…”_

_The knife withdrew quickly, and her leader rushed her into a hug. Raven gingerly returned. She had expected a bit more reaming out, but she supposed it was Summer after all._

_“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “There was something I needed to do, and it was safer that I did it alone.”_

_“What?” Summer demanded, pulling back and staring her straight in the eye. “What could you have possibly needed to do that meant you had to leave without a word? Qrow didn’t even know where you were.”_

_Raven’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t tell him about this, did you? Or Tai?”_

_“Your message said to come alone. Do you think I would risk my one chance to make sure you were alright by spooking you? Why did you call me anyway?”_

_“Because as much as I wish otherwise, I need your help,” Raven explained. “I’ve found a way, Summer. A way to destroy Salem.”_

_“What?” Summer screeched. “How? I thought Ozpin said—”_

_“Ozpin is a fool,” Raven hissed. “This way is dangerous, I’m not going to lie. Even if it works, there’s a good chance the both of us will die anyway.”_

_“And you want me watching your back,” Summer finished. She looked away, an unfamiliar guilty tinge in her silver eyes. “You… might not want that. I did something, Rae. Something I shouldn’t have.”_

_“Oh, come on. You’re Summer Rose. What could you have possibly—”_

_“I slept with Tai.”_

_…_

_“Like, slept side by side with or—”_

_“The ‘slept with’ slept with.”_

_“Oh.”_

_A cornucopia of emotions rushed through Raven, some furious, others depressed. Of course, thanks to Lancelot’s madness echoing through her mind and the necessity of remaining in control of that, reason eventually won out._

_“It was a month ago. I was depressed about you leaving, he was depressed about you leaving, and then we were depressed together, and things just happened—”_

_“It’s fine.”_

_“I know you can’t forgive me and—”_

_“Summer!” Raven shouted, gripping the cloaked woman hard. “It’s fine.”_

_Her partner blinked madly at her. “Fine? I slept with your husband. I’m a terrible friend.”_

_“My husband that I left without a word,” Raven pointed out, though she had always meant to return eventually. “My husband that for the last year and a half, has had no idea where on Remnant I was or even if I was still alive. I don’t have the right to get mad at either of you for coping. Besides…”_

_She slipped a mischievous smirk onto her face. “At least I know he still has good taste.”_

_A blush redder than Raven’s eyes rose to Summer’s face. The ace huntress pulled in her white hood and bashfully turned away like a tongue-tied schoolgirl. “I hate you.”_

_Raven chuckled. Gods, she’d missed this. This light and easy exchange over even the harshest of matters. The only things that would make it better were if Tai, Qrow, and Yang were there._

_Speaking off…_

_“How’s Yang?”_

_Immediately, Summer went from a shrinking violet to a blooming sunflower. “Oh, she’s just the cutest little thing that ever… ooooo! She took her first steps last week, and I took so many pictures and she smiled like…ooooooo! I think I have them on my scroll.”_

_Summer pulled out the device displayed the pictures she’d taken. Yang crawling. Yang playing with a fluffy dog toy. Yang throwing baby food in Qrow’s face. And yes, even Yang taking her first steps on two feet._

_Raven’s heart broke even as it melted. Her daughter, **her** daughter, was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. So innocent, so pure. And she’d missed so much of her already. She should have been there, been the one taking these pictures._

_But she hadn’t._

_And there was a reason for that._

_If she had been there, then it would have only been a matter of time until that innocence perished, murdered by Salem and Ozpin’s endless war. She had to end it, so the light in Yang’s eyes would never die._

_Her gaze shifted to Summer, who was endlessly cooing at the photos and mentioning little unseen details, like how Tai had done the woof noises for the stuffed dog himself._

_Summer, who’d been through so much, who lost everything so young, and yet came out so strong, unyielding in the face of darkness. Determined to save everyone and yet still capable of so much joy._

_However dangerous he had truly been, Kiritsugu Emiya had certainly a been a wonderful parent. She only hoped she’d be able to equal his success._

_Someday._

****

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Ow.

Kiritsugu hadn’t felt pain, physical pain at least, in a very long time. Time Alter was useful in that regard. No enemy had managed to land a substantial blow on him since he became a Servant.

How fitting that Shirou would be the first one to do so.

A sense of pride briefly welled up inside the Assassin before he ruthlessly squashed it down. While Shirou’s skills were commendable, what had led him to develop them had been a tragedy. Taking up Kiritsugu’s own flawed ideals and seeing them through to the end. The end of heroism.

His son was broken, just like he was.

He broke him.

His self-loathing was cut short by Kirei’s Command Seal, flaring through his body, demanding he do everything in his power to kill his son. His soul blazed, desperately spiting in the order’s face, clawing to slip up, to make sure Shirou had an opening to destroy him before he slew him in turn.

But he was no more able to resist the command than he had the order to spare Kirei himself. He attacked Archer with all his might, all his skill. And when his son deployed his counters, he overcame them in turn, waiting for the opportunity to put an Origin Round through him or one of his weapons. And when Shirou had finally used that crimson spear to land a solid strike, he dissipated into spirit form the moment he was buried under the rubble, allowing his Presence Concealment to shield his survival.

Granted, he didn’t have a clue how he’d survived. That spear had done something to reality, warped space to undo his dodging of its attack. He’d barely been able to keep it from shearing his heart in two and despite that, the force of the attack had staggered him. Even in spirit form, it took him several moments to recover himself, his average Endurance Rank barely keeping him from passing out.

By the time he recollected himself, Archer was a mile away, rushing towards a massive building in the center of the city, explosions sounding all around it.

Haven Academy. Where Kirei was.

How Archer somehow figured out the priest’s location and decided to bring their duel closer to take control? No, he wouldn’t have had the time to learn where Kirei was during their battle. So why was he going there in such a hurry? The King of Heroes should have begun his assault back at Summer’s daughter by now.

Whatever the case, it didn’t matter. Kirei’s Command Seal compelled him, and he gave chase. By the end of the day, one of them would be dead.

 

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****

Generally, Arturia felt Salem had lived up to her end of their bargain. She’d promised her the power to fight Gilgamesh and protect her family and her strength had indeed allowed her to save her children and Nicholas from the King of Heroes’ advance. Indeed, despite having to battle Jaune and Mordred, she’d found her time under the Queen to be a rather straightforward affair.

Her Blackening had unleashed her full potential. The might of her draconic magic core, multiple times more powerful than even the strongest of mages’ magic circuits, was at last unrestrained from her own limits, imparting each of her strikes with dark _prana_ that sundered the very earth it tread upon. At last, she was a true Pendragon, scion of the mighty Red Dragon.

Which would have much more helpful if she wasn’t facing one of the few warriors she considered her superior while he was wielding a _dragon-slaying sword_!

She grunted as another wild slash from Arondight sent her reeling, her very essence screaming in agony at the sight of the black blade. Excalibur Morgan scrambled to parry, her immense strength somehow still buckling under Lancelot’s relentless assault.

The Knight of the Lake was always the finest of the Round Table’s warriors, with abilities perfectly suited to destroying her. She’d only emerged victorious during their duel in the Fourth Holy Grail War because his master had run out of magical energy, a fact Salem had been eager to share to keep her from underestimating her opponent. His skill and abilities outpaced even her own wondrous power. His apparent virtue had led to him rising to be her most trusted knight, even being entrusted with the paramount secret of her gender, which to his credit he had kept even when he could have used it to cripple her during their wars.

But that did not change what he’d done.

She was not blinded by pathetic self-loathing anymore. She saw his actions for what they were. Whatever they had thought they were doing, if they’d thought at all, he and Guinevere had chosen to do what they’d done. She could not fault them for falling in love, no one could control that, but they’d known their duty. They knew the possible consequences of their affair and they’d done it anyway, leaving Mordred with a perfect opening to splinter the Round Table and annihilate the kingdom. And even if that was a mistake, he should have remained in Camelot and suffered the consequences instead of escalating the conflict.

Now, she would pass judgment on him for his sins.

Excalibur Morgan flared with black power, the air fleeing in rightful terror of the titanic sword of sin.

Then Arondight struck again, and Saber Alter was driven back even farther.

She really hated that sword.

Lancelot caught her in another bladelock, their black, hellish weapons spraying storms of sparks all around, his wild dark hair whipping through the air. Arturia flared her Prana Burst again and again, desperate to even the playing field.

“Do you truly hate me that much?” she growled. “Why? I did nothing wrong. You conspired with Guinevere. You shattered the Round Table. You handed Mordred the perfect spark to light the fire of Camelot’s destruction. And what did you do? You ran! You ran from your sins and left me to deal with your mess. No more! Now, I cast judgment upon you, _old friend_. I find you wanting.”

In the vile shade of their swords she might have imagined it, but for a moment she could have sworn she saw the bastard smile. Not the mad grin of his insanity, but the old jovial smirk from when they’d just finished a spar, the both of them gleaming with sweat and hungry for a feast.

It made her sick.

Excalibur Morgan ignited, the dark flames of the black dragon erupting from its sinful steel.

Lancelot pressed forward, Arondight cutting through the draconic aura like a hot knife through butter, his enhanced strength pressing down on the Dark Tyrant’s previously unstoppable legs, forcing her blade on the horizontal axis. Even through his madness, the Knight of the Lake knew that he needed to keep the greatest of holy swords positioned so that the King of Knights would hurt herself as well if she released its full power.

Arturia snarled. She was at too much of a disadvantage, in skill, in legend, and in Noble Phantasm. Against her, Lancelot’s perfectly trained body was even more effective, knowing every slash, parry, and riposte she’d ever conceived inside and out. Her only possible advantage was brute force from her boundless _prana_ and even that seemed insufficient against her old friend’s natural edges.

She needed an opening, a distraction. Something to provide a weakness in the man who had none, to let her get in one swift strike.

But it wouldn’t come.

“Heads up!”

…

She was known to be mistaken from time to time.

Lancelot shoved Arturia back, his natural instincts alerting him to the threat behind him. He whirled around like the plume of his old smog, Arondight rising to meet the thrust of a familiar spiked crimson spear.

Lancer Alter grinned like a maniac. A sonic boom echoed out from the clash of the two cursed weapons, flattening the few houses that hadn’t already been demolished in the duel of Servants.

Saber Alter took her opening. Lancelot was strong, but Cu Chulainn was a top tier Servant in his own right, and didn’t have an ounce of dragon blood in his veins. Gae Bolg pinned Arondight to the dirt. And at that moment Excalibur struck.

Arturia thrust forward into her old friend’s back, his black armor crumpling like tissue paper against her corrupted sword. His howl of madness briefly morphed into a cry of agony.

Suddenly, he was enveloped by a shining sphere of light. When it faded, the Knight of the Lake was gone.

Saber Alter’s ends narrowed. “A Command Seal.”

“Looks like his master needed him almost as much as you needed me,” Lancer joked, a teasing smirk on his lips.

Arturia sighed. She did not like his prodding about the matter, but he was not wrong. His interference probably saved her life. And while a part of her still wanted to protest his disruption of a one on one duel, that part was quickly squashed by her practicality. “Thank you for assistance, Lancer.”

“No problem. Though I’m a bit confused,” he confessed. “The Queen said you were fighting the King of Heroes. Granted I’ve never met the guy, but your memories of him showed him with gold armor.”

“We were interrupted,” Arturia informed him. “We have to get back. It won’t take Gilgamesh long to overwhelm those I left behind.”

“Yeah, about that…”

A bloodcurdling roar, even deeper and more horrifying than Lancelot’s, boomed throughout the sky. A titanic mass of brown muscle smashed into the ground beside the two Alters, a huge crater erupting around him and an enormous stone sword swinging deftly from his grip.

Lancer Alter sheepishly shrugged. “I may have picked up another demigod.”

Arturia glared at him. “We do not have time for this. My family is in danger!”

“Don’t worry. That silver-eyed girl is there, isn’t she? She can hold him off, probably,” Lancer attempted to reassure her. He grinned and aimed his spear at their new foe. “Besides, with the two of us here, this will be a piece of cake. I mean, he’s Hercules, so it’ll still be an incredible fight, but I’m sure we can win. After a grueling, breakneck, unyielding, preferably hours long struggle of…”

The Berserker before them, Hercules evidently, disappeared in the same sphere of light Lancelot had.

Lancer’s face plummeted. “Oh, come on!”

Arturia took off immediately, her pace not as swift as her former speed but still gliding through the streets.

The Queen’s memories informed her of Lancelot’s allegiance to Raven Branwen. If she was the Master of Hercules as well, and she had felt the need to call both her mighty Berserkers to her side, The Dark tainted Tyrant could think of only one foe who could pose such a threat.

And if he reclaimed what was taken from him, they would all be annihilated.

****

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****

He was here.

He’d found her.

He’d found Yang.

Oh god.

_Oh god._

Raven’s Command Seal evaporated in a flash of crimson, Lancelot appearing before her just as the golden tempest struck. A maelstrom surged out and sent both her and Yang flying back, their bodies smacking into the gate to the Vault of the Spring Maiden, only their auras keeping their heads from splattering like melons.

Instantly, her mind went into survival mode. Her sword and scabbard were gone which meant she couldn’t portal her way out. She could still use her semblance without it, but without a dust blade to focus through it would take far more time than Gilgamesh was likely to give her to make one big enough for her entire body. If she transformed and tried to fly away, he’d snipe her out of the sky or threaten Yang to get her to stay. Not to mention, she’d opened the Vault, which meant if she fled, the Relic of Knowledge would his for the taking. And if he figured out how to use it, all her and Summer’s work at hiding his sword would have been pointless. No, escape wasn’t an option, she couldn’t run this time.

Which meant she had to fight the most powerful being on the planet.

Lovely.

“Be careful, my king,” the man Yang had fought, Kirei Kotomine, called out through the smog. “We cannot interrogate her if she’s dead.”

A snarl echoed through the cavern and the wall of shimmering portals decreased to a quarter. Still terrifying, but no longer invincible.

Good. This was good. Lancelot had dealt with mild barrages from the Gate of Babylon before. Hercules was nearly invincible. It was a certainty that Gilgamesh possessed a trove of Rank A Noble Phantasms, but if he didn’t know he needed to use them to break through Godhand, he wouldn’t sully his treasury by wasting them, especially not on _her_ Servants. If Lancelot could deal with any errant shots and Hercules could close the short distance of the Vault bridge, they could win. It wasn’t hopeless!

Then the smoke cleared. The bridge was gone, obliterated in the bombardment.

Lancelot stood at the edge, a dozen golden weapons speared through every inch of his body and a bloody crater in his back, the opposite wall visible through his chest.

The black knight hobbled around until he faced her. Raven gasped.

His dark eyes, still gaunt and haunted were not alight with the flames of madness. Instead, the gentle nobility she’d glimpsed in Achilles’ time stop a lifetime ago shined through.

He could not speak, not without lungs, but he flashed her a soft smile that she could easily tell was his attempt at an apology. For what, she didn’t know. Maybe going off like he had in Lionheart’s office, for her decades of sleepless nights, for dying, or hell maybe all three. In his mind, he’d failed to fulfill his oath to stand by her side.

Raven willed her maiden powers to life and used a tornado to wrench one of Gilgamesh’s swords from her Servant’s side. Acting on reflex even in his dying moments, Lancelot’s arm snaked out and caught it.

His eyes widened at the blade. He whipped his head to her, his mouth agape.

She smiled as best she could, given the situation, and granted him a grateful nod. For all the pain she’d suffered because of his madness, he had stood by her. He had kept his oath. Black or not, he had been her knight. And a knight did not die with empty hands.

Tears welled in Lancelot’s eyes and his mouth struggled into a thin smile. His body fell back and plummeted into the chasm, dissipating into blue sparks along the way.

For the first time in twenty years, the howling quieted in Raven’s mind. Not merely suppressed by Hercules, but truly and utterly quiet. Silent. And yet, she felt emptier than she ever had before.

“Kirei, ensure Rider’s master does not interfere,” Gilgamesh commanded, his golden armor glittering as always. “I shall handle the _thief_ personally.”

Kirei nodded and took a running leap at the broken bridge. Raven threw her hands forward, unleashing a typhoon of flames at the leaping warrior.

Unfortunately, a golden portal emerged right in front of him in space and he leapt through it to escape the fire. An identical gateway emerged in front of Yang on their side of the chasm. Kirei launched out of the rift, a flying kick going straight for the blond huntress. Yang countered as best she could, but her movements were tired and sluggish. Even with a broken arm, her foe forced her back, their duel flowing into the endless desert of the Relic Vault.

Raven’s fists clenched. She didn’t have time to mourn her Servant. Her daughter was in danger. She needed to deal with Gilgamesh now.

She raised her arm just as another volley of golden weapons came hurtling towards her.

“By my Command Seal, come to my side, Berserker!”

Her second seal flashed crimson and an orb of light erupted before her. Her titanic Berserker slashed his massive stone sword and scattered the oncoming barrage. He stomped his feet into their meager ledge, standing stalwart as an immovable guardian between her and Gilgamesh.

The King of Heroes scowled. “So, you’ve acquired another mad dog, have you,  _thief_? No matter.” He snapped his fingers.

All around Hercules, a sphere of portals manifested barely three feet from him. Each one shot out a succession of golden weapons, brilliant and wonderous, yet used as mere ammunition to fell the giant before them. Fortunately, they bounced off his skin like stones against iron.

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow.

Raven seized upon his confusion and slammed her hands into the ground, her eyes blazing scarlet with the Spring Maiden’s power. Twin waves of thick glacial ice erupted from the stone, covering the previously open chasm with a wide floor. If Berserker had been forced to leap at Gilgamesh, he would have been easy pickings in the air. Even if the bridge had survived the golden king’s first assault, the thin strip of land would have made Hercules a fish in a barrel.

Now though? Now the Servant of Madness had room to maneuver. And with his speed and skill, and Gilgamesh unaware of his defenses, there just might be a chance for them to win this battle.

Her hope lasted until the portals surrounding Hercules shut out of existence, only to be reopened again moments later, even more majestic arms in their holds.

They all fired at once. Berserker moved faster than her eyes could track, sliding under the gates around him. Even still, a long shining lance slammed into his shoulder, puncturing through his steel like flesh like a harpoon through an Ursa. The great hero grunted when he returned to his feet, turning his glowing red eye on the King of Heroes, a low growl on his lips.

Raven’s eyes widened. How had he known? She hadn’t said anything that could possibly have given away his identity. How had he known about Godhand?

“Hercules,” Gilgamesh called. “In life, you completed twelve labors of incomparable difficulty and in the end were welcomed by the gods. I admit, perhaps at your full strength you would have something approaching a chance in this battle. But reduced as you are, and with a master so unworthy of your service, you will not last. Stand aside, or I shall show you the price of siding with scum.”

Raven cringed. She could feel that Berserker didn’t have all his lives, at least three or four shy of his full twelve. Even if he did have the full compliment however, she was under no illusions about their chances now that the secret of Godhand was out. They were doomed.

He would kill Hercules and then he would unleash horrors upon her the likes of which hell could only dream of. She would scream until her lungs burned from the barest touch of air, blades piercing every inch of her flesh that wasn’t needed to keep her alive. He would question her, over and over, demand to know where his sword was.

She would hold out as long as she could, but she didn’t know how long that would be. But no matter how long she did, it wouldn’t be enough. Everything couldn’t possibly come to fruition so soon.

Summer’s plan would fail. Her death would be in vain.

A wail of fury roused her from her self-loathing. Raven whirled around to the expense of the Relic, Yang’s hair ignited in brilliant golden flames as she charged at Kirei, who arm bleed more every moment.

Yang.

Yang was her chance. Yang was still fighting. If she killed Kirei, Gilgamesh would be deprived of a master. He had a physical body, so the effects wouldn’t be as debilitating as they would be on a normal Heroic Spirit, but they would still reduce the amount he could open the Gate of Babylon. Who knew how much, but with Hercules’ skill and power, it might be enough to get close. And if they could get close, her Servant could end this. She just needed to survive.

Despite her desperation, a daring smirk somehow graced Raven’s mouth for a brief moment. She’d always had a knack for survival.

“Have at it, King of Heroes.”

Hercules roared, his howl louder than an entire horde of Grimm. He charged across the field of ice, barreling for the golden king.

Gilgamesh smirked, a hint of black amusement dipping into his furious crimson gaze. “So be it, mongrel. I shall give you the greatest of labors.”

From all around, scores of golden portals illuminated the cavern. At the command of their sovereign, they unleashed their murderous bounty upon his enemies.

 

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Kirei generally did not consider himself a prideful man, but even he could admit his faults when he made them, rare as that was.

He had allowed his excitement at Yang’s evolution to bleed into recklessness during their previous fight and that had cost him. He had never expected her to wield enough power to overwhelm his Eight Postures of the Buddha Guards. Truly, she had streamlined her technique to take advantage of her semblance’s greatest strengths. If she had not taken him for dead and been distracted by her mother, she likely could have killed him.

Fortunately, she had, and that had given him enough time to recollect himself and summon Gilgamesh as he should have when he’d first spotted Raven.

Now, the King of Heroes was handling the bandit leader, and with only a brief pause to inform his friend of his enemy’s new Servant and identity, he was left to pick up where he left off with Ms. Xiao-Long.

Her last attack had utterly shattered the bones of his right arm, leaving it a bloody pulp hanging limply at his side. The rest of his body ached as well, his aura having absorbed most of the shock from his impact with the pit floor, but not completely negating it. He was hardly in the best shape, and if he had been as such during the Vytal Festival, the Yang from then might have even beaten him. Honestly, if Gilgamesh hadn’t implied he wanted her alive, his best option would have just been to have drawn the Contender and finished her.

But the Yang before him was not the Yang from then. More skilled and tactical she may have been, their last bout had extracted a steep toll from her as well. No normal human body was capable of channeling Servant level abilities without some consequence. The young huntress’ previous nimble and fierce strikes from the pit had been replaced with sluggish dodges and simple jabs, her muscles likely burning with even those.

That was where she and Kirei differed. While she had no doubt worked herself to the bone for the sake of the profession she’d chosen, he had gone through executer training before he could properly be called a man. He had been on missions against ungodly heathens and their most twisted of demonic horrors. No matter the danger, no matter the injury, he would never allow himself to stop. He would die if Yang scored a true killing blow, but until then he would fight just as well as he did at their clash’s beginning.

Where she wavered, he stayed the course. And so slowly but surely, he pushed her deeper into the strange desert world they’d found themselves in, a Reality Marble enclosed in the Vault of the Spring Maiden. How strange that the only two such inner worlds he knew of were both boundless desert plains.

Ember Celica fired precisely and brutally, but with Yang’s arms rising so slowly, he was able to dodge without too much difficulty. He dove under the barrage and lashed out with a ruthless kick.

Yang went flying. She tumbled across the sand, only stopping when she slammed into a short stump of rock.

A strange object floated above the stone, an elegant golden lantern with a light blue housing. Kirei assumed it was the Relic of Knowledge that Kiritsugu had reported from their enemies’ meeting. He’d have taken it for a mere trinket, if he couldn’t sense the underlying magic power simmering within it, like a match just waiting to be struck.

The spark was soon provided.

Yang stumbled back to her feet, her prized hair tossed every which way. A few loose strands of the dirtied mane even dipped into the lantern’s edge. The young huntress didn’t seem to notice, her violet eyes locked on Kirei as she panted hard. She clenched her fists and roared, her pupils shifting to a violent crimson as her semblance activated.

And as a consequence, her hair lit on fire.

Kirei had never completely understood why Yang’s mane ignited when she triggered her abilities. His own semblance informed him it was her body burning off the excess power in any way it could so as to not let it pressure her muscles more than she could handle, but he didn’t entirely comprehend why that led to flames.

Nevertheless, it did, and when the raging inferno licked the Relic of Knowledge, the lantern lit with a brilliant shine.

A beam of pure white light burst out of the lantern. Kirei turned away and shielded his eyes. He heard Yang scream as the pillar passed right through her head.

When the glow faded and Kirei whirled back, Yang was laid out on the ground, her body convulsing madly on the ground, her eyes completely whited out with an ethereal shine.

The priest scowled. The battle had been going his way, but it was far from decided. He wanted to finish the duel, find out if Yang’s newfound spirit could match his own. Instead, just like his duel with Kiritsugu, an outside force had ended the fight on its own will and left him with nothing but dissatisfaction. It was infuriating.

Still, Yang wasn’t dead. Perhaps she could challenge him and again, if she survived the Relic’s effects.

Whatever those were.

 

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_!$%$ &&(*#$%!^%**)()%$%@!_

_#%@% &()^&*^&#%^$#(*(&*^&%W$%_

_!@#%$^* &(*)(*&^%^^&*&^%$#%^&*()*&^%^_

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Too much! It was too much!_

_Images, words, ideas, facts, eternal truths of the universe, every universe, the very multiverse! Realities she had never known and yet had lived in since before her birth! It was all flooding her mind! Melting her brain like molten magma!_

_She couldn’t handle it! It was too much! She needed to focus! She was stronger than this. She was a huntr—_

_What was she? What did she want to be?_

_A warrior. She wanted to be a warrior of some kind—AAAAHHHHH!!!_

_‘I’m the Avatar! And you gotta deal with it!’_

_‘In Gravity Falls, there’s no one you can trust.’_

_‘We are the Crystal Gems!’_

_AAAHHHH! No! No, that wasn’t it! These worlds, they weren’t hers! AARRRRGGGGGHHHH!_

_‘Kaio-ken!’_

_Kaio- what?_

_‘I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!’_

_‘Believe it!’_

_‘This is the story of how I became the world’s greatest hero.’_

_Images, scenes, people, that she might have known, might have never known. A boy in a straw hat. A blond in an orange jumpsuit. A green haired runt crying out to world his ambition to become a hero and save people._

_Save people… hero…_

_She knew that. There was someone… not her, but someone she knew… someone she… cared for?_

_A small girl in a red hood, her eyes glued towards the mesmerizing horizon._

_Ruby._

_Her sister._

_She loved her sister._

_A girl with long dark hair, confident and relentless, a large black bow placed squarely on her head._

_Blake._

_Her partner._

_Her father. Her uncle. Her team. Her friends._

_A laughing fool, grinning madly at an endless expanse._

_‘Glory lies beyond the horizon. Challenge it because it is unreachable. Speak of conquest and demonstrate it.’_

_The information… the knowledge flowing through her mind, it was too much. It was going to incinerate her. It was impossible to survive._

_So she would._

_She would, because she would not be conquered._

_‘Yang Xiao-Long fought and survived against impossible odds. Yang Xiao-Long summoned me forth to this battle. And it is by the side of Yang Xiao-Long, that I shall claim the Holy Grail.’_

_She was Yang Xiao-Long. She was a huntress. And she would not die to clots of information!_

_She needed to focus, to funnel the excess away. She needed a focal point. What did she need to do, right now?_

_There was a battle. A battle that she needed to fight._

_A golden man._

_The man who killed her mother._

_The man who came for… her other mother?_

_They took a weapon. A powerful weapon._

_What weapon? How?_

_The world flashed white._

_Yang whirled around, somehow floating through the air of a dense emerald forest. She glanced down at her hands, her eyes widening at the sight of her arms, translucence and weightless._

_“Rae, are you sure about this?”_

_Yang’s heart, if it still existed in her current state, stopped cold. She knew that voice. Not from whatever the Relic had done her, but from her life, from her earliest memories. A voice that had brought comfort, joy, and cookies whenever she heard it. Only to one day never be heard again._

_She turned to the source of the voice and her vision blurred with tears at the sight of Summer Rose, exactly as she remembered her. She wanted to run to her, to throw herself into her arms and break down crying, wailing how she just knew it had to be a nightmare, that she couldn’t possibly have been dead._

_But she couldn’t move. She could twist and turn all she liked, but her body was intangible. She couldn’t get the traction to walk without being able to touch the ground._

_She was an observer. This was a memory of the past, recorded by the Relic of Knowledge and shared with her by its light. Hell, based on what Ozpin had said, it was a miracle she even had this. Without someone who knew how to control it, the lantern was just as likely to fry her brain._

_She saw Raven, a younger Raven, with fewer wrinkles yet somehow even more bags under her eyes, her gaze locked on a small wooding church on a hill about half a mile away. Lancelot twitched his mad self away in the shade of the trees, an insane howl simmering under his helmet. Honestly, it was quite disturbing to see him when she’d just watched him die._

_“I told you, Summer, I’ve done the research,” the bandit informed her white cloaked friend. “If we stick to the plan, everything will be fine.”_

_“You said that six months ago,” Summer countered. “And then it took us this long to find him.”_

_“My intel was off. I’m sorry about that. But I know he’s here. I can feel it.”_

_“You ‘felt’ it the last three times too.”_

_“It’s the only way,” Raven insisted. “If we don’t do this, eventually, Salem will kill us all.”_

_“You don’t know that.” Summer put her hand on Raven’s shoulder. The bandit flinched, but she noticeably didn’t pull away from her leader’s touch. “Raven, let’s stop this. Come back. We can be a family, all of us. You, Tai, me, Qrow, and Yang. Yang, Rae. She deserves her mother.”_

_“You’re my mother,” Yang whispered. Her eyes narrowed at Raven. This was where she’d see the truth. The truth that Raven’s lies in the Vault had been just that, trying to get her to stand down and—_

_“She deserves everything.”_

_…_

_What?_

_“She deserves everything,” Raven repeated. “She deserves everything in this world. A long, happy life with everyone and everything she could ever love. And more than anything, I want her to have that. But people rarely get what they deserve. As long as Salem lives, the best she can hope for is being Ozpin’s sacrifice. With the Grail gone, this is the only way to kill her. To make the best future possible for Yang.”_

_Summer smiled sadly. “Even if you’re right, even if everything goes according to plan, Gilgamesh will come after us after its done. Even with Ea, there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to stop him.”_

_Raven shrugged. “I grew up in a world of kill or be killed. If I die giving my daughter a world she can live a full life in, then so be it. The strong live and the weak die. It’s the way of the world. If I can change that… then it will have been a life worth living.”_

_Her crimson eyes stared into Summer’s silver, the two of them seeming to communicate without words, their history doing the talking for them._

_“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” Raven suddenly stuttered. “I’m just putting you in danger, I can handle this—”_

_“Nope,” Summer interrupted, tapping the other woman on the nose with her finger, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “You wouldn’t have gotten off your high horse to call me at all if you didn’t need me for this. We’re partners, remember Rae? We’re in this together. Now, let’s go save the world.”_

_Raven smiled, a genuine smile. Her arm rose and wiped a tear from her eye. “Thank you, Summer.”_

_Yang had never seen this side of Raven. Not only was her professed motive of maternal affection apparently true, but here with Summer she was… gentle? It was an easy rapport, sisterly like she had with Ruby, Blake, and Weiss. To see it from the woman she’d seen in the present to be cold, conniving and merciless was… surprising._

_She… she didn’t know what to think of this._

_Raven and Summer shared a quick hug. Suddenly, a lecherous grin sprouted on the crimson-eyed woman’s lips._

_“You know, I’m going to have an awful lot to make up to Tai when we get back,” Raven noted._

_“Well, yeah, a bit I guess,” Summer admitted. “But Tai is Tai. I’m sure he’ll be alright with it once you explain.”_

_“Maybe, but he definitely deserves some extra compensation for his troubles. Something I think we both can help him with.”_

_“Rae, what are you—”_

_Summer’s eyes went wide. Her cheeks glowed a rosy blush. “Oh. You don’t really mean—”_

_“What? It’s not like you haven’t already had a turn with him. And we both know you’d go for another.”_

_“Rae!”_

_Yang smashed her eyes shut and plugged her ears with her fingers. She did not want to hear her moms talk about double teaming her dad like that. She prayed that they got to the deathmatch and fast before she ended up wishing for the information overload to come back._

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Raven growled as the world exploded all around her.

Gilgamesh’s bombardment had begun in earnest at Hercules’ charge, Rank A Noble Phantasms pelting the cavern like monstrous golden hail, the enormous stalactites plummeting down from the vault’s roof, their titanic weight plowing through the glacial floor. If the King of Heroes wasn’t holding back to keep from accidentally killing her, the entire cave likely would have collapsed already.

Raven counted her blessings and got to work renewing the floor of ice as fast as she could, no simple feat since each stray golden blade obliterated several square yards of the platform. But Berserker had lost two more lives already in the onslaught, if he lost any more maneuvering room he wouldn’t survive much longer. Fortunately, he’d made more progress through of the tempest of weaponry than Raven had even dared to hope for, nearly halfway across the distance between him and Gilgamesh. If the King of Heroes slipped up at all, the Servant of Madness would close the gap and smash him to pieces.

Of course, that was assuming Gilgamesh would slip up, which was far from likely. Taking care not to obliterate his only lead he may have been, the golden king was livid at her presence, nay her existence. His rage fueled his arsenal and added just a bit more bite, a little finer an aim, behind every shot from the Gate of Babylon. His defense, though seeming random, was calculated to impede Hercules as much as possible with the limited resources he could bring to bear, hamstringing even the mighty demigod without breaking a sweat. Honestly, it spoke more to the Berserker’s quality that he’d managed even a step.

Suddenly, Raven felt a distinct tingle on the back of her neck, a sixth sense honed over decades of combat. She whirled around, and her eyes went wide.

“Yang!”

Her daughter laid broken on the ground, her body spasming madly, a ghostly white glow shining from her eyes. Kirei Kotomine stood above her, the Relic of Knowledge in his good hand.

Raven thrust out her hand and unleashed a typhoon of fire. “Get away from her!”

The flames soared towards the priest, the bastard rolling out of the way just in time. He came up to a kneeling position, his twinkling malicious eyes smirking at her desperate defense.

Raven knew immediately why he smiled. Not only had her hopes for the priest’s duel gone completely sideways, but to drive him away from Yang, she’d taken her attention off of creating the ice floor. Berserker’s maneuvering room disappeared in a flash of gold. She moved quickly to restore their lost territory.

But apparently, Gilgamesh had lost patience.

A dozen new portals emerged right next to Berserker, surrounding his trapped body, nowhere to run. Thick, majestic chains shot out of each of the gateways.

Raven remembered them well. They’d bound Karna. And just like then, they annihilated her hope.

The Chains of Heaven, Enkidu, encircled Berserker in an instant, the mighty giant bound tight in their grip. They wrapped around his sword and snapped the stone behemoth in two like it was a mere twig. The demigod strained against the golden binds and howled with a fury that would sunder the heavens.

Unfortunately, it did not move his bonds.

Raven raised her right hand, her last Command Seal beginning to glow.

“Really, _thief_ , you should know better,” Gilgamesh snarled. “The Chains of Heaven are made to bind the very gods themselves. The greater the divinity, the tighter they hold. Do you really think that I would allow him to simply teleport away with a Command Seal? Your insolence would be amusing were you not so vile.”

She didn’t. She’d researched all she could about Gilgamesh, all the barest remains of the faintest legends, older than even Ozpin. She knew she could not escape Enkidu, not with who Hercules was.

She was trapped, a cornered rat with nowhere to scurry off to.

 _‘Berserker’_ she called out mentally. _‘I’m sorry. I brought you into a war that cannot be won.’_

_“Child.”_

What?

_“CHILD!”_

Raven startled at his shout, stumbling back a few steps.

Even if he could have clarified his rambling through the fog of his madness, the King of Heroes cut him off. An enormous jewel-encrusted harpoon erupted from the Gate of Babylon and impaled the demigod through his skull.

“There,” Gilgamesh proclaimed. “That should take care of a few lives.”

Raven thought at a mile a minute. What had Berserker meant? It must have been important if he’d fought through his insanity to tell her. What child? What had he meant? Yang?

Yang.

She didn’t know Hercules’ legend, but from the very beginning, she’d guessed he had been a father in life. Perhaps he’d lost his child or perhaps he merely had the fear, but he understood the blanket terror that ran through her.

Her daughter was in danger. Perhaps Gilgamesh would spare her for some reason, but that would just leave her at Salem’s mercy.

If she lost here, if she broke under the golden shadow, Yang would die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough. The Queen was in her endgame and even dragons would fall in her path.

She could not let that happen.

She _would_ not let that happen.

The strong lived and the weak died.

But a rat was never stronger than when it was cornered.

Smoke curled off Hercules’ body, his flesh rejecting the harpoon and stitching his face back together. A brown vibrancy returned to his bulging muscles, restrained by his bonds’ golden glow, but present nonetheless.

Raven raised her right hand.

“Really?” Gilgamesh snorted. “You’ll never learn.”

But she did. She’d listened well to what the tyrant had said. She could not _teleport_ Hercules out of his restraints. She could not run. She could not escape.

So she would fight.

Life returned to her Servant and Berserker roared, his howl quaking the world itself.

“By my Command Seal!” Raven screamed, her final mark disappearing in a flash of scarlet. “Hercules, break free and _kill_ him!”

Maybe it was impossible. Maybe it defied the nature of the universe and the laws of creation. But Berserker was the strongest Servant she’d ever seen. She had to believe he could do it.

And maybe that was what did it. Or maybe it was the boost of the Command Seal or something in the giant’s legend. But whatever it was, no matter why it had happened, the demigod flexed, channeling strength beyond even his nigh limitless power, for a moment surpassing even gods long past.

And the Chains of Heaven _shattered_.

“What!” Gilgamesh exclaimed, his crimson eyes wide with disbelief.

Berserker wasted no time once free, crossing the meager distance between the two heroes in the blink of an eye. The King of Heroes’ moment of bewilderment combined with the Command Seal augmenting his already lightning speed allowed him to outpace the armaments frantically thrown out as a counter. Hercules appeared right before the golden man and raised his titanic fist.

With all the strength that had obliterated mountains, he plowed a strike right into Gilgamesh’s chest, the Archer raising his arms to protect his head. It was not nearly enough.

For once, the King of the World gave ground. He shot back like a bullet, slamming into the rockface, rubble crumbling all around him. His golden armor, formerly as pristine as the most sparkling jewel, was marred by crippling indent of a giant’s knuckles.

Hercules roared and raced forward to continue his assault, and for once, Raven saw a way out of hell.

 

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_After all her suffering, Yang had thought she’d known hell._

_She was wrong._

_All around her, golden weapons rained down in a tempest of steel. Swords, axes, spears, each one fell like a meteor and obliterated the grass where it struck, eternally scarring the land. If she had actually been present, she would have been dead in an instant._

_Yet, in between the causal hail of shining death, flashes of color preserved, black, red, and white._

_No, not white. Silver._

_Dozens of Summers dashed between the hail of weaponry, their silver eyes unleashing burst after burst of magic, battering away a Noble Phantasm with each shot, their golden hulls stained white._

_Even still, the clones would have been squashed like an army of ants had it not been for the black knight that charged among them, grasping blade after blade, each new sword coated in a murky smog. All around him, a portal of red and black continuously appeared and disappeared, Raven blinking into existence only long enough to escape once more._

_What from was obvious at the base of the hill._

_“Did you mongrels not learn your lesson in our last encounter?” Gilgamesh laughed. His hair was down, and he was dressed in the same casual clothes he’d worn at the restaurant. He looked over the chaos before him as if he was watching a match at the Vytal Festival. “The Hero of Charity’s bargain has long expired. By coming before me now, you have sealed your fate. Do try to make the end entertaining, won’t you?”_

_The sparse golden portals surrounding the group doubled, the gateways pairing off to rotate their fire, one loading another weapon while the other unleashed their payload. It was a subtle change, but one that left its targets with even fewer escape routes. The King of Heroes’ opponents would be crushed in moments, even with Lancelot smashing the bombardment bit by bit. An errant shining ax clipped the black knight and staggered him back._

_But suddenly, the huntresses’ tactics shifted._

_Where once the Summers charged towards the far specter of Gilgamesh, now they darted for the far closer portals that fired upon them. This came with consequence, of course, more than half the clones were annihilated despite their silver eyes, but a sparse few were guarded by Lancelot well enough that they reach the firing gates._

_And then those Summers leapt forward, their eyes blazing to dislodge the weapon locked to fire, and maybe half a dozen huntresses dove through the portals._

_For a moment, the rain of fire stopped. Raven emerged from her riving crimson portal and did not disappear again, instead staring at the frozen golden gateways. Lancelot, for once, stood completely still, his clouded visor focused on the base of the hill._

_And Gilgamesh…_

_“You… dare…” his face was angled downward, his bangs covering his eyes. Even still, the golden locks could not hide the vicious, vengeful glow erupting from his crimson glare. “Mongrel, to enter my treasure house without invitation… When I’m done you will pray for hell!”_

_All at once, the cerulean sky was entirely eclipsed by a firmament of pulsing gold._

_Raven gulped. “Lancelot, by my Command Seal, go to the rendezvous point.”_

_The Knight of the Round Table was encased in an orb of light and evaporated away._

_A moment later, the world was swallowed by a maelstrom of light, wrathful and wonderous._

_Time seemed to slow around Yang, the swords of the Gate of Bablyon actually visible as they plummeted. The sheer volume of blades descending forced the young huntress to shudder in dread, even though she knew this event was long past and Raven had clearly survived it, though how she could not fathom._

_Fortunately, she did not have to. In the strange slow motion she was offered, she saw Raven’s odachi whip across the ground right below the bandit’s feet. She disappeared into the crimson vortex just as the bombardment from above obliterated the area, striking the world with such force that the ground compressed into glass._

_As soon as the hell was over, the world sped up again, though the ash from the assault was so thick Yang couldn’t see anything that wasn’t an inch from her face. No wonder Gilgamesh had thought Raven was killed. He didn’t know how her semblance worked and had only seen her use portals to move a few feet at a time. He had no idea she’d been able to beam herself straight to Lancelot. Heck, with the lightning speed the swords had fallen and the split second Raven had acted, it was unlikely he’d seen the portal at all._

_Eventually, the smog cleared. Gilgamesh raised his head, a deep scowl still inlaid on his face. He waved his hand and sealed the gateways above. He snapped his fingers and a cloud of golden dust whipped around him. When it faded, his hair was stuck up straight and he was clad in his armor._

_“The mad dog will fade without his master,” he growled. “So, all that remains is your sentence. Show yourself, trespasser!”_

_Another score of golden portals manifested a ways away from the king. Trinkets and treasures and weapons spilled out of the gateways in droves. The piles quickly climbed higher and higher and higher nearly touching the clouds by the time Summer finally appeared._

_All the Summers._

_Where half a dozen had entered the Gate of Babylon, nearly thirty white cloaked huntresses tumbled out of the portals, the downside of putting a person with a blade clone semblance in an armory. And each one had their silver eyes glowing bright._

_“Thus kindly I scatter!”_

_Altogether, streams of silver surged out of every pair of eyes pushing back even Gilgamesh’s brilliant golden aura. The King of Heroes raised his arms to shield himself from the initial onslaught, quickly summoning a huge tower shield from his vault to hold off the barrage._

_With a flick of his wrist, new portals opened behind each of the Summer’s and each one was shot in the back by a new treasure._

_And each one disappeared in a puff of smoke, a Noble Phantasm or a simple dagger cluttering to the ground._

_“What?” Gilgamesh exclaimed, his eyes wide as he scanned his surroundings. “You hide like a coward, thief? You truly are the lowest of scum. Very well, if you seek to go to ground, I shall give you no ground to go to--”_

_He paused in his speech, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. He instantly opened his palm and deposited a golden key from the depths of his vault._

_The world blurred around Yang, miles and miles streaking by her in seconds. When she finally stopped, she found herself at another forest clearing. Raven and Lancelot stood around another crimson vortex, a portal Summer quickly dashed out of, thrusting a sizable package into Lancelot’s arms. A black mist instantly surged around the cloth covered item._

_Raven grinned like a madwoman, a breathless laugh chortling out of her gullet. She doubled over in relief. “We did it. We did it! Haha, we did it! This is incredible, Summer. How’d you find it so quickly?”_

_“Are you kidding?” Summer gasped. “That place was the most organized anything I’ve ever seen and this thing was on a pedestal in the very center wrapped up in those chains he used on Karna. Since we got him to use the A Rank ammo, it would have been harder to miss the thing.”_

_Raven jubilantly wrapped her leader in a massive bear hug, a shining smile upon her face. Yang had never seen her birth mother so happy._

_“It doesn’t matter. We have it. Lancelot’s Knight of Owner will hide it from him. We can kill Salem. We can save the world.”_

_“Yeah, great. Say, how long do you think we have until he figures out it’s gone?”_

_“ **THIEF!!!!!!!!!** ”_

_Both huntresses paled, even Lancelot frozen in place._

_“We should go.”_

_“Yes, we should.”_

_The world blurred around Yang once more, this time transporting her to a dark hill overlooking a hell she could only assume was the Grimmlands. Summer and Lancelot stood a few steps behind Raven, who grinned at the peak of the mound. In her hands was an object about the size of the cloth package Summer had pulled from the vault, a strange spiral cylinder made up of three black and red sections, a hilt of pure gold supporting it even as it was coated in a black fog._

_“Goodbye Salem,” she whispered._

_Raven thrust the strange sword to the black sky._

_“Enuma Elish!”_

_What Yang saw next, shattered her entire world._

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Gilgamesh growled, the monster roaring as he charged.

No, not monster. The Son of Zeus may have been mad, but he had more than proved his worth as a hero. For one with divine blood to shatter Enkidu was supposed to be impossible. To do so nonetheless… why was it that the thieves consistently summoned Servants far worthier than they deserved? It made his task so much more tiresome.

Normally, facing a foe as formidable as a fellow demigod would be a rare entertainment, something to be enjoyed down to the last instant. It was plausible, though highly unlikely, that they actually had a chance against him, after all. Hercules had certainly proven so, landing the most devastating blow he had sustained since his duels with his only friend so long ago. Indeed, if he hadn’t been wearing his armor, that single strike would have shattered his ribcage and crushed his lungs.

Usually, he would have drawn the giant off by sending a few treasures at his master, forcing him to choose between defending the wretch or continuing his assault. He had no doubt the Greatest Hero of Greece would not hesitate to protect his master on the barest chance he would kill her even as the warrior struck the final blow.

Unfortunately, Gilgamesh couldn’t take the chance that he would fail, and his attack _would_ kill the thief. Lower than a mongrel she may have been, Raven Branwen was his only lead to finding his stolen treasure. He needed her alive at all costs.

Which left him facing a rampaging demigod with only scant yards to cross to strike him. Even if the king opened every door of his treasury and bombarded the Servant of Madness with the Rank A weapons needed to penetrate his defenses, he wasn’t sure it would be enough to stop him, not with a Command Seal augmenting his already extraordinary agility and endurance. Even if he riddled him with the finest of blades, nothing would stop the juggernaut’s charge.

Not even himself.

Gilgamesh smirked.

A single shimmering portal appeared before him. Hercules dodged to the side and doubled his speed, raising his fist to dive into another titanic punch.

But no weapon exited the gate. Instead, it quadrupled in size, large enough for a person to walk through. Unable to halt his momentum, Hercules crashed through the shimmering portal, his head and shoulders entering its confines in the blink of an eye.

Gilgamesh snapped his fingers.

And in the blink of an eye, the gate closed.

The shimmering golden pool disappeared, and Hercules’ upper body along with it. His lower half, from his abdomen to his feet, cluttered to the floor with the smack of a stone slab.

Rank A Noble Phantasms were required to harm the Son of Zeus.

The Gate of Babylon was Rank EX.

Ironically, Gilgamesh had perfected the technique out of a burning need to ensure something like the thieves’ infiltration never happened again. How they had laid the seeds of their own demise.

The golden king glanced up at his true target. Raven Branwen fell to her needs, the light shattered in her crimson eyes.

“Surely, you didn’t expect this to end any other way,” he remarked as he stomped across the glacial floor. “You knew you were dead the moment you defied me. Your disgusting life since then has merely been a formality.”

Terror led the cursed woman to raise her hands, a torrent of flames sparking between her finger as her eyes lit with a familiar mystical glow.

Gilgamesh put an end to that foolishness with a wave of his hand, an unbroken strand of Enkidu shooting out and binding the wench. The magic of a maiden was no threat to him with his armor on, but he was tired of defiance. He would apologize to his friend for forcing him to touch this wretched _thief_ later.

His gauntlet closed around the woman’s throat in a vice grip, the bandit choking as he carefully applied just enough pressure to put her in agony without killing her.

“I hope you appreciate the magnitude of what you have done,” he hissed, his spittle splashing on her gasping face. “In all of history, there is no greater criminal than you or your compatriot. She was able to escape like the coward she was, but you will have no such luck. Your deception has failed, your pawns have fallen, and when I am done with you, the torture you will have suffered shall spawn a new legend that shall see you scream in agony in the Throne throughout all eternity. Now, I will give you one chance, to beg, to repent, to make some recompense for your sin. WHERE. IS. EA?!?”

The bandit struggled, her meager hands desperately clutching at his hand. Her petrified gaze glanced away, desperate to escape his judgment even for a moment. Her eyes widened.

“P…Pl…Ple…”

Gilgamesh lightened his grip by the barest fraction, allowing the bandit to release her answer.

“Please… don’t hurt her.”

The King of Heroes raised an eyebrow, fairly certain that was not an applicable response to his query. His eyes followed her gaze to understand.

Kirei exited the golden vault, the strange lantern set in the doorway as he dragged Iskandar’s master through the threshold.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Your spawn shall not be harmed for your crimes. After all, she has already proved herself far worthier than you could ever be. It was she who informed me of your deception.”

He disregarded the thief’s widening eyes of betrayal, checking to make sure Kirei hadn’t gotten overzealous and killed the girl. If she died, then so would the King of Conquerors and having such a rival die from so pitiful a reason was just inexcusable. Besides, he favored the girl, as much as he could any mongrel. She had a strong spirit and her wish for the Grail was a worthy one. She was a prime example of why this new world’s humanity was so wondrous to behold.

Yet, though Kirei seemed to have let the girl live as instructed, she still spasming on the ground in agony, an ethereal white glow behind her eyes.

_‘Kirei, the girl?’_

_“It seems the Relic of Knowledge has had an adverse effect on her.”_

_‘Ah.’_

That would not do. Though if the thief had sought such a device, perhaps he should have let her destroy herself. Still, he opened a gate to his treasury and Kirei deposited the Relic inside his storehouse.

He turned back to his captive. “Now then, shall I repeat the question, or shall we simply skip to your punishment?”

He squeezed her throat again, reveling in the agony in her pathetic eyes, the tears that welled and threatened to fall. It was no less than she deserved.

Though, whatever answer she may have offered was cut off by the crash at the entrance. And the streaks of red lightning and green that bolted out of it.

Gilgamesh snarled. His patience with these mongrels had long passed.

 

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In hindsight, Ruby realized that rushing into the vault had been a terrible idea. Though in her defense, when Blake met up with them at the school and told them Yang was down there with Kirei, Raven, and very likely Gilgamesh, she’d panicked quite a bit. The earthquakes that raced through the mountain every other second certainly didn’t help put her mind at ease.

Thus, since Emerald had already run off somewhere else after she and Blake had spotted Gilgamesh at the bottom of the pit, and fortunately taken Caster out of her fight with Lancer at the same time, the five of them immediately dropped down into the cavern, Blake on Diarmuid’s back while Mordred had kept her grip on her and Jaune.

The Servants had landed with a crash, dropped their masters in the smoke and then raced out to help Yang and Raven. Ruby prayed that the element of surprise combined with the two’s speed would be enough to catch the King of Heroes off guard. That prayer didn’t last long as a dozen golden portals emerged and took aim at the charging knights.

Ruby knew they wouldn’t make it. But they didn’t need to. She’d gotten word on the way over. Archer was on his way. And she could hear him chanting.

_‘I am the bone of my sword.’_

They just needed to hold out for a few moments. Just a few.

A barrage of gold erupted upon Mordred and Diarmuid. The two knights bobbed and weaved across the quickly crumbling glacial floor, their respective weapons lashing out to deflect as much of the bombardment as possible. But they couldn’t avoid them all.

Mordred was struck first, having already sustained multiple wounds from both the golden king and Assassin. A glittering lance nailed her in the lower thigh, sending her tumbling to the ground as the ice cracked beneath her.

_‘Steel is my body and fire is my blood.’_

Diarmuid rocketed over to his comrade, Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe bolting out like crimson and yellow tongues. The twin spears flew over Mordred, ensuring that no other projectile would touch the Knight of Treachery.

Unfortunately, that left the Spear of Fianna without his own defense. Moments after he saved Mordred’s life half a dozen times over, a pair of gem-encrusted hand axes tore through his hamstrings. He rammed his lances into the glacier to try and stay upright, but a dagger across the side drove him onto his back.

_‘I have created over a thousand blades.’_

_‘Unknown to Death,’_

_‘Nor known to Life.’_

Mordred struggled to her feet and raised Clarent in her hands. Crimson lightning surged around the broadsword, ready to blaze forth.

A golden hammer bashed the blade from the rebellious knight’s grip, putting a stop to that as the Brilliant Royal Sword slid across the ice.

Gilgamesh sneered at the pair, a pair of swords aiming for the two Servants. “This matter does not concern you, mongrels. Perish from my sight.”

“ **Strike Air**!”

Gilgamesh summoned a portal before him and materialized a large bronze circle shield to block Jaune’s assault, the rushing tornado whipping around the golden king and the bound Raven. Fortunately, the deflected blast buffeted Kirei to the king’s side, forcing the robed man to his knees. Beside him, Yang's unconscious form, a faint white light dispersing from her eyes, was thrown into the frame of the vault’s majestic gates, orange leaves falling all around her.

Ruby wanted to run to her sister, pull her away from the man who’d butchered their father and the one who’d killed their mother. But even with her speed, she wouldn’t be able to make it over, not with Gilgamesh’s scathing eyes turned to them, and with him the weapons he’d aimed for Mordred and Diarmuid.

Two golden swords came hurdling downrange.

Blake tackled Jaune to the ground, the explosion from the weapons’ impact sending them both skidding across the ice.

_‘Have withstood pain to create many weapons, waiting for one’s imminent arrival,_

_‘Yet these hands will never hold anything.’_

Ruby pulled her hood across her face to shield herself from the dust. One more instant, that’s all they needed.

She leapt forward, her silver eyes locked with the King of Heroes’ crimson, both of them unyielding as iron.

_& n^%$ El#%$_

Ruby’s mind screamed, and silver flooded her vision. The light focused itself into a pair of visceral beams and barreled towards Gilgamesh, a furious stream of blazing white ready to melt him to ash. The Servant pushed forward the shield he had used to deflect Jaune’s attack.

Gold and silver collided in a violent struggle of apex, the latter ruthless and terrifying, the former unyielding, unwavering, allowing nothing to trespass on its perfect, magnificent order.

At least, until a white frost began to seep into its edges, slowly turning the metal brittle and soft, creeping its way to the center of the magnificent shield.

Gilgamesh’s eyes widened. “No. No, it can’t be…”

His glare hardened, and his golden fist closed. A shield three times the size of his previous barrier, copper and bold, emerged from the shimmering portal, more a fortress wall than a warrior’s personal defense.

The barrier slammed into the steadily disintegrating shield from behind and like the blades of the gate, both were shot out like cannon fire. Both structures charged through the silver flare, rampaging against the surge of energy, enforcing the immovable will of the one true king.

Ruby’s power slowed the attack down, but it could not stop it. She jumped up and curled her body to shield her vital organs.

The shields slammed into her like a bullhead and sent her flying backward. Her hood flew off her head, her cloak barely clutching her exhausted form. She soared towards the back wall of the entrance pit.

Until she stopped, a firm but soft grip halting her flight.

_‘So as I pray…’_

Her eyes cracked opened and beheld her silver-haired savior. Her Servant. Her uncle. Her hero.

Her family.

“ ** _Unlimited Bladeworks!”_**


	63. The Hill of Swords

Ozpin sighed, the glow of his magic circuits fading from his arms. “Leonardo, why didn’t you just talk to me?”

His old friend could not answer. His crushed and bloody chest prevented that.

Everything had come crumbling down. Ozpin had done everything he could to talk Leonardo down, but the terror that had gripped him, whatever Salem had shown him, had driven him mad. The man he had entrusted Haven to was long gone. All that had been left to do was put him down.

Lionheart’s fighting style relied on stationary fire, his weapon essentially making him an artillery platform. The downside to such methods was the difficulty in striking a small, fast-moving target. And Ozpin had prided himself on speed for several lifetimes. Once he had gotten his hands on the lion faunus, all that had been left to do was unleash the proper spell.

Now, the deed was done. And Ozpin felt empty once more.

_‘Oscar, are you alright? This is the first time you’ve seen a dead body.’_

_“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”_

He was lying. Ozpin had seen his first body in countless lives and not once had he ever been  _fine_. Oscar was trying to be brave. Admirable, but unhelpful in the long run. One would never stop being unsettled by carnage. Or at least they shouldn’t.

Nevertheless, they didn’t have time to dwell on the matter. One foe had been defeated, but they were still in the middle of a battle.

Ozpin whirled around and exited the ruins of the headmaster’s office. The rest of the school wasn’t much better, the elegant, sturdy walls reduced to rubble against the constant crash of battle. Like Beacon before it, the academy that Ozpin had built at the end of the Great War was now nothing more than a husk.

Though, strangely, the mountain had ceased its shaking from below. For the last few minutes, the earthquakes had been a near constant presence even against the roar of the rest of the battle. Their cessation either meant whatever battle below had transferred to a separate plane of reality, likely the Reality Marble within the Vault of the Spring Maiden, or the combat had reached a conclusion. With any luck, one of their allies had triumphed—Ah!

Ozpin’s thoughts were interrupted by a blast of pink prana, Oscar’s body barely reacting in time to dodge the surge. His eyes glared over the area, but nothing caught his sight, something that definitely shouldn’t have been possible when Caster had just attacked him. Which meant the intrusive presence he felt in his mind, a benefit of his renewed mage abilities, was blinding him.

Luckily, it only knew to affect  _his_ mind.

_‘Oscar?’_

_“Two of them. One above, one charging.”_

Ozpin lunged, his cane stabbing forth. A green sigil blazed in front of it and a dozen streaks of energy raced towards two distinct positions. A pair of pink glyphs flared to life and met the missiles midflight, both sending up blinding clouds of dust. Suddenly, the smog was parted in two, as if by some invisible sword.

A grin crossed the former headmaster’s face. He raised his cane into the path of the supposed invisible weapon and felt something wrap around the length multiple times. A flash of reinforcement and he tugged the link hard, feeling something come flying towards him.

Unfortunately, his senses flared before the item to get there, a barrage of black spectral swords falling towards his head. He darted away as best he could, but he was forced to drop his cane in the escape.

Ozpin growled, whirling to the ghostly blades’ source. “Ms. Schnee.”

The white-haired girl narrowed her hellish yellow pupils, more glyphs spawning above her head, their blades aimed and ready.

The air shimmered and Emerald and Caster appeared at her side.

_“Um, Oz,”_ Oscar gulped.  _“We’re outnumbered.”_

_‘I can see that,’_ Ozpin reminded him, a bead of sweat rolling down his face.  _‘Don’t worry. We are not without allies. I can hold out long enough for Qrow and the others to come to our—’_

A heavy tingle rushed down his spine. The floor beneath his feet cracked and splintered.

_‘Oh no.’_

_“What? Who is it?”_

“OZPIN!!!”

The eon old wizard slammed into the ravaged ground, his aura straining as the air itself seeming to heave upon him, pressing him hard into the ruptured stone.

Ozpin strained to raise his eyes against the weight of gravity, only catching a glimpse of an unfamiliar pair of monstrous bare black feet.

And a slightly smaller, far more familiar pair of brown boots with green leggings.

“Hazel.”

The Last Hero delivered a swift, heavy kick to the wizard’s face and Ozpin saw only darkness.

 

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Emerald sighed as the little boy, apparently Professor Ozpin, went down for the count. After her attack on Kirei had gone far worse than she’d expected, the farmhand being clever enough to use the smoke to see through her illusions had been a bit of an unwelcome surprise.

She couldn’t believe that bastard. She’d known her former teammate was strong, but she’d thought with Caster’s reinforcement she could destroy him and avenge Cinder. Instead, the stupid smirking jerk had still overpowered her and somehow using his Black Keys to negate her semblance. It was infuriating. She’d had to regroup with Caster just to make sure the jerk wouldn’t leap back out of the hole Xiao-Long had shoved him down like some sort of horror movie character. So what if she’d lost Blake, she wasn’t going to be within half a mile of that guy without a Servant at her back.

But now that she did, and Hazel and Rider Alter had arrived, they could head down that same hole and slaughter the bastard. Cinder would be avenged!

Hazel examined the three of them. “Watts?”

“Dead,” Weiss stated simply.

“I see.” Hazel frowned, his eyes drooping just a bit.

Weiss snaked forward, Myrtenaster swinging at her side. She raised the thin blade over Ozpin’s unconscious form. “Well, time to finish this up.”

“No,” Hazel declared, catching her arm as it fell.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Weiss demanded. “It’s Ozpin. Literally, the Queen’s archnemesis. He’s been molding my friends to be his pawns. Hell, you want his head more than anyone in this room.”

Hazel’s infernal glare at the boy on the ground didn’t do much to argue against the Ice Queen’s declaration. Still, he shook his head. “If we kill him, he’ll just reincarnate. And as this boy proves, he’s not averse to immediately returning to the fray.”

“So, what, are we just leaving him here?” Emerald inquired. Killing a kid younger than even Ruby wasn’t exactly her first choice, but he was housing an ancient wizard. Leaving on the battlefield to recover wouldn’t do much for the Queen’s cause.

“No,” Hazel assured her. He leaned down and heaved the child over his shoulder. “We’re taking him back with us. The Queen wants to deal with him personally. She has something special in mind. We’re leaving now.”

“What?” Emerald exclaimed. “We can’t leave! Kirei is here. He’s down in the Vault. We have to kill him.”

“Not anymore,” Hazel revealed. “There are no mystical signatures in the vicinity other than our own. Not even the Vault is active anymore.”

Emerald turned to her Servant. “Caster?”

“It’s true, master,” Medea confirmed. “I don’t know how, but it’s as if they all vanished. I was battling Lancer mere minutes ago and now I can’t catch a whiff of him.”

“How? People don’t just disappear like that!”

“You said Kirei was in the Vault?” Weiss inquired. “If he called Gilgamesh once he got down there, I think it’s quite easy to guess what happened to the other Servants. He found Raven Branwen down there and slaughtered them all, taking the Relic of Knowledge with him.”

Emerald whirled back to Hazel. “The Queen once mentioned that you could kill Gilgamesh. Well, he’s right here.”

“ _If_ the King of Heroes doesn’t have Ea, I have a chance against him,” Hazel corrected. “And if by capturing Raven Branwen, he has somehow reclaimed his treasure… regardless, he’s not here. A mystical signature like his could not be suppressed. With the Relic gone, and our enemies gone, we have no reason to stay.”

“Well, that bandit and Lancer’s master are still dealing with my Arma Nuckelavee. And according to Saber Alter, there’s no sign of Ruby, Jaune, or their Servants,” Weiss noted. “I don’t mind saving them for later. But what about Yang’s Rider? Did you two finish him?”

“I will destroy the King of Conquerors at his full strength,” Rider Alter growled at the Ice Queen. “Not a moment before.”

“That’s fine,” Weiss shrugged. “If you see him again, that just means that Yang got away from Gilgamesh.”

Caster cocked an eyebrow. “You think your friend can evade the King of Heroes?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past my team.”

“That’s enough discussion,” Hazel declared. “Rider, your mount.”

“As you wish.”

Emerald seethed. “So, we’re just going to run? The enemy could still be here. We’ve seen every Servant but Assassin, so that must be the one Kirei summoned. Maybe he’s got some Noble Phantasm that can hide them.”

“Even if he did, the King of Heroes would not let him use it,” Hazel declared. “He does not appreciate help in battles he claims as his own, and he certainly wouldn’t hide.”

“Relax, Emerald,” Weiss insisted. “This isn’t a defeat. Even if you’re right and Kirei has  _somehow_ hidden himself from us, a good deal of our enemies have still been wiped out and the remainder crippled. Ruby has a great deal of spirit, but she has no idea how to fight something of the Queen’s scale. With Qrow dead and Ozpin in our grasp, she won’t even know where to go. At least until I provide her with the Queen’s guiding light.

Emerald gnashed her teeth, but she couldn’t really argue. This wasn’t a total victory, they’d lost the Relic of Knowledge after all, but with the gains they’d made it wasn’t a defeat either. Cutting their losses wasn’t a bad plan. Part of being a good thief was knowing when to pull out after all.

Still, letting Cinder’s murderer escape infuriated her.

“Master,” Caster whispered gently. “Are you alright?”

Emerald sighed. “I’m fine, Caster. Thanks for asking. How are you doing? Lancer looked like he was giving you one heck of a fight.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Caster sneered. “Fighting a Knight Class is hard enough for a mage when they don’t have a weapon that can destroy magic. If our little duel had gone on much longer, I suspect it would have been quite bad for my health.”

“Well what do you know, looks like Kirei’s good for something after all,” Emerald remarked. She shook her head smiled at her Servant. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thank you, master. Though at least if our enemy has been wiped out by the King of Heroes, we won’t have to deal with that spearman again.”

“I’ll put that in the very small positives column.”

 

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Diarmuid had seen many incredible things in his life, but the wonders of the Archer Class seemed to continuously top them all.

He’d gone unaware of the King of Heroes’ identity throughout the entirety of the Fourth Holy Grail War, but he’d hardly been surprised when Rider had informed him. From the first night at the Fuyuki docks, it had been blatantly obvious that the golden man was a Servant of rare power even among heroes. Arrogant he may have been, his confidence was hardly unwarranted when he could rain down a horde of Noble Phantasms onto any unsuspecting or suspecting foes. He had believed Archer when he’d said he had a countermeasure to the Gate of Babylon, though he could not fathom what the mysterious Unlimited Bladeworks could be.

Now, staring up at a soot-filled sky dominated by titanic rusty gears, his mind began to fill in the dots.

“Wha…this is what he’s had up his sleeve?” Mordred gasped, her gaze wide like Diarmuid’s own over the endless field of blades. “It’s incredible.”

The two knights kneeled on the ground, both leaning heavily on their weapons. Neither had gone into the charge against Gilgamesh fresh, though Diarmuid reasoned his match with Caster likely took a lighter strain than Mordred’s own experience from what little he’d heard, and the damage the King of Heroes had done to their legs was not insignificant. Add to that both their masters being dangerously low on aura, and therefore power to provide them, and they wouldn’t be moving too quickly any time soon.

Fortunately, Archer had seen fit to rearrange their positions when he’d brought the group into his inner world. Where once they’d been scattered, now they were united beside a hill of swords, Lady Blake, Jaune, and Ruby, and the unconscious Yang all situated behind the knights. Even Raven, freed from her bindings, resided with them, frantically looking over her daughter’s fallen form.

“Yang!” Ruby cried. She rushed over to her sister and joined the bandit leader on the ground, searching the blonde for any noticeable injuries. “How is she? What’s wrong?”

“The Relic of Knowledge,” Raven declared. “If it’s lit by anyone but Ozpin, Salem, or a maiden, it can’t control the information it grants someone, not without unimaginable focus on their part. Yang’s just had an entire universe of events crammed into her skull, maybe even more.”

“Well then how do we fix her?” Ruby yelled.

“She shouldn’t have lasted this long,” Raven murmured. “Maybe… maybe she’s doing it. If she hasn’t been burned up by now, maybe she’s focused the stream, cut it down to one event, or a series thereof. If she has, she should be fine. I hope.”

“You  _hope_?” Ruby growled.

Raven’s looked away, shame in her crimson eyes.

Diarmuid sympathized with her guilt, but she had brought this upon herself. She had betrayed them to steal the Relic and endangered them all in the process. Speaking of…

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked Blake.

His master nodded. “I’m alright. Had a few close calls with Emerald and Kirei, but I got out okay.” Her gaze shifted to the steel littered fields around them. “This… this place is incredible.  _This_ is a Reality Marble? Rider’s got one of these too?”

“Apparently,” Jaune confirmed. Having already been in the inner world before, he was less enthralled than the rest of them. Though even then, his gaze darted to the massive gears floating in the sky, shavings of rust crumbling off the artificial satellites. “Stay on your guard. Even if this goes our way, it’s going to be messy.”

Mordred raised her sword, stumbling over her wounded knee but gritting her teeth long enough to stay. “Don’t worry, master. Nothing’s going to hurt you here.”

“A good plan.”

All heads whirled to the top of the hill of blades, Archer himself standing stoically at its peak. His crimson mantle flew back majestically even in the windless world, his shadow blazing across the amber ground.

“I’ll keep him from taking any direct shots at you all, but there’s only so much I can do after the initial deflection,” the Servant of the Bow warned. “Keep your masters and mine safe until this is over.”

“What?” Ruby exclaimed, shooting to her feet. “No, Archer, I can help you.”

“Master, this world takes quite a bit of  _prana_ to maintain,” Archer reminded her. “Your aura isn’t the best as it is. If you just into the fray, there’s no telling how much time we’ll have. And before you mention your silver eyes, I don’t recall you having that glowing scar the last time we saw each other.”

Diarmuid recognized what Archer was referring to, a short cut of glowing silver shining just under Ruby’s right eye. The young huntress smacked her hand over it and glared at her Servant.

Archer only smiled. “Don’t worry, Ruby. Saber and Lancer will save who they can, so I can save who I can. I’m not in this alone.”

Ruby looked down, her eyes glancing towards Yang before streaking back to her Servant. “Assassin… were you able to… you know?”

Archer frowned. “No. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to land a blow with Rule Breaker before your message arrived. I was forced to end him.”

Ruby’s fists clenched at her sides, a tear flowing down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re more important.” Archer declared. He turned his gaze away from the hillside and towards the distant plain. “Besides, this just means I have a lot to work out.”

Diarmuid didn’t know who this Assassin was that Archer apparently hadn’t planned on killing, nor did he know what this Rule Breaker had been supposed to do, but at the moment, he didn’t think it mattered. Not when there was a tinge of gold slowly marching towards their position, a man of black robes several yards behind him.

“A Reality Marble? How quaint.” Gilgamesh sneered. His armor was torn and dented in odd places, likely a souvenir of some previous battle, most likely the Berserkers. Still, his pristine golden aura pushed away the smog around him, even this new world unwilling to stand in his path if it didn’t have to.

Archer cocked his head to the side. From behind the King of Heroes, a slinking sliver of steel shot across the air, racing for the back of Gilgamesh’s master with the broken arm, Kirei Kotomine.

A shimmering portal emerged before the flying blade and produced a small golden shield. The steel bolt rammed against it and exploded into dozens of shards.

Gilgamesh frowned. “Aiming for my master. A brutal strategy, if a wise one, mongrel. Still, I am tired of dealing with this pointless interference. And I have no time for fools who think my treasury can be overcome by crude mental images. Hand over the thief, and I will consider making your execution swift.”

“What a generous offer, King of Heroes,” Archer chuckled. “But I’ll have to decline.”

“Then perish.”

A dozen portals emerged above Gilgamesh and fired a barrage of golden weapons, each one radiating eons of legend. Diarmuid flinched just seeing them, let alone when two of the weapons peeled off and came for Mordred and Jaune. He raised his spears just as the Knight of Treachery sparked with lightning.

They needn’t have bothered.

A dozen swords sailed across the air on waves of blue  _prana_ sparks, each one ramming straight into an incoming projectile. Archer’s barrage shattered into shards upon impact, but Gilgamesh’s blades were still knocked widely off course, floundering into the rich dirt like the masterless weapons they were.

Diarmuid’s eyes widened. Not just because Archer had deflected the same kind of bombardment that had crippled him and Mordred without even lifting a finger, but because his keen spearman’s eyes had noted something about the swords that had collided.

They were exactly the same.

“You  _dare_?” Gilgamesh roared, his thin façade of calm finally cracking under this final insult.

Archer smirked. “You’re not the only one with a deep bag of tricks, King of Heroes.”

“ _Faker_ ,” Gilgamesh snarled, spit flying from his mouth. His hands closed into fists at his sides. “This day has dealt no end of insults to my glorious visage, and though not even this can match the sheer blasphemy of the  _thief’s_ trespass, you seem eager to try. To stain my treasures with the vile mockery of imitation. You will—”

“They’re not your treasures.”

The golden king froze mid-snarl. “ _What_?”

“They’re not your treasures,” Archer repeated, stone-faced. “They are treasures to those they passed on to, either physically or by inspiring a new wonder. The heroes who mastered them, who bound them to their legends, to them, these weapons are treasures. Not to you. To you, they’re just trinkets, items to be hoarded, as if having them made you somehow greater.”

“They do not make me greater. They are mine.” Gilgamesh stated imperiously, his jaw set like hardened gold. “And anything that is mine is deserving of the utmost respect. Not to be mocked by partly imitations created solely to weaken their value.”

“Weaken their value? Your way of thinking never ceases to confound me, King of Heroes.” Archer’s mischievous smirk returned. “To you, these weapons are trinkets. To the heroes that made them legend, they are treasures or the highest order. But to me? To me, they are simply tools. Tools to do the duty of a hero.”

“The ‘duty of a hero’? Ha!” Gilgamesh laughed. “Spoken like a true fake. Any being worthy enough to be called a hero forges their own path to renown. It is not some fantasy to be imitated by the childish whims of the masses. But if you wish to be a martyr…”

Three score portals spawned in the sky above the monarch, a shimmering tower of lethal gold.

“I’ll gladly give you a funeral worthy of a saint!”

Archer’s eyes narrowed. For every weapon that cluttered the ashen clouds above Gilgamesh, an identical copy materialized in the air behind the opposite Servant of the Bow.

“Take your best shot, King of Heroes. For your sake, I hope you have enough weapons in stock.”

Twin bombardments rushed forth and Diarmuid shielded his master from the roaring tempest of steel and gold.

 

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Kirei was surprised.

It was a strange feeling, one he’d been feeling more since the Sixth Holy Grail War had started than he had for the rest of his time on Remnant combined. Since his aura had been unlocked, his semblance allowed him to cheat most deception. Yet, starting with his summoning of Kiritsugu, he’d found that the war simply kept circumventing his expectations.

He had considered the possibility that Archer would triumph over Assassin in their duel, however meager that chance at victory was. Despite knowing that the younger EMIYA was a mage, he had not discarded the idea that he would have some trick to gain the upper hand, though he’d considered the son’s agony at having to slay the father as a worthy consolation prize if his greatest hope was not realized. What he had not considered was that Archer would somehow escape from the Command Seal ordered Kiritsugu while the latter was still alive.

And he was still alive. Kirei had been able to sense him fast approaching when they’d all been pulled into this new world, his Presence Concealment active but not functional against his own master. Nevertheless, he would not be able to bring his Servant into the new dimension they were trapped in. That would require the powers of the Second Magic, and though there were stories of Command Seals mimicking such feats, they could only do so when the master and Servant were in complete agreement, something that he and Kiritsugu certainly were not, and likely never would be.

Then, there was the entire debacle about the younger EMIYA having a  _Reality Marble_.

He’d been familiar with the entities thanks to Rider’s participation in the Fourth War, though this was his first time being present inside the new world. It was a… mystifying sight. The smoke, the gears shedding rust, the endless field of swords, it was all wondrous. But only because it meant nothing. As Archer himself had said, everything within this world was nothing more than a tool to do what needed to be done. There was an admirable utilitarianism to it that Kirei could not help but appreciate. Before he had dedicated himself to his own pleasure, he himself had been cursed with that same empty efficiency.

But for hollow vigor to manifest into a mental landscape strong enough to be summoned into the physical world? The only thing that could possibly do so was a Noble Phantasm.

But Archer was a Counter Guardian, just like Kiritsugu. He didn’t have a Noble Phantasm, Kirei’s semblance had confirmed it. So how had he done this?

What other ways were there to utilize such magic… magic…

If this was not a Noble Phantasm, then it must have been… so that was why he’d aimed for him first. Clever boy. Truly, an Emiya of the highest account.

Kirei smiled, his twinkling dark eyes gazing upon the ever-growing titanic clash of blades before him. He couldn’t recall a time when Gilgamesh was stalemated so thoroughly. Karna had matched him blow for blow, but it had been quite clearly requiring more effort from the Hero of Charity and that man had been a fellow demigod. Archer was matching him with ease, with inferior copies of his own weapons even, and there was not a drop of divine blood in the scion of Emiya.

The King of Heroes had not enjoyed the constant delays in his quest to reclaim his treasure. Now, this new obstacle was in front of him, one seemingly tailor-made to aggravate him to the highest degree. He would not take kindly to any inference in their battle.

So Kirei would let him have his fun. After all, he’d released him from his eternal nothingness and shown him that there was no need to hide from his own pleasure, so he owed him that much. Besides, the King of Heroes had never failed before. Why should he doubt him now?

Other than his broken armor, the absence of his greatest weapon, and the battlefield itself seeming to be a perfect counter to his abilities.

Hmm…

 

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Archer had never actually used Unlimited Bladeworks against Gilgamesh. Sure, he had theorized about it, but his only experience with the golden king had been during his own war, and though he had helped as much as he could, the victory had ultimately been Saber’s. He had only acquired his Reality Marble, or at least the ability to fully manifest it, after he had become a Counter Guardian. His thoughts had drifted back to that final battle quite a bit, imagining, perhaps a bit vainly, what could have been if he had been able to handle the King of Heroes himself, allowed Saber to retain a bit more  _prana_ to stay just a few moments more. Of course, even in the back of his mind, he’d recognized that his fantasies did not necessarily translate to reality. Just because in theory his Reality Marble could deflect the Gate of Babylon’s continuous onslaught, did not mean it would be able to in real life. Now, finally executing the tactic firsthand, he could safely say that things were not going the way he’d planned it.

They were going much, much better.

He’d been worried his blades wouldn’t be able to keep up with Gilgamesh’s maddening rate of fire, but even as more and more shimmering portals sprouted into being, not a single one could get off a shot before his eyes sighted them and summoned the weapon’s counterpart from the endless fields. Even when the golden gateway expanded itself into a gargantuan wall, seemingly covering the world from gear to gear, his fakes soared out to sunder them all, two or three blades sometimes riding forth to smash the majestic originals to shards instead of deflecting them off course.

That was better. Though Mordred and Diarmuid were perfectly capable of defending the others and themselves so long as he cut off the momentum of anything headed towards them, neither of them was in the best shape at the moment. He’d much rather eliminate the threat entirely, just as he’d tried with Kirei, instead of leaving the possibility for something to tip against him.

A tingle shot up his rigid spine, his Eye of the Mind alerting him to a threat from behind. More golden portals no doubt, he could even feel the slight rush of wind from the shifting space emanating from above him. Gilgamesh was adapting, recognizing that Archer needed to  _see_ his blades to call forth the necessary copies.

Fortunately, while his agility was not astounding by Servant standards, it was still within Servant standards. It hardly took him time to whirl around and catch a glimpse of the swords emerging behind and above him, quick bursts of blue sparks accompanying the arrival of his false blades to halt the originals’ advance.

Archer scowled, as all around him legends died to their imitators. His earlier disparagement of Gilgamesh had riled the golden king up as he’d hoped, but he’d underestimated just how furious the tyrant had already been. He supposed encountering the one who’d taken his oldest treasure would do that.

Ea’s absence could already be keenly felt. Usually, Gilgamesh would be somewhat playful when furious, determined to make his enemy fully understand the folly of challenging him by cutting them down piece by piece, like a child slowly stripping a fly of its wings. But now, he was unleashing the full force of his arsenal. Archer had planned to force him slowly higher and higher, create an opening for him to dive in for close combat, an arena he was confident he could triumph in, but the King of Heroes had immediately lost patience when his initial assault had been halted.

He wasn’t in the mood for playing games. He wanted the upstart mongrel out of his way, so he could rip the whereabouts of his prized sword from the bandit who’d taken it, and he would do anything to make it happen. The faker aspect of Archer’s nature that he’d planned to infuriate Gilgamesh to mindlessness had instead focused the golden king’s fury, securing his sights on the only one standing between him and his true enemy.

Fortunately, this meant he wasn’t aiming for the others. Unfortunately, it also meant he wasn’t pulling his punches, even for pride’s sake.

Another two portals manifested over Archer’s head, far larger than the others. And just as Archer had feared, it wasn’t blades that fell out of them.

It was said that the Wise Queen of Assyria, Semiramis, was the first person to ever use poison to intentionally kill another. Unfortunately, that did not mean that Gilgamesh hadn’t had the tools to do so if he’d wished, just that he’d seen using such a method to execute another person to be beneath him.

Archer was pretty sure the golden man saw him as some sort of unruly insect. And himself as the exterminator.

The cauldrons tumbled out of the shimmering gates, golden tubs large enough to bathe a rhinoceros, each one inlaid with shining jewels and elaborate engraving because why wouldn’t Gilgamesh decorate his poison storage. The venom fell all at once, a torrential tsunami thrust down by the sky, black and steaming, disintegrating any erstwhile sword shards that got in its path. It would boil flesh, human or Servant, with only a touch. Fortunately, Mordred and Diarmuid had had the sense to gather up the others and get them out of the ‘splash zone’.

Which was quite lucky, because Archer wasn’t even sure if his plan would save himself.

After he’d learned Ea was gone, he’d begun preparing for the entirety of Gilgamesh’s armory, or at least the fraction that he knew about. For his near limitless rain of Noble Phantasms, he would meet them with his own weapons, hollow, but perfectly capable of throwing off the enemy’s trajectory. With Merodach, he could defeat the first sword of choosing with a series of projections of itself, overwhelming the Original Sin’s superior power with a few slightly weaker copies, still brimming with the weight of history.

And for the poisons older than the art of poisoning? For venom pulled from basilisks, hydra, and beasts more ancient still?

He had a flag.

The flag of a girl who heard the call of God, and went forth into war at his word, inspiring and shielding armies along the way. In the end, she was betrayed and burned as a witch, as if she could ever be mistaken for something so foul.

Sparks flew as the polearm of Jeanne D’Arc emerged in his grasp, the holy white and gold cloth blowing fiercely from the edge of the spearpoint. He rammed the end of the staff into the dirt of the hill of blades.

“ **Luminosite Eternelle**!”

The glow of saintly shielding rushed over his form as the poison crashed over him. Even through the absolute protection of the Maiden of Orleans, he could feel the bite of the venom desperately clawing through his meager protection. Jeanne had used her flag to protect armies with perfect defense, but the process worked by converted Magic Resistance into a barrier, a skill in which there was a vast degree of separation between her Rank EX and his Rank D. He was only able to use the flag at all because the Saint had had some moderate interaction with the Counter Force in life, of which he had served as a representative.

Still, the others had had the foresight to evacuate away from the danger, so he only had to protect himself. Admittedly, his shielding wouldn’t do much against any sort of concentrated real power, but the corrosive thin blaze of poison was deflected, if not without its fair share of pain.

Archer could handle pain.

The last of the venom rushed down the depths of the hill, liquifying the dirt and blades in its path, but evaporating off the red mantle of the Servant of the Bow in sparse wisps of steam. When he was sure the threat had passed, Archer released the saint’s staff and smirked once more at his foe.

“Come now, King of Heroes,” he mocked. “I thought you above such feeble tricks. Do really need your Sword of Rupture just to defeat one simple hero?”

The storm of blades that had halted during the poison drop, the king likely not willing to risk his weapons being scarred by his own attack, resumed immediately, golden swords, spears, and axes surrounding Archer from every scrap of air they could occupy. Even still the Wrought Iron Hero’s eyes surveyed all before him and the forge of his soul went to work, a thousand blades shooting forth to guard him for every thousand that came seeking his demise.

Until, finally, it was time to press the advantage.

He’d wanted to force Gilgamesh to play a few of his tricks, get a feel for the King of Heroes he was dealing with, but he could not afford a battle of endurance. Maintaining a Reality Marble was not a small burden, and neither Ruby’s aura nor his own  _prana_ reserves had been in the best shape when the fight had begun. The entire reason he’d gone for Luminosite Eternelle instead of one of his more traditional defenses was that it was easier to call forth a spear, a weapon relating to a sword, than a shield, even within his inner world.

He’d baited out the poison, and he was relatively sure he could deal with whatever else came. The others were safe, protected nearly half a mile away. Now was the time to attack.

Now all that was left was to save them.

He clenched his fists and flames stoked his wrought iron.

Suddenly, the soaring golden swords were not being deflected by single crumbling copies. They were being obliterated, pairs and trios of facsimiles ramming them without regret, the first strike crippling the originals, the following ones annihilating them. Bit by bit, Unlimited Bladeworks’ output pushed faster and faster, unleashing armory upon armory of imitations upon the once unassailable superiority of the genuine articles.

One by one, slowly but surely, the false swords gained ground, smashing into the shimmering golden portals before the gates could unleash a proper defense, slamming the breaches in reality shut.

The look on Gilgamesh’s face as his artillery was overcome and his line forced back from the hill of blades was one of the most amusing sights Archer could recall, which given the abysmal state of his memory might not have seemed like much, but it brought a genuine grin of amusement to the grim man’s face.

“Belligerent. Vulgar. Disgusting.  _Faker_.” Gilgamesh snarled, his crimson eyes blazing with their own murderous blaze. “You are nothing more than an insect. The lowest of mongrels fit only to suffer and be extinguished so you might no longer mar this beautiful world. This false mirage of yours is nothing! Just a mound of counterfeit scraps cobbling themselves together to forge degenerate insults!”

“Insults that are beating the originals,” Archer reminded him with a cheeky grin. “Face it, King of Heroes. Fake they be, there’s no law that says they can’t still surpass  _you_.”

Maybe it was the height his blond eyebrow twitched to, maybe it was the sudden creak of the golden man’s neck, but Archer was pretty sure his last itself snapped something  _very_ important in the King of Uruk. The man’s furious frown evaporated, replaced with a wide smile that made the Counter Guardian contemplate exactly how white the ancient monarch’s teeth were.

“I was going to exterminate you like the bug you are,  _faker_. But if you continue to insist on this charade of heroism, so be it. The path of devotion is great labor, mongrel.”

The portals behind Gilgamesh ceased their fire, the ranks in front of them holding back the onslaught of fakes. The silent shimmering doors pooled together, merging into a single towering gate, scratching the bottom of the world’s clouded firmament.

“Follow it to your end.”

Archer’s eyes widened, his mind finally putting together exactly what weapon he’d provoked the King of Heroes into using. Admittedly, it was one he’d never seen before, but the stories he’d heard more than made him tremble.

It inched out the portal slowly, even the Gate of Babylon needing to take time to aim the titanic weapon it held. An enormous slab of stone… no, a mountain carved in the shape of a sword, trespassed into Unlimited Bladeworks, its edge, as wide as three people standing shoulder to shoulder, carving the world’s smog-filled sky like the parting Red Sea of old.

Archer’s vision frayed with static, the gears on the horizon groaning as his mind screamed, unable to comprehend the unyielding, godly, uniqueness of the goliath before him.

Ig-Alima. The Mountain Felling Sword of the Mesopotamian God Zababa. And, as implied by its legendary wielder, a divine construct.

He’d never actually seen it before. In his war, he’d always been with Saber so Gilgamesh had always gone right for Ea if he wanted to make an impression. He’d only caught hints of its existence in his travels, much less put thought into how to beat it. Granted, it didn’t seem to be much more than a simple sword, but when that sword was large enough to blot out a good chunk of the sky and was being launched like a battleship-sized artillery shell, that wasn’t very reassuring.

Archer clamped his eyes shut immediately, cutting off the automatic tracing he’d set up to counter the Gate of Babylon. He opened them again right after but that crucial half second lost was long enough for the titanic blade to blast towards him. His Eye of the Mind flared, the sword he needed searing into his head and sprouting into his hand.

But he didn’t have the time to use it. The Sword that Cut a Thousand Mountains was nearly upon his hill. He needed just another second, he needed—

“ **Clarent Blood Arthur**!”

A wave of crimson lightning rushed passed Archer and slammed into Ig-Alima, the scarlet surge managing to coat about a third of the enormous blade. It didn’t stop the mountain’s advance, but it did slow down.

Archer’s hands rose immediately, but one of his eyes couldn’t help glancing over to the others. Mordred’s attack may not have been at full power, but it still required a rather large energy supply, energy that neither she nor Jaune were capable of providing with the toll the battle had extracted. Where had they gotten the necessary  _prana_?

His question was answered as soon as his gaze landed on them, Jaune clasping both Blake and Raven Branwen’s hands in his own, all three of their bodies aglow with aura. Ruby smirked his way and gave him a thumbs up, Diarmuid checking over the slowly stirring Yang.

Mordred was on her knees, her sword crackling with spent sparks. Her head heaved as she panted. Nevertheless, she wrenched herself up to glare straight at him.

“Kill that bastard, Archer!” The Knight of Treachery roared.

Maybe it was that she’d finally stopped calling him Jester, but the Prince of Camelot’s words brought a smirk to his lips. Without delay, he returned his full attention to the battle and brought down his sword.

The problem with fighting divine constructs was that generally, the only weapons that could match them without specific advantages were other divine constructs. Excalibur dominated most other blades and Ea, in turn, conquered it, only to be halted by Avalon itself. There was a reason Clarent, a top tier Noble Phantasm if there ever was one, had barely been able to slow Ig-Alima down. There was simply a limit to the capabilities of human works when put against the instruments of the heavens.

However, there was somewhat less restraint for the works of hell. And there was one demonic blade known to equal even the greatest of holy swords. Ironically, it was a weapon he’d gained during his last encounter with Gilgamesh.

“ **Gram**!”

The Dawn of Ruin erupted with vibrant turquoise energy, the power of the simple yet elegant blade surging forth. It was smaller than most sword beams Archer had seen, it was an Anti-Unit attack after all, but when it slammed into the flat of the incoming mountain, the tip of the stone saber shattered. The titanic weapon span to the left, side over side twirling as it fell off course, it’s once breakneck speed drifting into the dirt.

Archer dissipated Gram from his grip, likely the last Noble Phantasm he’d have the energy to activate. In the blink of an eye, he replaced it with his ever faithful Kanshou and Bakuya. With the married twin swords in hand, he leapt upward from his hill of blades.

 

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This. Was. Not.  _Possible!_

Gilgamesh seethed within his torn armor, the filthy dirt of this infernal mockery of a world defiling him with every moment he remained.

This mongrel, this  _faker_ infuriated him to no end, surpassed only by the  _thieves_ and that bitch of a cow goddess. He dared,  _dared_ , to taint the perfect majestic legacy of his wondrous treasures with his putrid, hollow fakes! Each item in his storehouse was one of a kind, the oldest and most magnificent of its type, the inspiration for all the strivings of humanity to follow, the light that guided the path of his people onward.

And this charlatan dared attempt to  _replicate_ them? Without effort or ingenuity? One could not simply exist on the peak of a mountain. They had to arrive there, through striving and pain and sorrow. He had been created to be the peak by the gods, but even when he was king, he did not become a hero until he had broken free of their chains. This mongrel sought to surpass that summit without putting in the blood, sweat, and sorrow to forge his own legend, merely hanging on to those myths of others and by extension  _him_? The King of Heroes had had every intention of showing the pathetic coward exactly how far his hollow fakes would get him.

At least he did, before the impossible happened.

He’d unleashed the full force of treasury, confident that his storehouse would easily overwhelm the inferior blades the faker returned fire with. He was not wrong, the hollow copies had shattered into useless scraps, but somehow, they had also applied enough force to knock his own swords off course. Even when he’d increased the Gate of Babylon’s firing rate to maximum, the false world around him always seemed to be able to put an empty obstacle in his path. In the end, it had become so frustrating that he’d decided to stop humoring the scum and just douse him in that disgusting liquid Enkidu had had him remove from the trees when they’d started dying for a reason he hadn’t been able to fathom at the time.

But even that swill had proved ineffective, the faker defending himself with a flag of all things. At that point, he’d just wanted the cretin gone! If the mongrel wanted to play at being hero, then the king would be gracious and let him die like one, challenging the heavens themselves.

Ig-Alima thrust forward and Gilgamesh knew he had won. He’d seen the faker flinch before the godly weapon had blocked his sight of him and he’d known that even if the mental world around them could copy a million mortal blades, it could not replicate a sword crafted with the elements of the divine. Even the interference of the King of Knights’ imitation could only stall the inevitable.

But then the turquoise light had shot out and sent the Mountain Felling Sword twirling over its side. It sank towards the ground and cleared the king’s vision of the hill of blades.

And the faker wasn’t there.

Immediately, Gilgamesh threw his senses out into the world, ignoring the blips of energy from the rampant copies and the thief’s party a way off. The faker wouldn’t have dared go into spirit form during a battle, without Presence Concealment, that would leave him wide open. But, aside from the hill of blades, the area was completely flat, without any cover in sight. So where had he disappeared to… that bastard.

The golden king’s gaze shot upward, the gigantic form of Ig-Alima blocking anything from being seen above it. From the very base of its titanic hilt, four small curved swords, two black and two white, flew out. And a moment later, the red-cloaked cretin leapt from the stone slab, diving towards Gilgamesh. The faker had used the brief time he’d been hidden from the king’s sight to jump  _on top_ of the mountain-sized blade, running down its length to get closer, hopping from edge to flat to edge as it span.

If he wasn’t so absolutely livid, Gilgamesh might have actually been impressed.

“ _Faker!_ ” he roared, the booming howl heard even above the thunderous impact of Ig-Alima’s final collision with the ground. All around the king, golden portals sprouted over and over, blasting treasure after treasure at the descending faker, even trying to get into his path to bisect him like Hercules.

But no matter how many treasures flew, no matter how many portals formed, the hideous landscape would always intercept them with swarms of hollow fakes, the smoke-filled sky sparkling as gold and blue shards scattered all around. All the while, the red-cloaked charlatan descended, the curved blades in his hands raised for a mighty slash.

It was impossible. Hercules had been a fellow demigod, a warrior at the apex of his era. His feats, his tenacity, the path he had carved outshined almost any other in the throne. He had managed to get so close to the king, to  _wound_ him even, because it was his nature, his striving that enabled him to stand among the greatest of heroes, his corpse a worthy addition to the king’s treasury. Iskandar may not have been the finest of warriors, but he was a usurper without equal, endless challenging the impossible, whatever might come from it. They were heroes in the truest sense.

And somehow, this faker, he was replicating their feat? With only hollow replicas of the legends of others, of the striving of his betters, he had evaded the Gate of Babylon and even now approached the king? This. Was. Not.  _Possible!_

Yet, it was being done. The impossible was being done.

How? What despicable trickery was at work?

The four blades the faker had thrown came for the king. Gilgamesh pulled an elegant longsword from his treasury and batted the cursed weapons aside, raised his treasure to meet his opponent’s physical strike.

He realized his error a moment later. The curved swords in the faker’s grasp were the same as the four he had thrown. A quick glance around the king revealed that the blades he had deflected had whirled around in midair, coming in for a second slash.

With a grit of his teeth, he called up portals all around him, save for his front. Shields, gods he had been reduced to defending by this faker, emerged all around him, blocking the airborne blades from interfering with the imminent clash.

The faker landed and swung down with his swords, the king bringing his own weapon up to meet the strike. Just from their clash, Gilgamesh could tell he was stronger than the charlatan, but with his treasury overcome, he couldn’t be sure something as meager as that would matter.

His suspicions were confirmed when the faker began his assault in earnest, his blades clearly visible to the King of Heroes, but his style so alien that the golden demigod could not conceive about how to counter. Swordsmanship had never been Gilgamesh’s specialty and though he was no amateur, it was not something he was especially practiced at, with what skills he had possessed further reduced by the Archer Class vessel he currently resided in. With all these disadvantages and the faker’s strange skill, it was not long before the king’s guard wavered.

When that moment came, it was vicious. The faker caught Gilgamesh’s sword on one of his own and knocked it aside, coming in for a slash with his opposite blade. The golden king had reluctantly accepted the necessity of retreat (forced by a  _faker!_ ) and hopped back, removing himself from the curved sword’s short range.

Suddenly though, the black blade had sparked with turquoise  _prana_ and expanded. Its length tripled in size and the edge exploded in a jagged series of spikes, cutting like a lion’s jaws. It caught the king in midair, slipping right into one of the gashes in his armor from his previous battle.

Gilgamesh gasped, the wound not lethal but added to the strike from Hercules was excruciatingly painful, a warm drip signifying the drawing of blood.

His opponent, the faker… no, Archer, had already raised his second sword, the jagged blade coming for the king’s head. The golden monarch was already in midair, his armor was compromised, and his treasury was nullified by the very world they resided in. There was no way to dodge the incoming strike.

How could he do this? He had no will of his own, just a patchwork and hollow imitations. And yet he, of all the marvelous heroes Gilgamesh had fought, Iskandar, Karna, Hercules, and his pure, dignified Saber,  _he_ would be the one to kill him. It shouldn’t be possible! There was no way he could have done it!

And yet, he had. Archer had beaten him. Perhaps he had received some assistance from the homunculus of the King of Knights, but that was irrelevant. Gilgamesh was the King of Heroes. He was supposed to claim victory no matter the odds. He always won.

Until he hadn’t.

He could only pray that Ea would return to the Throne with him and forgive him for his failure to reclaim it--- No! What was he thinking? He would not abandon one of his oldest treasures! He would not leave it to rot in the  _thief’s_ possession! He had done that for far too long already. A worthy opponent Archer may have proven himself to be, he would not allow himself to die before he had saved his—

The echo of a gunshot broke off his train of thought, splitting the air with its thunderous crash.

Archer’s blade froze mid-swing, its jagged white edge mere inches from Gilgamesh’s face. Its master’s steel gray eyes went wide with agony, blood exploding from seemingly every pore on his body.

Enormous tremors rocked the world of endless sword, gigantic crevices opening across the field. Smoke billowed down from the firmament, the titanic gears crumbling from the sky. Someone, the silver-eyed girl perhaps, wailed Archer’s name.

Gilgamesh saw none of that. He heard none of that. He only whirled around, a visage of absolute fury on his face, and stared disbelievingly at Kirei.

In his master’s unbroken left hand, the Thompson Contender was pointed at a nearby false sword, a puff of smoke floating up from the end its barrel.

“What have you done?”

The dying mental world went white before Kirei could answer.

 

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Fuck.

Archer didn’t curse often, but considering he was currently; 1) Experiencing the worst physical pain he had encountered since the fire that forged him, 2) having all his magic circuits and a good chunk of his nervous system ripped apart and then tied back together like a kindergartener’s art project, and 3) dying, he thought he had a little leeway.

He’d been aware of the threat Kirei had posed with it, but after his initial assassination attempt had failed, he had been forced to put all his attention into the battle with Gilgamesh. The King of Heroes wasn’t exactly an opponent you could split your focus against. He’d had to count on the priest assuming that his Reality Marble was just a traditional Noble Phantasm, something that obviously did not play out.

Unlimited Bladeworks failed instantly, the Origin Round tearing through the mystery like wax paper. He’d barely been able to manipulate the return to the real world so that Kirei and Gilgamesh were at the doors of the Relic Vault and his allies were at the bottom of the exit pit.

Honestly though, the worst thing was Ruby’s distraught howl, despair emanating from every instant of the wail.

He turned to face her as best he could while tumbling towards the icy floor, his legs now lacking the nerves to coordinate them. He expected hands to collide with the freezing surface any moment, the projections of Kanshou and Bakuya falling from his grip and fading into nothingness.

A blur dashed through his allies. A warm arm caressed his back and caught him as he fell, keeping him from smacking into the glacier below. Sure, said person’s other hand put another bullet into his stomach, but it wasn’t as if his pain receptors there had been working. Besides, the last time he’d seen the man holding him, he’d thought he’d killed him.

Archer leaned his head back as best he could, staring straight into the tear-filled eyes of his father. The similarity to their first meeting was not lost on him, a prick of nostalgia lighting in the back of his mind, or at least as much nostalgia as was possible for the worst day of one’s life.

But that was irrelevant. Even as Ruby and Jaune rushed over and kneeled at his side, the former frantically whispering feverish words begging him to hang on, his mind was already at work. He’d been unable to kill Gilgamesh and would be dead in a few moments.

So, in those scant few moments, what could he do?

His father was literally right next to him, cradling his quickly fading form. Kirei’s Command Seal had likely been satisfied since Kiritsugu knew he would be dead in moments, so he wouldn’t dodge, either because he didn’t see anything coming or because he desired to join Archer in returning to the throne. He’d never had a better chance to strike him than now.

Unfortunately, his magic circuits were so mangled he couldn’t push enough  _prana_ through them to trace a paperclip. Fortunately, though they’d been vastly depleted, he still had some nerves. And forging those into power was the first trick  _that boy…_

…

…

…

The first trick that Shirou Emiya had ever learned.

He grasped his scant few nerves tight and the hammer of his crumbling inner world smashed the anvil one last time. Pain like a hot iron flooded through his spine, but at this point, he hardly noticed it among the torrent of the rest of his agony. Fortunately, his Rank E Luck came through and his last technique didn’t kill him on the spot, instead granting him the makeshift circuits he needed.

“ _Trace… on…_ ”

Sparks flew above his head and a jagged, ornate dagger appeared above Kiritsugu’s back.

Just as he’d expected, his father didn’t move a muscle when Rule Breaker came down and stabbed his shoulder.

A flash of crimson energy erupted from Kiritsugu’s back, riving and churning as the magical contract with the power to transcend time and space was severed in two. The old man’s dark eyes widened in shock. Kirei’s grunt of bafflement sneaked its way across the cavern and into Archer’s fading eardrums.

Okay, that was one thing taken care of. His father had somehow beaten the odds to survive Gae Bolg and he had beaten the odds to successfully free him. He’d saved him.

Now to help the others save themselves.

As his legs faded into blue sparks, he forced his eyes up to Ruby and Jaune’s lips, reading what he could not hear.

“Jaune, come on! You save him! Use your semblance, you can heal him!”

Ha! Wishfully thinking on Ruby’s part. Jaune’s semblance was useful, but it couldn’t heal the damage done to him. The Origin Round had rendered the pathways that might have been able to channel the energy he donated completely obsolete. The young Arc couldn’t force anything in.

But he could tear something out.

Everything of the Servant’s body up to his waist had evaporated. Forcing willpower into dead and mangled nerves, Archer wrench an arm up and shoved it into Jaune’s hands. The blond boy’s eyes widened, and he gazed at his dying ally in shock.

“Take… it…” Archer croaked. The very same element of Unlimited Bladeworks that had led to his current demise was the same that gave him a chance to continue assisting his allies. His Reality Marble was not a Noble Phantasm; therefore, it was not burdened with the gargantuan history that would prevent Jaune’s semblance from absorbing it. The Arc boy would not be his first choice to receive it, but he’d more than proved that he was not the last either. He’d never be to fully manifest it in the real world, even if it wasn’t crippled, but it would still do him some good.

Jaune gaped at Archer’s arm for a long moment. He shared a glance with Ruby, whose tears fell like a deluge from her silver eyes, eyes so like and unlike Archer’s own, eyes he had such fearful thoughts of. He wished he could be at her side when she found out the truth one way or the other, but this was the best he could do.

That was all he’d ever been able to do.

Jaune gripped Archer’s arm tight. But he also reached out with his other hand and grasped Ruby’s shoulder. Both the huntress and her Servant raised an eyebrow at the boy.

“What can be given can also be taken,” the blond huntsman declared, his blue eyes hard like sapphires, the determination of a just king steeled in their depths. “But what can be taken can also be given.”

Ruby’s eyes widened.

Archer smirked. Saber’s son indeed.

Jaune closed his eyes and his aura blazed white. The blue sparks quickly evaporating from Archer began to flow into his body, granting the energy field a soft crimson shine. It flowed across the knight’s body until it reached his opposite hand, where in turn it surged into Ruby, her aura’s glow matching her cloak.

“Archer, no,” Ruby muttered. “No. Uncle Shirou, please, no. Uncle Shirou!”

Archer shot her the best comforting grin he could. Here she was, the King of Heroes still close, caring about him. She kind like that, caring. A simple soul, really, no hidden agendas or games. She wanted to help people, to save them. To help them save themselves. She had faith and she had hope, and with them she’d reignited his. Despite his earlier worries, he didn’t think he could ever forget her.

After all, his niece was a hero.

He’d done what he could. She’d take care of the rest.

His body dissipated into sapphire sparks, and for the first time in a long time, the Heroic Spirit EMIYA died with a smile on his face.

 

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No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening.

But it had. As sure as Archer’s body had just faded from her grip, it had happened. He was gone. He was dead.

Archer was dead.

Ruby’s head felt like it was splitting in half. Her stomach rolled over and her lunch felt like it was going to come back up. Maybe it was the power that Jaune had transferred into her, but her mind flashed back to the Fall, to Pyrrha’s body broken on the ground. She blamed herself then, believed that cutting her friend out her chains had killed her.

She’d been wrong. It hadn’t been her fault.

It had been his.

It was always him.

Ruby’s hands sputtered and clenched as she turned towards the vault, desperately wishing she still had Crescent Rose to cleave Kirei apart piece by piece.

Fortunately, she wasn’t the only one who wanted the bastard’s head.

There was a blur of crimson and Assassin was in front of Kirei. His former master barely had time to widen his eyes before Assassin moved, his left hand smacking the villain’s Contender out of his grasp while his right brought up his own version of the hand cannon.

A series of golden blades forced him back before he could pull the trigger, however. A moment later, a shimmering portal appeared beneath Kirei and he disappeared into the Gate of Babylon.

Ruby’s fury skyrocketed. A silver tinge encroached on her vision, her quickly evaporating reason barely holding her back for the sake of their allied Servants she might hit.

Gilgamesh frowned at the space where Kirei once stood, a disgruntled and yet oddly pensive look on his face. He turned back to their party, his crimson eyes locking onto something behind Ruby.

“Mom!”

Ruby whirled around at Yang’s anguished cry, her sister only moments out of waking. Her arm was outstretched towards Raven, desperately reaching for the Spring Maiden. It didn’t much matter though, as a shimmering portal materialized beneath the bandit leader and when she made to transform to escape it, a mass of chains exploded from the golden gate and dragged her down into the depths of the storehouse, the breach in reality closing right behind her.

Yang turned on Gilgamesh. “Give her back!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The King of Heroes replied, almost apologetic. “She has stolen my oldest companion, and I will not let it be sullied anymore by remaining in her possession.”

“You bastard!” Mordred howled. “No true king would have a flunky shoot his enemy in the back.”

“Be careful, imitation,” Gilgamesh growled. His gaze wavered and glanced next to Ruby. “Victory is Archer’s this day and that triumph has won your lives. Don’t push your luck.”

“You… you…” Ruby’s hands fully curled into fists. The silver spread across her sight like frost in a winter’s night.

Gilgamesh looked to her and his eyes widened. A portal materialized beneath his feet.

_A blond baby nestled by a soft wind._

_#n%m^ El$^#_

“DIE!!!”

Gilgamesh fell into his gate just as white light consumed Ruby’s vision. She smashed her hands into the sides of her head, her eyelids trying their best to squeeze their charges shut. Her efforts were successful, managing to focus her power into beams so they didn’t wipe out the present Servants.

Unfortunately, they also slammed into the cavern’s ceiling. And with the mountain already heavily compromised by the cascade of hellish battles within its wall, the rockface could hold no more.

The enormous boulders collapsed downwards, the ruins of Haven Academy close behind.


	64. Darkest Night, Darkest Secret

“Come on, Rider!” Nora shouted. “We’ve got to go faster! Who knows if the others are alright!”

For once, Iskandar did not respond, merely cracking the reins of the Gordius Wheel once more, jetting across Mistral on a trail of lightning.

After Hazel’s semblance had ceased affecting him, he’d rushed back to the city as fast as he could. Something had cut off his _prana_ link to Yang, and though he could tell she was not dead, the only thing he could think of that could strain the bond between master and Servant was the space between dimensions. And given there was only one other Servant in the war capable of summoning a Reality Marble, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out who was fighting.

Still, he wouldn’t have been much help if he had arrived, what with being unable to reach the battlefield, so he’d endeavored to assist where he could. The breach in the kingdom’s defensive wall, and the panic its destruction had led to, had caused the fissure to be absolutely swarmed with Grimm.

Hordes of Beowolves, Ursa, and Deathstalkers had charged the opening, baying for the blood of the innocents inside. Several police bullheads fired machine guns down on them from the skies, but they were being quickly overrun by the murder of Nevermores rushing them. Iskandar had flown the Gordius Wheel up to that area and incinerated the facsimile ravens with slashed of sapphire lightning.

Flashes of crimson electricity dealt with the demons on the ground.

Nora and Ren had managed to stem the tide of darkness at the breach, the crumbled wall forming a useful chokepoint. The hammer wielder, in particular, surged around the black creatures with speed comparable to a low-level Servant, scarlet lightning sparking off her with every mighty swing. Bodies littered the ground around her, and though some were fallen humans in police uniforms, most were slowly fading pools of mud.

Still, no matter how many beasts the huntsmen duo crushed, ten more would always rise to replace them. A never-ending tide of black death determined to smother the resolve of the valiant defenders and ravaged the innocents they protected. To halt the horde was impossible, a feat that would take an army at least.

Fortunately, Servants were often said to be equivalent to an army at the very least. And Iskandar lived to challenge the impossible.

He decimated the Nevermores and Griffons soaring through the sky and then descended to obliterate the ground Grimm like an angry god. Lightning flew everywhere as his spatha crackled with Zeus’ Thunder, the tempest annihilating all the darkness in its path.

He landed beside Ren and Nora, both warriors panting hard but with smiles on their faces.

“Thanks, big guy. You’re a life saver.” Nora declared. “I’m not sure how much longer my body could have held out before—oh, there it is.”

The huntress stumbled a few steps before slamming her hammer into the ground and leaning on its long hilt to stay upright. The crimson sparks around her skin crackled into nothingness. Strange.

But Iskandar didn’t have time to worry about that. Not when he still needed to track down Hazel.

“I thought you two were with Archer and Saber,” the Rider inquired. “Where is everyone?”

“The others should be evacuating the Arcs,” Ren told him. “Other than that, we haven’t received any contact from the team at Haven—”

A roar rivaling a volcanic eruption cut off his words, an enormous pillar of silver light blasting out of the top of the far-off Haven Academy. The mountain the school sat upon quickly crumbled inward, the stone nearest the edges shattering into dust. The populace of the city had long evacuated the nearby area, but their screams of terror and shock were so powerful that they reached Iskandar’s ears all the way from the safe zones.

Nora and Ren took a moment to gape at the disastrous landslide. Then, they immediately steeled their eyes and hopped into the Gordius Wheel. Iskandar wasted no time in cracking the reins and jetting towards the ruins of Haven.

They arrived at the site quickly enough, the stone and boulders littering the former foundation higher than even the highest dunes of the desert. Where once the bastion of training and preparation stood, now there was nothing.

Nora stumbled out of the chariot and fell to her knees, an action that seemed only partially driven by her earlier condition. Ren came up and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but his pink eyes were also locked on the rubble before them, wide and empty.

“What… what happened here?” Nora cried, tears welling in her eyes. “Wha… what could have done this? Even a Servant… it wasn’t the right color for Arturia, so what—Ren, look!”

 Ren followed his partner’s finger to a point on the far edge of the mound. Iskandar quickly dashed over and retrieved what the young huntress had spotted.

Two halves of a familiar emerald cane. And something else just beyond, resting between a series of muddied ponds.

Iskandar sighed. He returned and showed the wooden shards to the pair.

Ren gasped. “Oscar… Ozpin…”

Nora put her hands to her mouth. “And… oh, gods… Ruby and Yang… what’ll they…”

Iskandar’s head shot upward. His link with Yang had just reestablished itself.

He rushed to the pair of huntsmen and dove back to the Gordius Wheel. A moment later, a beam of crimson lightning exploded from under the mound of boulders.

When the smoke cleared, a familiar, and in one case surprising, group of people emerged from the dark cavern below, the soft glow of a golden gate and a brilliant desert emanating from beneath them.

“Jaune, Mor-Mor, Blake, everyone!” Nora cheered, stumbling over herself in an attempt to run to them. Despite landing in the dirt, she picked her head up and grinned. “You guys are alright! And you found some new guy!”

Indeed. Iskandar cocked an eyebrow at Assassin’s presence among the party, but given that Yang wasn’t ordering him to slaughter the man who had attacked her and her father, he could guess some sort of truce was in play.

Though if there was, it didn’t seem to be sitting well with Lancer.

“ _You_ ,” The Knight of Fianna growled, more venom lacing his voice than Iskandar had ever heard from the genial man. His hands gripped his cursed spears so tight his knuckles turned white, his stance ensuring that the crimson cloaked man would never be able to reach his master without going through him. “How are you here?”

Blake tread lightly behind her Servant, raising her hand to the back of his shoulder. “Lancer, what’s wrong?”

“Master, stay behind me,” Diarmuid pleaded. “This man is a viper. He is dangerous.”

“And can hear you,” Assassin stated calmly, not turning to face his accuser. “Lancer, you have every right to hate me. But we don’t have time for that, not if we are to make the most of Shirou’s sacrifice.”

“Who?”

“Archer,” Jaune informed him, his shoulders slumped with shock. “Archer’s dead.”

Iskandar shut his eyes for a brief moment out of respect. He and the bowman might not have gotten along, but there was no doubt that he was a warrior worthy of respect. Whatever his Reality Marble was supposed to have done against the King of Heroes, it had apparently not been enough.

When his eyes reopened, he focused on his master and his fallen comrade’s. The sisters were, strangely, not close together, Ruby staring blankly at her clenching hands, as if she no longer recognized them, a long glowing silver scar cutting her face from her right eye to her cheek. Yang stumbled across the other end of cavern opening, her head gazing away from the red hooded huntress, her lilac eyes lost as she made her way to Rider. He didn’t know the whole story, but he suspected the absent bandit leader had something to do with the matter.

Lancer scrunched his eyes, tears welling in them before he squashed them down, his glare remaining firm on Assassin’s back. “Why should we trust you? Archer’s death… it was a travesty, but just because he did whatever he did does not mean you aren’t still an agent of the man who killed him—”

“He’s not,” Ruby declared. When everyone, save Yang, turned to her for explanation, she continued, her voice soft and strained, like a dam struggling to hold back a flood. “Uncle Shirou… the dagger he hit him with was called Rule Breaker. It can sever magical contracts and curses, no matter how powerful. He’s freed from Kirei.”

Lancer’s eyes narrowed. “Even still, we cannot trust this man.”

“We don’t have a choice!” Ruby shouted, the dam bursting as a deluge rushed down from her silver eyes, the long shining scar only accentuated. “Uncle Shirou is dead! The Berserkers are dead! Gilgamesh and Kirei have Raven and the Relic. We need to find Ozpin and Uncle Qrow and get out of here before the Alters—”

“Salem’s forces have left, Ms. Rose,” Iskandar interrupted. “Perhaps they mistook you all being inside Archer’s Reality Marble for having been slain. But they are gone.” He held up the halves of Ozpin’s cane. “And they did not leave empty-handed.”

Save Assassin, everyone’s eyes widened at the wooden shards in his grip, gasps of air rushing past their lips. He supposed even if they knew the wizard had been slain before, the demise of young Oscar would be a bit more shocking.

“That’s… that’s… that’s… Is there a body?” Ruby inquired through whimpering lips. Iskandar shook his head and the girl forced a smile. “Good. That’s good. Well, not good, but he’s probably not dead. If they saw the cane, then they know he’s Ozpin, and that means they know killing him is pointless. They probably just took him to the Grimmlands or something, not good at all, but we can rescue him. We just need to find Uncle Qrow and—”

“Ruby,” Iskandar interrupted again, his jubilant face set in solemnity.

“Rider,” Yang whispered, staring up at him with pleading lilac eyes. “What happened?”

The King of Conquerors couldn’t find it in himself to answer. Instead, he simply pointed to the ruined ponds.

Ruby rushed over, stumbling even as rose petals blurred all around her. When she reached the area, she froze. Her legs collapsed, and she crumbled to her knees.

The others followed, and once more there were gasps of shock all around. Tears exploded from Yang’s eyes and she pressed herself into Iskandar’s chest. He held her as she cried.

Qrow laid atop the grass, his gray dress shirt soaked red with blood from a slashed throat and a thin hole in his heart.

The sun finally set, and night covered Mistral. The kingdom stood, the Grimm halted for now. The innocents would live. But the huntsman who’d protected them, who’d lived his whole life surrounded by misfortune, would never rise again.

Yang, strong and fierce, soaked Iskandar’s mantle in tears. Blake came over and encased her partner is a close hug, but her comfort could only do so much.

Jaune went forward and placed a hand on young Ruby’s shoulder. The spirited huntress had never looked more the sixteen-year-old girl she was. She was still a child, yet the weight of the world had been thrust on her shoulders. And now, she had lost every mentor who had helped her carry it.

Under the light of the shattered moon, Ruby knelt, her broken silver eyes unable to leave her uncle’s corpse.

 

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Oscar gulped as he was marched through the black castle, the three Alters on all sides, the rest of the group behind them, casually strolling through the bowels of hell.

He caught glimpses of Grimm throughout the castle halls, patrols of Beowolves and Ursa and a weird tentacle variant that Ozpin informed him was called a Seer. His partner had told him a great many things, including how the creatures of darkness he’d grown up hearing horror stories about, that had nearly wiped out his entire family, were merely foot soldiers, cannon fodder. The ones surrounding them now were the shock troops.

He’d already seen plenty of proof of Lancer Alter and Weiss Alter’s strength, as well as Caster and Emerald Sustrai. And Rider Alter just looked utterly terrifying, what with the mass of tattoos bleeding black mud and the massive axes sparking with green flames.

But Ozpin insisted that the two most dangerous were the others, the woman in black armor and the huge man in the green vest. The woman he knew was Saber Alter, Jaune’s mom corrupted, and the original owner of Excalibur and Avalon. From everything Oz had told him about those and what he’d seen Jaune and Mordred do with just a fraction of her power… yeah, he was grateful she seemed to be doing her best to ignore him, probably something to do with Ozpin being her old mentor or something.

But the man, he was Hazel Rainart.

He’d had Ozpin repeat the name when he’d said it and then asked again for confirmation. He’d gotten it. The hulk that could control gravity and was constantly glaring at him was…

“Hey!” Oscar called to him. “You’re Gretchen Rainart’s brother, right?”

The man’s glare broke, his eyes rapidly blinking in surprise.

“Be silent, Merlin,” Saber Alter hissed. “You’ll not play any of your mind games here.”

“It’s alright,” Hazel assured her, their pace continuing. “It’s not him. It’s the boy.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The voice is different. Not suited for lying.”

Hazel narrowed his eyes at Oscar. “How do you my sister, boy?”

“I owe her my life,” Oscar explained. “She died saving my family, my parents. I wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for her. She was a huntress. Why the hell are you helping the person who commanded the monsters who killed her?”

“Because she shouldn’t have been,” Hazel growled. “She was just a child and she shouldn’t have been a huntress. But Ozpin was so eager for a savior, he sent her to die. Just like he sends everyone to die.”

“He does so everyone else can—”

“That’s enough!” Saber Alter shouted. “We are here. The Queen will see you now.”

She thrust open an enormous a pair of double doors, and hell froze over. The air was thin and ice cold, the dim violet light barely permitting sight against the long, creeping shadows.

 _“Oscar, thank you for what you were going to say just now,”_ Ozpin spoke, a shiver even in his mental voice. _“But it would be best if I handled this.”_

_‘What do you—’_

Oscar inquiry was cut off when he saw what was at the back of the room. Atop a throne of black stone was demon out of a nightmare, a pale woman in a robe as black as night, eyes black as coal with blazing crimson irises. Her very presence radiated dread, and hate, and _death_. Even as all her minions knelt, Oscar knew instantly who this was. Somehow, all his speculations of the mistress of the Grimm utterly paled against the terrifying demon whose gaze was locked on him.

“ _Ozpin_ ,” she hissed like a vicious serpent. “How nice of you to come by.”

Oscar promptly did as the wizard asked. A flash of green lit his vision and he was in the backseat, a passenger in his own body.

With his face, Ozpin scowled at the monster before them. “Salem.”

 

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Even as Raven Branwen screamed in agony, Kirei found he could not smile.

He _should_ have been smiling. Not only had he been able to revel in Ruby and Kiritsugu’s complete despair when he slew Archer, but the younger Counter Guardian had granted him a magnificent boon before his demise, severing his contract with Assassin. Despite the loss of the Contender, he could not have been more jubilant. Once more, the Mage Killer was his adversary, the shield he was to strike his sword against. And since he would likely form a new contract with Ruby, he would soon be able to battle both the Emiya he’d forged and the one that had inspired him.

It should have been a perfect day, only accentuated by Branwen’s torture.

But it wasn’t. The golden figure hanging over his shoulder ensured that.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Gilgamesh growled, his shining armor repaired just as Kirei’s arm had been, the three remaining Command Seals linked only to the golden king now. The man himself glared hard at his captive, though Kirei could tell at least a fraction of his ire was for the priest.

He was no fool. He had understood the consequences of using the Contender before he’d pulled the trigger. If he was anyone else, perhaps even if Gilgamesh didn’t need his torturer’s expertise, he would have been executed for his trespass. Gilgamesh saw himself as the King of Heroes, the prototype for all other occupants of the Throne the same way his treasury held the ancestors of all their tools. Thus, in his mind at least, he was the legend they all aspired to, meaning he had to provide such a being as was worthy to stand at the top of the world. Part of those standards he’d set for himself was to fight his own battles. By effectively shooting Archer in the back, Kirei had undermined that image.

Perhaps he should try to smooth things over.

He withdrew his Black Keys from the bound Raven Branwen, the bandit sagging in her chains, and turned towards the Servant. “My king, I am sorry if you found my earlier actions displeasing. I only acted as I did to ensure your survival.”

“That doesn’t matter, Kirei,” Gilgamesh hissed back. “Everything dies. To abandon one’s values for another few seconds of life is pathetic and degenerate. Your actions were no better than that of a snake.”

Kirei cocked an eyebrow. “And yet, if you had fallen, what would have become of your lost treasure?”

The King of Heroes narrowed his eyes and stomped away in a huff. “Finish your interrogation, Kirei. Find Ea. Now.”

Kirei sighed. He genuinely liked the King of Heroes, as much as someone like him could like anyone. The man had opened his eyes to the truth of himself and aided him in seeking after his joy. He may have been arrogant, but that arrogance came from a place of honesty. He had existed in the Age of Gods and even then, was practically unchallenged, casting off the rule of the divine and freeing humanity to find their own fate. He believed himself undefeatable because only one had ever even come close.

Until Archer.

Shirou Emiya’s feat was more than the man may have realized in his final moments. He, a being without even their own Noble Phantasm, not even a proper Heroic Spirit, had bested the greatest of them all. It did not matter that his most powerful weapon was absent, it should have been impossible regardless. More than Hercules’ punch, Archer’s victory with false weapons had shattered Gilgamesh’s armor. For the King of Heroes, his entire worldview had been upheaved. And when anyone’s world was in chaos, they would strive towards their core values even harder, hopeful that everything would fall back into place.

It would not be that day, it would not be tomorrow, but Gilgamesh would not forget such a scar on his dignity. Not unless Kirei proved that it had been well worth it.

Unfortunately, Raven was proving as resilient as her partner had all those years ago. No matter how much she screamed, no matter how pleasurable it may have been to his ears, it was never anything useful. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up ending their last lead, and he had no doubt Gilgamesh would kill him for that.

However, another path may have presented itself.

Kirei left Raven in her bonds and held up an elaborate lantern. The Relic of Knowledge glowed dimly in the soft light of the church, reflecting Enkidu’s golden shine. Its aquamarine center rippled like a cloudless sky, reflecting the sea. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he might have doubted that such a tranquil artifact could have brought Yang Xiao-Long to her knees.

Fortunately, he had seen it with his own eyes. And those same eyes allowed his semblance to analyze it. He could not hold the same unshakable confidence in his ability after it was unable to detect Archer’s Reality Marble, but that was one error among countless other uses. He would take care, but he was certain he could still trust its report for the most part.

From what he could tell, the artifact passively observed and stored information throughout history, including even peering into alternate realities. For a human mind to peer into such a maelstrom of data, it would be overloaded in an instant, the brain melted into mush. He didn’t know how Yang managed to survive, but she was very, very lucky. He did not fancy his chances doing the same.

Fortunately, there was an alternative to gambling with his life. He just wasn’t sure Gilgamesh would like it.

 

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“All of you, I must commend you,” Salem praised, removing her gaze from the farm boy at the center of the throne room. “You have all done magnificently.”

Despite the Queen of the Grimm’s jubilant demeanor, Emerald kept her head low to the ground beside Caster. Cinder had often begun a debriefing from a successful mission by extolling what they had done well before dissecting exactly what they should have done better. It had made the thief long for the day when nothing would follow the initial segment, when her mentor would have nothing to criticize her for. It had never come before the elegant woman’s demise, but with the Grail, it was still a possibility.

“It was not as perfect as it could have been,” Weiss whimpered, her usual arrogance evaporated and replaced with apologetic repentance. “Watts was killed, and we didn’t even get the Relic. I take full responsibility for the mission’s failure.”

“My lady, come on,” Lancer Alter nudged. “There wasn’t anything else you could have done.”

“Listen to your Servant, my dear,” Salem concurred, a mournful frown painted on her lips. “Your uncle’s death was tragic, but you avenged him.”

Emerald cocked an eyebrow. Watts was Weiss’ uncle? How? Sure, they were both uppity but other than that there wasn’t too much resemblance.

Weiss herself seemed just as confounded. “Watts was my what?”

“I’m sorry,” Salem professed. “I thought he would have wanted to tell you himself. Alas, he did not get the chance.”

Emerald rolled her eyes. They had been at Haven for days. Watts had had plenty of chances to tell Weiss they were related. Granted, given how the girl was in her current condition, she couldn’t say she blamed the mad scientist.

Salem turned to Rider Alter. “Did he used his Command Seal before he passed?”

“No,” Darius growled. “If he had, I would have slain Iskandar before your minion intervened.”

“I would advise you not to speak of Hazel in such a manner, Rider,” the Queen replied coolly. “His intervention likely saved your life.”

“I would have been glad to die!” Darius roared. “Victory is a boon, but a final battle with Iskandar is all I desire, whether it should end in my death or his!”

“Ensure it is his,” Salem commanded, authority radiating from her dark tongue. “It is important not to lose sight of what drives you, be it vengeance, glory, justice, or love. But the moment you put your desires above my own, they will be lost to you.”

Darius snarled, rising to his feet and drawing his axes. “Is that a threat, witch?”

Saber Alter rose and made to step in between the two, but Salem waved her off. Her calm, ash white hand closed into a fist. “No. It is not a threat. It is simply the truth.”

Rider Alter’s tattoos surged with black mud, the dark sludge permeating over his skin. Emerald and Caster gulped and looked away from the sight. Darius himself hissed in pain, but the emperor lowered himself back to his knees.

“As you command.”

“Good,” Salem declared, releasing her fist. She turned to Hazel, honest concern evident on her visage. “How are you? You let the King of Conquerors live. Did his presence harm you somehow?”

Hazel’s eyes became clouded, lost in thought. “I am fine. There have just been… memories. Memories I haven’t had in an eon. It has been… disorienting, but negligible.”

Salem put a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiled. “If you need any help, simply let me know.”

Emerald knew what was happening even as Hazel lowered his head just an inch more. Salem was very particular with what strategy she used to influence which one. With Weiss and Hazel, she reassured them with sweet words, quieted their inner demons, whether those were insecurity or identity confusion. Meanwhile, with Darius, who would view such reassurances as meaningless platitudes, she reminded him of her iron, indomitable will. It was a rotating approach, but it allowed her to manage her wide menagerie of minions with astounding alacrity.

The Queen stood up straight, a ruthless scowl adorning her lips. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to escape. I’ve been giving you quite a few opportunities.”

Ozpin snorted. “We are in the middle of your world and you have three warriors here who can run faster than I can see. I’m not so foolish as to provoke you.”

“Ha! As clever as always, Ozpin. And as hopelessly foolish.” Salem remarked. “When was the last time we were face to face like this? The TYPE-Mercury affair, correct?”

The what? _‘Caster, do you know what she’s talking about?’_

 _“The TYPE’s are the spirits of planets, master,”_ Medea explained. _“Gaea is one of them. They are powerful beyond imagination, making even the greatest of Servants look like ants in comparison. From what little I’ve gathered from the Queen’s archives, TYPE-Mercury arrived on this planet before it was Remnant and fell asleep.”_

Emerald cocked an eyebrow. _‘The all-powerful spirit of a planet… fell asleep?’_

_“Indeed. Apparently, Ozpin and Salem joined forces quite a while ago to make sure it stayed that way indefinitely.”_

_‘They killed it?’_

_“They… Ha! Master, nothing on this planet is capable of doing that. They simply used a combination of all four Relics to make sure the beast never woke up. After all, though it would slaughter Salem with ease, it would also make sure to annihilate humanity along with her.”_

Emerald gulped. She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Her former ideas of reality were constantly being upended since she first helped attack the Fall Maiden, and what else could be horrible enough to force two eon old mortal enemies to work together.

“I seem to remember you trying to double cross me,” Ozpin mentioned with a frown. “Trying to steal the Relics out from under me before I could return to them to their hiding places.”

“And I seem to remember you switching them out for fakes,” Salem chuckled. “And then I killed you.”

“It was an interesting round of our game to be sure,” Ozpin snipped.

“None of it was interesting,” Salem declared. She finally turned to face the wizard in the farmboy’s body. “It was tedious. Excruciatingly dull, and tiring. Playing a game you know you can’t lose yet the opponent won’t just lay down and let you win. Do you know how much suffering you’ve caused? How much loss and agony you’ve forced on the species you claim to love, because you simply would not let me put them out of their misery? It would have been over in an instant, a single painless instant, long ago had you just stood down.”

Ozpin shrugged. “I believe people can be good. That they deserve the chance to be good. I’m afraid that’s one point we’ll always disagree on, _Angra Mainyu_.”

“ **THAT IS NOT MY NAME!** ”

Emerald leapt back from the scream of absolute _death_ that flooded the air. A riving pitch-black tentacle erupted from beneath Salem’s robes and impaled Ozpin through the shoulder, sending the wizard flying back and slamming him into the black throne.

“My name. Is. Salem.” The Mother of Grimm pronounced, her foe whimpering on the end of her spear. “It is the name I chose, the existence I will define. Not that wretched, weak excuse for a victim, Magus of the Flowers.”

“And yet you’re still trying to wipe out humanity,” Ozpin noted even as he cringed through the pain he was undoubtedly in. “You could be anything, yet you’re allowing yourself to be defined by your old mission.”

Salem chuckled, a harsh, mocking laugh. “My, my, are you trying to save my soul, Ozpin?”

“Why not? I suppose it is the one thing I haven’t tried over the eons,” the wizard confessed. “And I meant what I said, I believe people deserve the chance to be good.”

“The chance to be… Ha!”

A smaller mud limb squirmed out from beneath Salem’s robes. It dangled a small torch with a flickering golden flame. Emerald cocked an eyebrow.

Ozpin on the other hand, paled.

“When you give people the chance to be good, they fail you,” Salem mocked, recalling her tentacle. “Qrow Branwen is dead. Raven Branwen betrayed you. And now your little tin general has sealed your doom in his efforts to save the world. That is why I will remake the world into a place where such fallacies as good and evil do not matter.”

“What do you mean?” Ozpin croaked.

“I’m not going to destroy humanity, Ozpin. At least, not all of it. When I kill Gaea and take her place as the spirit of this world, my essence shall spread across Remnant like the great flood of old. For forty days and forty nights, all living creatures shall be encased in my mud. Most, admittedly, will not survive the process. However, those that do shall no longer be bound by the foolish desire to be good, to bask in the lie of righteousness. They will do what please, with my voice to guide them.”

“They’ll be Alters.” Ozpin surmised.

Salem smirked. “All the World’s Evils shall be All the World.”

Ozpin glared hard, hatred that looked so alien on the boy’s face cutting into the hell beast before him. “You will not win.”

“Oh? And who will stop me? You? You’ve had an eon to do that, and the best you’ve managed is to slow me down. Your huntsmen? No matter how many Grimm they slay, I can make more. Your legends?”

The Queen swept her hand back to gesture to Hazel and Saber Alter. “Your efforts to forge them have only made me stronger. You’ve forgotten, my old enemy. Even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone, darkness shall return. Your guardians are powerless, your monuments to a so-called ‘free world’ have crumbled. There will be no victory through strength.”

Somehow, Ozpin smirked. “But perhaps victory is in the simpler things you’ve long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul.”

“A smaller more honest soul…” The Queen’s gaze, once so vicious, turned contemplative. “It’s true that a simple spark can ignite hope, breathe fire into the hearts of the weary. The ability to derive strength from hope is undoubtedly mankind’s greatest attribute… which is why I will focus all my power to snuff it out. Your faith in humanity, in a way, was not misplaced. When united by a common enemy, they are a noticeable threat. But divided? They will cling to their fleeting hope, turn to your smaller soul, and she will meet the same pitiful fate. This is the beginning of the end, Ozpin. And I can’t wait to watch you burn.”

Emerald’s mind whirled. She’d never been under any illusions that Salem had been plotting anything good for the world at large, but this? At the end of it all, she’d either be dead or an Alter, the latter Salem likely saw as doing her a favor. But personally? She’d rather not be a psycho with literal voices in her head.

“Of course. I don’t have to wait. Caster!”

Emerald’s head shot up as the Queen called for her Servant. Medea carefully rose to her feet. “Yes, your grace?”

“Your Noble Phantasm, if you would.”

Despite the wording, it was clearly not a request. Caster gingerly withdrew Rule Breaker from her robes and held it out by the flat of the blade. Salem eagerly snatched it up, a thin tentacle carrying it into the grip of her hand.

Her other extended black limb drew Ozpin close, holding the wizard out in the air before her. The black sludge wormed up through his shoulder and wrapped around his neck. It tightened, squeezed his windpipe, bit by bit. His aura flashed desperately and crumbled into nothingness.

“I’m sorry, Oscar,” Ozpin gasped. “It seems I can take you no farther.”

Salem grinned. “Goodbye, Ozpin.”

She thrust the dagger into his side.

All at once, an emerald typhoon erupted from the point of impact, blasting Emerald, Caster, and even Weiss Alter back, though Lancer caught her before he went far. Ozpin screamed. Or maybe it was Oscar? Maybe it was someone else, for a thousand, thousand voices seemed to screech their final gasp. In the midst of the green gale, an image of Ozpin appeared, of the Ozpin Emerald had seen back at Beacon. Within an instant, the visage shattered apart, replaced by another man, his robes still the color of a vibrant forest but his hair not white of the elderly headmaster. But that image exploded soon after, only for another image of another man to take his place and be destroyed in turn.

On and on it went for nearly a minute. Emerald thought she recognized one of the men from old paintings of the last King of Vale, but he was gone before she could confirm anything. Not that it really mattered. There must have hundreds, maybe thousands of images, all of them appearing for less than an instant before exploding in a hail of green sparks.

At last, one final mirage manifested. A tall man with shaggy white hair peeking out from a long cloak of the same color. Around his feet, hundreds of pink flower petals materialized and then scattered into the wind.

“Merlin,” Saber Alter muttered, her hand falling to her sword.

She needn’t have bothered. The white cloaked man shot her a mournful, apologetic smile and exploded into a halo of green light.

Salem withdrew her tentacle and the boy slumped to the floor, crumpling to his hands and knees.

“Ozpin, what was that?” the farmboy struggled out. After a few seconds, his eyes widened. “Ozpin? Ozpin? _Oz_? Answer me!”

“He can’t.”

Salem tossed Rule Breaker back to Caster, an insidious grin plastered across the demon’s face. “He’s gone. A curse, no matter how powerful, is just a curse. Just magic. And now he’s gone. He’s gone! He’s finally _gone_! Hahahahahahaha!”

The Mother of Grimm let loose, cackling madly into the night, as tears began to fall from the farmboy’s eyes. Hazel strode over to the boy and pull a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Emerald just watched. She watched as darkness extinguished an eternal light, knowing that it wasn’t going to get any brighter.

_‘Caster.’_

_“Yes, master?”_

_‘How are those escape plans?’_

* * *

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****

The shattered moon barely glowed in the black night sky, its dim light providing only the slightest of illumination.

It felt appropriate to Yang, given recent events.

She sat atop the pile of rubble that had once been Haven Academy, staring absently at the back of Ruby’s knelt form. The red hooded girl, in turn, had not moved since they’d found Uncle Qrow’s body, her blank silver eyes locked on his form, specifically the hole in his heart. The very _thin_ hole.

Yang was not the weapons’ expert her team leader was, but even she knew there had only been one combatant at the school who’d used a stabbing weapon of that little width. For Ruby, who’d taken everyone’s weapons’ measurements the first week of Beacon, there would be no mistaking Myrtenaster’s touch.

Weiss Alter had killed their uncle.

 _Weiss_ had killed their uncle.

No. That was her grief talking. Weiss wasn’t in control of her actions, Salem was controlling her, warping her mind, turning her into a monster. The Weiss that she’d known, her teammate, her _friend_ , would never have done any of this.

But… that Weiss wasn’t in control. If she still existed at all, she was buried underneath mountains of corruption, the mud twisting her into no better than a Grimm. Except with her abilities, she was far more dangerous. If they didn’t find a way to save her… if they couldn’t find a way to save her, then she would go on to murder even more innocent people. She would slaughter kingdoms if the Queen of the Grimm commanded it.

And Qrow… Qrow was her uncle. The uncle who came over with snacks, played video games, told stories, and let her be a _kid_ , something she didn’t get to do all that much after Summer’s death, having to step up to take care of Ruby. He wasn’t around as much as he could have been, but with his semblance, even that was borne out of a desire to keep them safe. He could have run from the fight, followed Raven back to the Tribe, but he’d stayed. He’d stayed with them as much as he could and fought the good fight.

She couldn’t let his death be in vain.

For his sake, for the sake of the innocents she had sworn to protect, and for the sake of her teammate who had been buried in darkness, she knew what she needed to do if she saw Weiss Alter again.

She knew.

She _knew_.

A calming hand came upon her shoulder. She almost jumped up in terror before she caught who it was.

“Your hand is shaking,” Iskandar informed her.

Yang snatched her right hand and quieted its tremors. She closed it into a fist, her Command Seals mocking her with their crimson shine.

“Thanks,” she said. “How is everyone?”

“Lancer and Blake are searching for Ilia and your mother’s disciple,” her Servant informed her. “It’s possible they escaped the collapse, and some bystanders did report having seen a Grimm resembling the Arma Nuckelavee rampaging through the inner city during the battle. Jaune and Saber are attending to their family. Given that flights out of the city have been canceled for obvious reasons, they’ll have a lot to talk about. Ren and Nora are guarding the breach while the police seal it up, make sure no more Grimm seek through. Assassin is probably hiding somewhere around here, given how desperate Lancer was to get away.”

“What was that about?” Yang inquired. From what she’d seen, Diarmuid was a pretty friendly guy. Sure, Assassin had been their enemy, but they all knew that was only because he’d been forced to. “Did something happen between those two in the Fourth Grail War?”

Iskandar shrugged. “Possibly. I don’t know everything that occurred back then, but I never saw Lancer again after the night we all joined forces to deal with our Caster. Whatever happened probably went down that night.”

“Should we be worried he’s probably still here?”

“Not too much. His Independent Action will keep him in this world for a few days, but he will still need a master to truly participate. With Archer’s death and her leftover Command Seal, your sister has an opening. He won’t disturb her vigil.”

“Not really what I was concerned about,” Yang muttered.

Rider sighed. “How are you doing? I can surmise not well, I wouldn’t expect anyone to be alright after today, but I need to hear your thoughts.”

Yang snorted. Her thoughts? “You mean between my uncle getting murdered by my brainwashed teammate, finding out my mother who I’d thought didn’t give a damn about me was actually willing to risk everything for me and then seeing her kidnapped by the guy who murdered my other mother who _I_ told about her, nearly getting my brain turned to mush by an ancient magical artifact, and, oh yeah, my only hope to save both my dad and the world getting shot in the back by the same bastard who put him on death’s door and me in a coma? Plus—”

No. Not that.

She couldn’t… she couldn’t think about that. She didn’t know _what_ to think about that.

Her sudden stop prompted Rider to hum. “I see. This day extracts an even heavier toll than I’d thought.” He rubbed his hand down his face with a sigh. “I know you might not wish to speak more, but if you do—”

“You’re here.” She finished gratefully. “But, how are you? You met Hazel Rainart, didn’t you? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Iskandar frowned. His chiseled face, usually so sure and determined, was mired with a fog of uncertainty. “No. For the first time in a very long time, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Waver was my friend, and my philosophy led him to become that. I’ve always known it was flawed but I never thought… I always thought I could handle the consequences.”

Yang sighed. That was a pretty accurate summary of their situation. After the Fall of Beacon, they hadn’t thought things could have gotten worse. Instead, here they were: no Qrow, no Ozpin, no Archer, her and Iskandar doubting themselves, Jaune and Mordred still dealing with their mommy issues. Heck, it said something when Blake and Lancer were technically in the best shape when they were still recovering from everything that had gone down at the White Fang HQ.

And then there was Ruby.

Dear gods.

Her sister was a simple soul, an honest girl who strove to save everyone she could. She was who the rest of them turned to when the night was darkest. She was their hero, their hope.

And now, all she could do was kneel before their uncle’s corpse.

Yang knew she should go over to her. She should go over to her and… she didn’t know, say something. Help her, put her back together. Somehow, someway. Even if she was spiraling herself, she was the older sister. She needed to take care of Ruby.

But thanks to what she had seen, she didn’t even know that anymore.

She didn’t know anything anymore.

“Are you worried about your mother?” Iskandar asked softly. “You don’t need to worry. She is the King of Heroes’ only lead to his treasure. He will torture her, but in the end, he cannot kill her. Not until she gives him what she wants. And from what little I’ve seen; this war might be over by the time that happens.”

Yang snorted. “Probably. Mom’s a tough old bitch. She’ll keep her mouth shut, if only for Summer’s sake. She won’t let him know where the sword is, and he sure as hell won’t figure it out himself.”

Iskandar cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

Yang stared off at her light sister, her crimson cloak pooling like blood around her legs. The shattered moon showed neither sibling pity as it barely lit their darkest night.

 

* * *

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****

_“Enuma Elish!”_

_Raven grinned widely as she spoke the words, thrusting Gilgamesh’s blade high into the sky. Any moment now, the red, black, and silver winds would erupt from its cylinders and obliterate the Grimmlands in one single stroke. All her hard work over the last year and a half, all the sacrifices, all the sleepless nights, the endless days away from her family, scouring for every scrap of legend or myth, anything that could help her track down and understand the King of Heroes. All of it would be worth it when she made the world safe for her little girl._

_But as the seconds dragged on, and the Sword of Rupture failed to ignite, a growing, cold pit expanded in her stomach. Something was wrong._

_To her side, Summer raised a worried eyebrow. “Um, Rae, why is there no… you know… armageddon of doomy-doom?”_

_“I… I don’t know.” Raven stuttered. She thrust the sword up once more. “Enuma Elish!”_

_Again, nothing._

_She brought the blade down and smacked its side. “What’s wrong? I said the words right, I poured in the power, Knight of Owner is working right or else we would be dead right now! Why isn’t it working?”_

_“ **Th… kin…** ”_

_Raven and Summer whirled around, Lancelot raising his twitching arm to the wonderous blade. “ **Only… the… king…** ”_

_“Only the… what are you talking about, Lancelot?” Raven snapped._

_“Only the king may wield,” Summer whispered. Her hands flew to her head and shook the side of her face. “No, no, no, no.”_

_“Summer, what do you mean?” Raven asked hotly. “Knight of Owner—”_

_“There’s more to some weapons than owning them,” Summer interjected hotly. “My dad told me about some of them. That sheath he used to heal me during the fire was one of them. Gods dammit, Rae. Why didn’t you figure out how to use it before we made him mad?”_

_“I thought I had,” Raven gasped, the blade falling to her side. “I thought I had. I didn’t… I didn’t know. I searched for everything… I’m sorry.”_

_She’d failed. She’d been wrong, and her plan had failed. Yang was still doomed to be Ozpin’s sacrifice. And now she’d sentenced Summer to die. She’d sentence her leader, her partner, her best friend, to die._

_What had she done?_

_Oh gods._

_Suddenly, Summer’s brilliant silver eyes lit with fire. She tore the sword from Raven’s grasp and cradled it in her arms._

_Raven gasped. “What are you—”_

_“Only the king may wield, fine.” Summer hissed. “Let’s see how it feels about doing the job itself.”_

_“What? What do you—Summer no!”_

_Too late. Summer’s aura ignited with a silver glow, the light seeping from her hands into the blade in her grasp. Her semblance smashed into the Sword of Rupture, and the three cylinders began to turn. Wisps of black, red, and silver wind trickled out of the mechanism, even their slight presence enough to push off the huntress’ soul, unyielding in the face of the kindest of compromise, devoted entirely to its king._

_But Summer did not give in. For years, she had sworn to save all she could, to make sure no one would suffer as she had amidst the fire that had taken her family, her home, and all she’d ever known. Her father had trained her to be a hero of justice and even if her team had tempered her, that determination would not yield to anything, even the Star that Split Heaven from Earth._

_The blade would not be bowed. It only kneeled its head to one man, and he did not have silver eyes. However, when the huntress did not cease after several minutes, her stark white aura crackling from the strain, it decided on a different approach._

_Where once the wisps pushed the silver light away, now they invite it in. The cylinders stirred faster and faster, tugging the semblance closer but not allowing the huntress to form a copy of herself as she always had. This was to be an inventor of the sword, not the wielder. Soon enough, the light was coalesced into a small cocoon, slighter even than the body of the blade itself._

_The world flashed white, the hymns of genesis and apocalypse singing in unison throughout all the world._

_Raven lowered the arm that had shielded her eyes from the shine. Said eyes immediately widened as her jaw dropped._

_“Summer, what did you just do?”_

_The white cloaked huntress didn’t respond, her eyes rapidly blinking to clear the inevitable spots from her vision. She was about to speak when a feeble cry pierced the air._

_“Wah! Wah! Waaaahhhh!!!”_

_Summer looked down and her silver eyes widened as her partner’s had._

_Where once the greatest weapon ever forged by gods had been held, now there was only a thin, frail, silver-eyed baby girl._

_“Huh.”_

_“No! Don’t ‘huh’ me!” Raven panicked. “Wha… what… what is that? What happened? You… I thought you were making a blade clone!”_

_“I was,” Summer assured the bandit, her gaze frantically scanning the crying infant in her arms. “This is new. Very, very new.”_

_“You think?”_

_“I’ve never exactly done this on a sword with a mind of its own, let alone a divine construct!” Summer shot back. “How was I supposed to know it’d take control?”_

_Another sharp cry split both women’s ears. Summer started rocking the child in her arms, humming a sweet tune like she did with Yang when she was grumpy._

_Raven paced back and forth, frantically glancing both towards and away from the mystical newborn. “Okay. Okay. This is… this is unexpected. But it’s not bad. It’s actually… good. Like you said, if it won’t work for anyone else, we can just have it activate on its own. It has your silver eyes, so maybe that’ll be some sort of channel, right? So, we just have to wait a bit until it can… grow up a bit?”_

_“Aren’t you just the cutest,” Summer cooed to the baby, the infant’s earlier cries having transformed to pubescent giggling. “Aren’t you just the cutest wittle thing. Yes, you are. Oh, yes you are!”_

_“Summer!” Raven shouted. She tore off a wrap of crimson cloth from her waist and stomped over to her partner, wrapping the newborn in the red bundle. “Would you please stop calling the weapon of mass destruction ‘cute’?”_

_“What should we name her?”_

_Raven blinked dumbly. “What?”_

_“Well, we need to name her.”_

_“We are not naming the weapon of mass destruction!”_

_“Come on, Rae,” Summer begged. “Look at her adorable wittle face.”_

_Raven, against her will, looked at the baby that had once been Ea, the Sword of Rupture, slayer of worlds, terror of gods. Her stubby little arms joyfully reached out towards Summer’s face, her tiny silver eyes alight with laughter. Her cheeks puffed out with chubby flesh that was so adorable she could just pinch her…_

_The bandit leader sighed and looked away. “Fine. Name her. But then we need to figure out what we’re doing with her.”_

_“Hmm…” Summer hummed. She raised her finger to the child, giving it the opportunity to play with the thin limb. However, the cheerful infant paid her no heed, instead chewing on the edge of her red bundle. “How about… Red?”_

_Raven scowled. “Red… what?”_

_“Well… I… sort of made her… so… Red Rose.”_

_“No.”_

_“What? What’s wrong?”_

_“That’s a terrible name.”_

_“It’s fine.”_

_“It really isn’t. If someone in the Tribe was named that, they would be smothered in their sleep.”_

_“Okay, how about Crimson Rose?”_

_“Sounds lethal. I like it.”_

_“Okaaay, Scarlet Rose?”_

_“The other one was fine.”_

_“Rouge Rose?”_

_“Stop listing shades of red. Crimson is fine. Besides, Rouge sounds like some Atlesian twat.”_

_“Ruby Rose?”_

_Raven cocked an eyebrow. “Really? That just sounds like something out of a fairy tale.”_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_“Summer, no.”_

_The white cloaked huntress grinned and hugged the baby close. Despite having known the infant for barely an instant, her silver eyes were seeped in absolute adoration. “Ruby Rose. It has a nice ring to it.”_


	65. The Sword and the Wielder

_It had existed for an eternity. It had seen the hellish world before genesis, reached out into the formless void and divided heaven from earth, given birth to creation as it was, wielded by a god humanity had never known. Even among the lesser deities that now handled its care, it was revered with the greatest of respect and trepidation._

_Which made the current debate quite puzzling._

_“You would have him rule the world in its entirety, to turn back the tide of fate itself,” the wise goddess shouted, her pleas carried on indigent winds. “How can you expect him to do that without our aid?”_

_“We have given him power, two-thirds of his essence is of our own through you, Ninsun,” the Anu of the heavens countered dismissively, dissembling her gales with the barest of thoughts. “He needs no more to remind humanity that they are ours.”_

_“And certainly not that,” Shamash, the glorious sun, whispered fearfully. “That nameless blade from so long ago… it has not allowed itself a wielder since before humanity walked the earth. To think that it would allow its power to be shown in the hands of one tainted with that mongrel blood is impossible.”_

_“I don’t know,” a cow goddess smirked. “That ‘mongrel blood’ does look good on him.”_

_“Silence, Ishtar,” Enlil, the mountain and father of all the gods who remained in heaven proclaimed. “If you do not have anything constructive to add, do not sully this matter with your jests.”_

_The cow pouted. “As you wish.”_

_The mountain faced the original goddess once more, not as hostile as the winds and sun, but nor was he anymore merciful than the armor of his stone. “Ninsun, Shamash’s point is not invalid. What makes you think that even if we bestowed the blade upon him, the cornerstone could unlock its power? It is impossible.”_

_“As is the task we have set before him,” Ninsun protested earnestly. “If he is to be our shepherd over humanity then he will need a mighty crook, for the wolf that stalks him is time itself. Our influence has been fading since the invader’s assault, he cannot restore it unless he is granted the finest of tools to help him. I have taken steps to ensure the blade will take to him. When he was but a babe, I showed it to him—”_

_“You removed it from these heavens!” Anu thundered, primordial lightning cracking the sky. “You dare let such power leave our protection?!”_

_It remembered that night, when the soft winds stole it from its vault and carried it down to the earth it had made. It had been such an unusual occurrence, shattering its dull monotony of storage in the heavens._

_There had been a baby, a boy with yellow hair like gold and wide crimson eyes. Its skin had been thick and bouncy like a cloud given form. Not the divine nature it was accustomed to either, though that was certainly present. No, this infant had been mortal, yet with the nature of an immortal stowed within, both diluted, marred from ever knowing true completion. It could sympathize with that, for it had known isolation since its wielder had passed into nothingness, a casualty of the decay of the Age of Gods, the remaining deities unworthy and frightened, too terrified to truly understand its power._

_In empathy for the boy’s lonely path, it had offered the slightest of purrs, a whine of power to let the babe know that its eternal struggle was one that could be endured._

_It hadn’t expected the radiant smile that had emerged on the child’s lips. Nor the innocent laugh that followed._

_Such a pure sound of joy, of entertainment. It was different even from the wielder’s ancient bellows, always swirling with purpose and conquest. The blade wouldn’t deny that it was curious to see such a being again, the mortal was god and yet not, forever cursed to isolation and yet laughing._

_If the goddess was cowed by Anu’s fury, it would likely never get the chance to reunite with the boy, doomed to be sealed away once more, secluded alone for all time, not a single companion to occupy its empty vault._

_Fortunately, another god stepped forth to sway the discussion._

_“Enlil, regardless of Ninsun’s actions, she does have a point,” spoke Ea, wisest of the gods, who had advised against the great flood that had nearly destroyed all creation. “We have seen for a fact that removing the humans outright will do no good for anyone. This new king we have crafted may be able to turn the tide and bring them back under our control entirely, but he cannot alter the path of fate by himself. He will need power, and there are few, if any, greater than the blade.”_

_“Through Ninsun we have given him our divine essence,” Anu protested. “How much more power does he need to wrangle mere humans?”_

_“When he himself is marred by that same humanity?” Ea countered. The wise god turned back to the mountain. “He has been born with the highest grade of mortal body and knowledge reaching truth, perhaps even surpassing our own. But knowledge won’t be enough to remedy the damage caused by the invader. He will need power.”_

_Enlil frowned. “But the blade…”_

_“If it does not take to him, we lose nothing,” Ea pointed out. “And if by some miracle it does find him to be a worthy wielder, then our keystone shall be truly implacable.”_

_Enlil considered it for several instants, time crawling as the mountain shook with turmoil. At last, when all the stars in the heavens aligned, the deity brought it forward and placed it within Ninsun’s flowing grasp._

_“My lord! This is madness!” Anu protested._

_“We have mixed our essence with that of humanity. We are already on a road of madness,” Enlil proclaimed. “We might as well see it through to the end.”_

_“Do not worry, Anu,” Ea comforted. “We are not so foolish as to leave this wholly to chance. Even if the blade does choose him, the countermeasure should still be more than capable of bringing the boy to heel if necessary.”_

_Anu huffed, the sky shuddering with his breath. “You place far too much faith in that clod of mud.”_

_With that, the lord of the heavens left the meeting, followed suit by the other gods until only two remained._

_“Thank you, Lord Ea,” Ninsun said. “I do not think I could have convinced them without your aid.”_

_“Your gratitude is misplaced, Ninsun,” the wise god replied sternly. “I meant what I said about the countermeasure. Even now, Enkidu watches over your son. If he should prove unfaithful to us, we cannot allow him to rebel, especially not with that blade. He’s dangerous enough as it is.”_

_Ninsun smiled softly, the nameless blade resting gently in her arms, cradled like the golden babe._

_“You don’t have to worry, my lord. With this weapon at his side, I have no doubt my son will ensure the gods’ rule for many eons more.”_

_Ea frowned worriedly. “Let us hope Gilgamesh lives up to your expectations.”_

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Ruby wondered what it felt like to be dead.

With her strange dream behind her, she laid docile on a bed in the old safe house, with Salem’s forces gone there was no reason not to use it, pondering that query. She knew Uncle Shirou was back in the Throne of Heroes, waiting until his next summoning as a Servant or a Counter Guardian, still trapped in eternal despair. Or maybe she’d made enough of an impression to make sure he’d remember her and the answer she’d arrived at. Maybe it would help him more in his next summoning then it had done for them now.

But for Uncle Qrow, her teacher, her mentor, her idol as a huntsman, killed by her brainwashed BFF… what was he feeling like? Where was he? The chant to summon the Servants mentioned a seventh heaven, did that mean there were six others he could have ended up in? Was he… at peace? Or at least getting more alcohol? Ruby had always tried to keep him from drinking but now that he was gone, she couldn’t help but wish she’d let him have just one more drop, one more moment of joy. It wasn’t like it’d killed him in the end. And having a bit of happiness would be better than… than emptiness.

That was what she felt, empty, hollow. Hopeless. Her skin tingled with a thousand pinpricks of agony even as the room’s mirror reflected the soft light of her silver scar.

They’d done everything they could, united together to protect each other, rallied as one. And they had been crushed like ants. It was Beacon all over again except somehow even worse.

A soft knock echoed from her door. She didn’t respond.

“Ruby,” Jaune called worriedly. “Can I come in?”

Once again, she was silent, her eyes blankly staring at the beige wall ahead.

“Um, so I guess the silence is a no. That’s alright. I just wanted to let you know that we found Vernal and Ilia. They’re pretty banged up but they’re alive, so, yay, finally some good news, right? Right?”

“Right. Good news.” Ruby muttered.

She tried to be happy, she really did. Any person who didn’t die was a win for them, but against the weight of the loss of her uncles, she just couldn’t muster the strength to be happy for Vernal or Ilia. In the grand scheme of things, they were just two more people scrambling to survive the war, not much help in actually stopping it. None of them were.

“Right, well… I’m gonna go patch them up. Healing semblance and all,” Jaune stammered. There was a short break of silence before he spoke again. “Ruby, I know what you’re feeling right now must be… well, terrible. But I wanted to let you know that you’re not alone. The rest of us are here to help. You can talk to any of us if—”

“Jaune,” Ruby interrupted sullenly. “I know what you’re going for and… I’m grateful, but I’m not really in the mood for talking.”

“Oh, right. Right. I just mean… if, you know… later…”

“Jaune, is your family, alright?”

“Wha? Oh, yeah. They’re all okay. Well, as okay as can be expected. They’re pretty shaken up from the attack, Jade, Hazel, and Lavender are pretty mad about us keeping Saber Alter from them, but they get it.”

The tiniest of smiles ghosted across Ruby’s face. At least they were okay. At least one thing they had set out to do had worked out. They had saved somebody.

“Amber’s… she’s not mad, I don’t think, but she’s been quiet since it happened.” Jaune continued. “I think she’s processing. She’s strong but she’s only thirteen. She’s just a kid. I mean, we’re all kids, but—”

“Go to them.”

“What?”

“Go to them, Jaune,” Ruby told him. “Grab Mordred and go to them, and just… just spend some time with them. Okay? Before it’s over.”

“Um… okay.” He replied warily. “But what do you mean by ‘over’?”

“Everything,” she whispered. “Be with them before everything is over.”

There was a pregnant pause. The pain across Ruby’s body, the daggers that felt like they were going to burst out of her skin any second, intensified. She clenched her fists, closing her eyes as she tried to shut out her thoughts, trying to draw the agony to the surface. Whatever it was, it was better than the emptiness. The knowledge that all their striving, all their suffering, all of it had been in vain.

“Ruby, it’s not over,” Jaune stated softly. “We still have four Servants—”

“We had six,” Ruby cut him off, the pain giving volume to her voice. “We had the perfect counter to Gilgamesh and the element of surprise against Salem’s forces. We had everything we could have asked for and we still lost.”

“We were caught off guard,” Jaune admitted. “But we still have to fight. If we don’t, we’ll die. The world will die.”

“That’s going to happen no matter what we do,” Ruby growled, her broken silver eyes too shattered to shed any more tears. “There’s no point throwing ourselves into more suffering. We should just… enjoy the time we have left, with the people we love. That’s all we have. That’s all we have left…”

“Ruby…” Jaune muttered. “I know what you’re feeling, after Beacon I wanted to give up, but I didn’t. I didn’t because you gave me hope. You gave all of us hope.”

“I had hope because I was stupid,” Ruby spat. “I thought it was like a storybook, a legend, a fairy tale. That we were going to triumph over evil. I was a naïve child.” She sniffled, her head falling into her hands. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag us… Ruby…”

Something changed in Jaune’s voice. The soft coddling shifted to harsh steel, no longer caring what wails were thrown against it.

“We’re gonna meet up back at the motel in a few hours, figure out what our next move is and all. You should be there.”

“There is nothing—”

“Nothing we can do, you said that already.” Jaune cut her off. “But this war isn’t over. You want to give up, fine. That’s your choice. But Salem and Kirei and Gilgamesh are still out there. You didn’t let me give in when I lost hope and somehow, I don’t think you’ll be any easier on yourself. So stop fooling yourself Crater Face. You’re not out of this yet.”

Ruby didn’t respond. In a few moments, she heard the hard stomp of footsteps marching away. She clenched her fists tight, feeling the pinpricks intensify all over her skin.

“I am the bone of my sword,” she muttered.

The pain flared all at once, her body spasming together into one big curl. She bit the bottom of her lip hard, desperate to keep from crying out. Only her aura kept her from drawing blood, the thousand daggers under her skin running her through like a stuck pig.

Fortunately, it didn’t last. Within a few moments, the agony subsided, the dull pain remaining, but somewhat lessened after the intensified burst. The emptiness, on the other hand, persisted as strong as always. And without the stabbing to distract from it, Ruby could feel it keener than ever.

She didn’t want to feel it. She needed another distraction.

“I assume you have something to say,” she stated. “Unless you just enjoy watching me suffer?”

The air between her bed and the bedside table to the side shimmered. Assassin, Kiritsugu, materialized in a shower of sapphire sparks. He looked as miserable as she felt.

“I don’t,” he replied to her earlier question. “But I assumed you’d want to speak with your friends instead of me.”

Ruby scoffed. “You’re not wrong. But everyone who’s going to come has come, so why not say your piece?”

Her grandfather probably didn’t deserve her rage, he’d been as much a victim of Kirei as she and Archer had, but she just couldn’t help it. She’d needed to lash out at _something_ or she’d explode.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind. He padded over to the bedside table, his dour expression no less glum in the mirror’s reflection. He toyed with the Contender he’d retrieved from Kirei, laying it sideways on the polished desk.

“You haven’t given up,” he stated simply.

Ruby laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “I thought you were eavesdropping. I think I made it pretty clear that I am. If nothing I do is going to matter, then what’s the point in throwing everyone I love into more and more suffering. If I hadn’t jumped into this war, if I’d just stayed on Patch with Archer, we could have kept dad and Yang safe from Kirei, made a few good memories before the end of the world.”

“You would have been miserable.”

Ruby’s eyes snorted. “What are you talking about? You don’t even know me?”

“I know you’re Summer’s daughter.”

“And that’s supposed to mean I’ll give everything for your dream? To being a Hero of Justice?” Ruby mocked. “Hate to break it to you, but Archer and I already had a big fight about this, came to the decision that I wasn’t him or my mom. I thought I’d even found an answer that wasn’t killing someone to save someone else, convinced him and everything, and look how it turned out.”

“Fate does have a habit of making a mockery of the best of intentions,” Kiritsugu admitted cryptically.

“Yeah, so if nothing I do matters, why should I do anything?”

“Because that’s all there is.”

“What?” Ruby whirled to her grandfather, an eyebrow cocked in confusion.

“If nothing we do matters, if there is no salvation to be reached, then all that matters is what we do. Because that’s all there is,” Kiritsugu declared. “I lived nearly my entire life believing that working to be a Hero of Justice as efficiently as possible would ultimately save the world, only to have my wish for a world where heroes mattered turned against me by Angra Mainyu. Yet, in just taking care of a child that needed help, whether it was Shirou or Summer, I was able to find some measure of salvation, even if the foolish ideals of my past still seeped into them both.”

He strode over to the bed and sat down beside Ruby, his face still impassive but his posture mirroring how her father had sat when he’d comforted her over getting teased for her weapons loving. Despite her best efforts, the red hooded huntress found her guard dropping.

Kiritsugu clasped her tingling hands. “I understand the desire to hide away, to claim what happiness you can. But you wouldn’t have asked why you _should_ do anything if you didn’t know you _needed_ to do something. Salem, Kirei, and Gilgamesh are still out there, plotting their schemes. They have made their choice. You have one to make as well. You can let your grief drown you, understandable if not admirable, or, you can fight.”

“And lose,” Ruby muttered.

Kiritsugu shrugged. “Perhaps. Most likely even. But this isn’t about what will happen. It is about what you do.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Ruby shouted, tears somehow erupting from her eyes even as she glared at her grandfather, throwing off his comforting grip. “Uncle Qrow is dead! Uncle Shirou is dead! Professor Ozpin is gone! What? Did you think I had a plan for all this? That I knew what the _hell_ I was doing? I was following their lead! I’m sixteen years old, I don’t— they were the ones with the plan.”

She panted hard, her vision clouded with wetness. This was the first time she’d managed any real emotion since she’d seen Uncle Qrow’s body, when what little had remained of her crumbling world from Archer’s death had collapsed completely and utterly. As much as she’d wanted to help, ultimately, she’d relied on those two and her headmaster for guidance and the actual strategy of the war. Now they were gone, and she didn’t even know where to begin fighting back against their enemies.

Kiritsugu took her outburst without flinching, only a slight frown betraying his despair. After her shouting had concluded, he reclaimed his gentle hold over her hands. “I never met your Uncle Qrow or your professor, and I honestly can’t say I knew the man Shirou became as well as I wish I had. But in my time with Kirei, the person he was always fixated on was you. He didn’t care about Qrow, or Ozpin, or even Shirou. He was focused on you, on what you would do.”

“Because he wants to make me into you,” Ruby dismissed. “He wants me to be some Hero of Justice he can play with.”

“Exactly, he wants to play. Everything he has done, he has done for joy,” Kiritsugu emphasized. “And nothing makes a game more fun than a worthy opponent.”

“Then I guess disappointing him is the only win I’m going to get. He bet on the wrong huntress,” Ruby whimpered. “I’ve lost my Servant and Crescent Rose. The only thing I’ve got left is my silver eyes and they’re literally tearing me apart.”

“If Kirei was wrong, then Shirou was wrong too,” Kiritsugu countered. “He gave you his power, his magecraft. He had faith that you could use it to win this war.”

“I know that!” Ruby snapped. “I’ve been trying to get it to work but it just feels like I’ve got a bunch of swords trying to tear me apart!”

“Really?” Kiritsugu’s brow furrowed. “If the world of blades would be harmful to you, then he never would have risked… unless he knew it wouldn’t be lethal.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“The Reality Marble that Archer passed on to you was mutilated, mauled by the Origin Round,” Kiritsugu explained. “If receiving it as it is causes you as much discomfort as you say, then it’s likely that receiving the complete thing would have killed you. Archer, for whatever reason, believed that you would ultimately be fine, otherwise, he never would have given it to you.”

A ghost of a smile passed Ruby’s lips, a familiar cocky smirk passing through her memory. “That sounds like him. Always looking out for me.”

“Unfortunately, the very thing that enables you to access his arsenal likely limits what you can summon as well. With the damage the mystery sustained, you’ll only be able to call upon those that were farthest from the point of impact, the last few that Archer used, or those your own memory can fill in the gaps for.”

“My memory…” Ruby muttered softly. She plucked her hands from her grandfather’s grip and stared at her open palms. She could feel the pinpricks of agony just waiting to burst from beneath her skin, the blades of Archer’s world revolting against any master but their own. But if her uncle had thought she could handle it…

“You still have one Command Seal, so if you still wish for a Servant, I would be more than happy to lend you my aid,” Kiritsugu declared. “But no matter how many battles I may fight, this is _your_ war, Ruby. Your friends are looking to you for hope, to lead them. Perhaps your enemies may prevail no matter what you do, but if you do nothing the deaths of those who have already tried to stop them will be in vain. Do what you can, whatever that is, because at the end of the day that is all there is. Not heroes, not villains, not who is considered what, just what is done.”

“And if I do the wrong thing?” Ruby asked fearfully. “If I make the wrong choice?”

Kiritsugu looked away and rose to his feet. “Then the world is still doomed. As it will be if you do nothing. But, call it familial bias, I think you’ll make the right choice in the end.”

Ruby gazed down at her pained hands, clasping in open air for a weapon that wasn’t there. The weapon Uncle Qrow had taught her to wield, that Uncle Shirou had taught her to understand. She’d thought that being a hero was her dream, her way of being close to a mother she never knew. She’d thought it was right. Even when she’d been shown the true darkness of the world, she’d thought that if they’d all united, if they’d stood together and supported each other, that no matter the blows they’d inevitably take, they would be able to make it through.

Now she knew that to be a hero was to lose. To suffer and sacrifice and lose everyone you loved. Even now, without Archer, she had no way of both saving her father and saving the world from Salem. And she would have to choose the latter. No matter how much the little girl inside her wanted to save her daddy, she would have to choose everyone else, people she’d never met and never would. Because that was the right thing.

She’d do the right thing. And because of that, she was hollow.

“Assassin… please leave me. I need to… I need to think.”

Kiritsugu gazed upon her sadly, a look of remorse in his eye. He hesitated, almost reaching out a hand of comfort before he stopped himself. “I’ll wait in the foyer.”

He disappeared into spirit form.

Ruby watched her hands for a moment more, wondering if the next instant would be the one when Archer’s faith failed and blades tore her apart from the inside out. Alas, no such mercy came to pass. She lived. Which meant there was so much more she had to deal with.

She hopped off her bed and trudged over to the bedside table. She picked the Contender up into her hands, the weapon that had crippled her father, that had killed her uncle. The weapon made from her grandfather’s soul just as Unlimited Bladeworks belonged to Shirou’s. To cut and to tie, to harm and to ensure that the victim would never heal. It was a cruel weapon, if undeniably effective. If she chose to get up, to trudge on against her enemies despite her emptiness, would this be the depths she would be forced to sink to?

No. She was fooling herself. No one forced her to do anything. She’d asked Archer to modify Crescent Rose specifically so she could use the same kind of weapon, she’d tried to use one on Weiss back at Kuroyuri, and gods help her she wished she had murdered her best friend back then. If she had, Uncle Qrow would still be alive and Weiss… Weiss wouldn’t be Salem’s puppet, brainwashed to commit atrocities with a smile.

All while she was helpless. No matter what she did, no matter what she had, she was helpless.

Ruby roared and slammed the Contender down on the desk, the hand cannon smacking down with a resounding _thunk_. The red hooded huntress snarled forward into the mirror, growling in fury at her silver eyes. Her anti-Servent, super-duper special _useless_ silver eyes! The glowing scar running down her cheek stared back, undeniable proof of her— _Argh!_

Static crashed her vision of her reflection. She threw her hands up to her eyes, desperate to block her sight and stop the buzz that ravaged her mind. Eventually, she lost her balance and cluttered to the floor, panting and rolling about for several minutes until the static finally faded.

Then, she just laid there and… basked. She basked in her helplessness, in her emptiness, in her feeling of total and utter defeat and loss.

And as she did, slowly but surely, her hands closed into fists. She cobbled herself up into a sitting position, her legs crossed over one another. She took a deep breath and let out two simple words.

“Trace on.”

The knives flared, pain scorching through her veins. Her calm breath evaporated into a feral hiss as static and visions of swords and steel and stars flooded her mind. The blades tore and slashed and stabbed at her brain, berating and condemning her.

_Copy._

_Imitation._

_Fake._

It was no coincidence that she caught her scar bursting with silver light.

Still, she pressed on. She clenched her fists, gritted her teeth, and pressed on, her aura screaming crimson with every instant of agony. It howled and raged and roared and demanded peace, demanded something. Something for its endless suffering.

But there was nothing. Just a dying, crippled forge with the barest arsenal of hollow legends strewn about its ravaged halls. A mutilated dream without victory or satisfaction, dark clouds obscuring the sky that might have been.

Might have been wasn’t enough. Dreams weren’t enough. What she might have achieved wasn’t enough. The sky was gone.

But the land was still there. No matter how scarred, no matter how broken, it was still there. Maybe it wasn’t worth anything, but it was still there.

Would she allow the darkness to cover it too?

She found the answer was no. That’s when it came. The tiniest mote, the barest wisp.

At the tip of her knuckle, amidst all the knives ripping out of her flesh, a single crimson spark flashed from her aura.

It wasn’t hope. She was too empty for that.

But it would do.

 

* * *

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****

_The journey to Earth had passed in the most fleeting of moments. The wise goddess had clasped it tightly in her cradle of wind and as such the trip from the heavens had been suitably unremarkable. The destination was even more so._

_Perhaps that was to judge the humans’ city unfairly, but the blade had only known the majesty of the heavens for its entire existence. To see the realm of Earth that it had carved from the nothingness was… underwhelming. The gleaming city of Uruk glimmered brightly in the desert sun, but its shine could hardly match the glow of the gods’ realm._

_Still, the nameless blade could not help but feel… a pull. A calling towards the center of the metropolis, towards the palace. And, it suspected, towards the babe._

_Ninsun floated up to a balcony, the towering height no more an obstacle for the goddess than the open air. She landed upon the decadent stone and smiled, a radiant grin full of love and adoration aimed at a young child who sat atop an opulent throne overlooking the city, his hair as rich as gold and his eyes sparkling like rubies._

_“Gilgamesh. My son.”_

_“My radiant mother.” The boy replied respectfully, a bemused, but loving smile on his face. “You honor me with your presence.”_

_The goddess’ grin heightened, only to dim when she observed the balcony’s scarcity. “Where are your servants? Do they think they may slack in attending their king?”_

_“No, I dismissed them for the day,” the boy king informed her matter of factly. “To gaze upon just you would be a wondrous and dangerous privilege to grant, but the other gods would not wish your bounty to be seen by mortal eyes. I apologize for the lack of the glorious welcome your arrival deserves, but I would not risk my subjects earning such heavenly wrath.”_

_Ninsun’s smile returned. “The king loves his people.” She extended the blade forward. “As if any more proof was needed. You are the only one who could ever be worthy of such power.”_

_The nameless blade watched with curiosity as the king’s eyes came upon it, his ruby pupils widening just the barest fraction. With the gravest reverence, he reached forward and grasped its hilt._

_“Thank you, mother. I am honored.”_

_“So humble,” Ninsun praised. “You speak as if you had not already seen the Sword of Rupture would be yours.”_

_“It was a possibility.” the boy confessed. “The timelines diverged at Lord Ea’s choice. Had he not decided your plan was a worthy one, Lord Anu would have prevailed.”_

_“In how many did he?”_

_“Few. But it was not impossible that this would be one of them.”_

_“You worry too much, my son,” Ninsun chuckled. She ghosted over to the boy and jovially jostled his lustrous hair with a gust of wind. “You are the king of this world, the union of gods and humanity, the truth of this wondrous creation. No matter the trial, you will emerge triumphant.”_

_The boy gazed forlornly at the nameless blade but cracked a smile for his mother. “I shall. And before you ask, father is already in your bedroom.”_

_Ninsun laughed, a haughty yet honest loving noise. “What consideration, my son. I suppose I should not keep him waiting then. Who knows when Lord Enlil will forbid me from seeing him now that you are nearly grown.”_

_The king smiled as his mother flashed away on an amorous wind. After she left however, his gaze became more pensive, subdued. The blade saw him… not dim but focus. Within him was both the radiance of gods and the presence of humanity, these curious creatures that had risen from the world it had made. They were an intriguing if unremarkable bunch all on their own, but this boy… he was different from them. And yet he was not divine, not wholly. He was something all his own, this boy who had sprouted from the babe of back then._

_“I remember our last meeting.” The boy suddenly spoke, as if reading the blade’s own thoughts, or whatever it had in place of them. “I’ve heard from my attendants that most children don’t remember their initial years, but mine are as crisp as my current vision. I was born with knowledge approaching truth, clairvoyance reaching into the eternities of this world. I never cried, because I saw every pain I could suffer, and it was all negligible. After all, even then I knew I was the king, the one that neither man nor god could surpass, the one who sits at the top of all beings. But then… I saw you.”_

_The boy, no, the king’s mouth widened into a grin. “You… were not of this… you saw the world before Genesis. You cleaved heaven and earth from nothingness. My knowledge approaches truth but you… you have seen truth. The truth of all this world and the one that came before. And… when I saw you back then, and even just now, when I knew you were coming… you were the one thing that I’ve found to be far more wonderous in person than my second sight could ever envision. The first thing that was… well, exciting. It’s hard to be entertained when you can see everything that could possibly happen.”_

_A soft purr emanated from the palace. The king smiled and turned his head, yet he remained seated. In response, an adolescent lion, its mane not yet fully grown, padded to the side of the throne, dipping its head over the armrest._

_The king scratched the top of its head and the beast purred, jovially pressing its head into the boy’s chest. The both of them seemed to attain… joy from the act. The nameless blade wasn’t entirely sure why._

_“Thank you, Lord Sidra,” the king said to the lion. He glanced back to the blade. “The High Lord of Snuggles. I have found him to be one of my most competent administrators, but father suggested to give him any greater a rank could create discord.”_

_He gave the beast one more hug but then gently pushed him away. The lion pouted in disappointment but obeyed its master._

_The king stood from his throne and strode to the edge of the balcony, holding the blade over the side to gaze upon the bustling people below._

_“The king creates order. It is the way of things, an inalienable truth of the world. Through unmatched power and the monarch’s will, men shall prosper every day in this land. And the gods above shall reap the bounty of that prosperity, as the king has decreed. That is the way of things. Mine shall be a world of law, my law. For I am both man and god, and so stand above both at the peak of this world. Alone.”_

_The blade noted curiously that there was no glee in the king’s voice as he spoke his last thought, only resignation. If the boy truly could see the future, if he truly faced such isolation as the sword had suspected he would so long ago, then it would not be long before he tired of the world he ruled, that he loved. Then, the matter would go one of two ways: either the boy would abandon his kingship or he would become resentful of the masses who teamed below him, lesser than he could ever be but comforted by their company._

_And since the blade could comprehend no other way to refer to the being before it but ‘the king’, it suspected the latter would be the one to come to pass. It would have been what it chose if it had been beholden to either option after its first wielder faded away._

_The king shook his head and his morose contemplation disappeared, a shining smile blazing across his face. “Enough of that for now. I better get you stored away before someone sees you who the gods would prefer not to.” He waved his hand and a golden portal rippled into the air._

_The blade knew this was coming. It thought the king would make an adequate enough wielder, better than any of its other prospects at least, but it had doubted he would have any foe he would wish to use it against. There were few that truly warranted the Sword of Rupture’s strength, though it liked to take part no matter the opponent. It was a weapon, battle was its purpose, to be wielded alongside its fellows in glorious combat. It was… what the living described as fun. Thus, the gods’ decision to hide it away in a cold, empty vault had been… unsatisfactory._

_The king stepped through the portal, the High Lord of Snuggles obediently waiting outside. But the sight within was not what the blade had expected. It had expected to be sealed away in isolation as it had in the heavens, the fear of its power too great for anything else._

_But the vault, if it could be called that, was far from empty. Titanic shelves of every coin, gem, and conceivable treasure were stacked with barely any room to walk between them. Statues of the finest marble the size of houses littered every aisle. And most beautiful of all, there were weapons. Thousands upon thousands of weapons, swords, axes, spears, bows, arrows, shields, weapons of war designed only for the kill. Companions at last. Even if it would not see battle any time soon, at least it would not be alone._

_The nameless blade hummed with power, singing its joy to the few that would understand its glee._

_The king marched through his storehouse until he came to the very center. There stood a magnificent pedestal, the structure styled after the blade’s own cylinder sections, black with crimson lines._

_“I built this not long after I saw you back then,” the king explained. “I knew then that you were mine, my first treasure and surely my greatest for all my days. And you deserve no less than the best. Though…”_

_The king’s brow scrunched in adorable confusion, the blade held in the air just above the pedestal. “I’ll need something to call you. Nothing of your majesty should remain nameless and unrecognized.”_

_The blade considered the idea. Its original wielder had never bothered to grant it a name, thinking that it was too powerful to be defined by mere words. But, something to be called would grant it some measure of commonality with the others of its kind, one less barrier of isolation. There was no harm._

_The king was not so convinced. “The gods were not too inclined to place you in my possession in the first place. If I make such a move as to name you, it could be seen as disrespectful. And I do love them. Hmm… perhaps, one chosen in their honor, to make them feel like they have played some part. Lord Ea aided mother in this so… what do you think? Ea?”_

_The blade hummed its approval. All the so-called gods who remained in the heavens paled compared to its former wielder, but if the one called Ea had not intervened, it would still be trapped in that cold vault, alone._

_Besides, it would make the name on its own before long._

_The king grinned and set the sword down on the pedestal. “Ea it is then. It is an honor and a pleasure to claim you.”_

* * *

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****

Gilgamesh seethed in fury, pacing back and forth across the weathered wood of the church. The events from Haven swirled through his mind like the great flood of old, tempestuous and without order.

He sullenly attempted to direct his thoughts to the positive. However the task had been done, they had captured the last vile thief that had taken his treasure from him. Even now, he could hear her anguished screams echo up from the basement. He would be lying if he said the symphony did not fill him with some righteous joy. While he had ample skill in inflicting pain, his arsenal was tailored for eliminating his enemies like the scourge they were, not extending their stain on the world. If he took to the interrogation of the thief himself, it would likely end similarly to the execution of her partner, except this time he really would have lost his last lead. Kirei on the other hand was trained in the delicacies of extracting information from the unwilling, something the king himself had admittedly never had cause to do, and thus the task was better left to him to enjoy. It was only a matter of time before he made Branwen sing.

Unfortunately, Gilgamesh didn’t have the same confidence in the priest that he once did. He’d nurtured the man’s awakening to his full potential and during their lengthy time together he’d found him a paramount source of entertainment. There had always been room for improvement, he was not Enkidu after all, but his endless questioning had come closer than many others for he had held an understanding of the King of Heroes that the golden monarch had found far too scarce in his interactions with mongrels.

But then, he had proven himself no better than a snake. If he had been anyone else, Gilgamesh would have annihilated him for what he’d done to Archer. That said, even if the king was willing to… excuse the matter, he found that his faith in Kirei had taken a perhaps irrecoverable blow. Thus, his worry for his treasure intensified.

He halted his pacing and took a deep breath, quieting his mind and loosening the restraints he normally kept so tightly in place, lest he once more lose any capacity to be entertained and be left as nothing but the miserable wretch he was before he met Enkidu. He had unleashed such potential twice before, soon after his treasure had first been stolen and then when he’d needed to learn how to kickstart the last Holy Grail War. The second time it had been quite useful, but the first… it had only shown him ridiculousness, a fallacy beyond asinine.

Even still, he could no longer take such chances. He had to gaze with the Omniscient Omnipotent Star.

“ **Sha Naqba Imuru.** ”

His clairvoyance surged out across space and time, observing everything that might have been and could be, even the absurd nonsense that was simply preposterous. Like the other times he had used it since coming to this world, there was a dark haze clouding many of the possible timelines, obscuring his vision of certain places or people. Such a power was an affront to the king, but he didn’t have time to give it much thought before and he certainly didn’t now. He needed to find his treasure. And no matter how clouded the interloper attempted to make his sight, nothing could fully obscure the light of the Sword of Rupture.

Or maybe it could. After all, like the first time he had searched, the signal of the Sword of Rupture he received merely showed him a child, though this time it was the silver eyed girl with the red hood instead of a babe. Somehow, the shadow manipulating matters was doing the impossible and interfering with his future sight. It likely hoped to make him believe that Summer Rose had used her semblance to turn his treasure into one of her little clones.

Ha! As if Ea could be conquered by the parlor trick of a lowly thief. The cursed interloper might have at least tried to forge a plausible lie.

Although…

He was the King of Heroes, the king of the world. He stood at the peak of creation, his strength and glory equaled by only one in all history. It was his duty to stand glorious for all to behold, to act as a beacon for those few with the will to forge their own renown, to rise above the common masses and stake their own paths as far up the mountain as possible. The other occupants of the throne, though at their heart imitating him, all added their own uniqueness to their quests, either disgustingly like the Assassins or gloriously like the King of Knights or King of Conquerors. They earned their place through themselves.

The faker… _Archer_ … had not. He did not forge his own path, merely copying the efforts of others, his betters, through that infernal reality marble of his. He did not even have his own ideal of heroism, merely reaching for the childish dream of the masses. He should not have been fit to even stand in the king’s presence.

And yet, he had won.

He had done what not even Enkidu, the king’s sole equal, had been able to do and dealt Gilgamesh an unquestionable defeat, not through trickery or deceit, but force of arms, even if those arms had been false. He had reached the peak of the mountain without even forging his own path, merely hopping across the trails others had left. He was a patchwork of superior beings, the king included with all the treasures he had sullied with imitation.

And yet, he had won.

How?

How had he, the king, who had dueled the Chains of Heaven, who had felled Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven, who had cast off the yoke the infernal gods attempted to bind him with and freed humanity from their tyranny, how had he been defeated by such a slothful man, who had not even had the fortitude to forge his own legend?

Gilgamesh had been born with knowledge approaching truth. He was wise, he saw mysteries and knew secret things. But he could not figure out how Archer had done it. Without Enkidu, he alone stood at the top of the world, above all heroes and certainly above all common rabble. He was the king. And yet he had fallen.

That should not have been possible. And yet, it was.

And… if he… if how he had seen himself over the course of millennia had been… somehow… flawed. By extension, could that mean that Ea…

NO!

There were only two things that held Gilgamesh’s absolute faith and confidence. Two entities in all creation that he trusted without restraint. Enkidu and Ea. To lose faith in one would mean that the other was equally as vulnerable, and the king would burn in the deepest pits of hell before he dishonored his friend with such shameful doubt.

Archer had beaten him, without trickery, and that meant the man had earned his victory. He was… a hero. One of the highest renown, somehow, for to have felled the king even without his Sword of Rupture was a feat that challenged the very nature of the world.

But the king could not have matched Enkidu without Ea either.

Archer had earned his name as a hero of the highest echelon, but he was not equal to the king’s friend. Only Gilgamesh was Enkidu’s equal just as only Enkidu was his. Together, they had soothed each other’s isolation at the peak of the world, even if only Gilgamesh had been its ruler.

But if, as he was, Gilgamesh could be felled by Archer, he could no longer stand beside his friend as an equal, for he had shamed him by being defeated by another.

He had to reclaim Ea. Not just to save his treasure from the injuries the thieves must have inflicted upon it, but so that he might stand beside his friend as an equal once more. He had been powerless when he’d lost Enkidu in body, unable to revenge himself on the cursed gods. He would not be so impotent to lose his friend in spirit as well.

The agonized screams from the basement ceased. The stairwell creaked with rising weight, Kirei emerging from their hold, wiping a layer of blood from his hands.

“Well?” Gilgamesh demanded hotly.

Kirei sighed. “She is strong-willed, but she is failing. I can break her, but it may take more time then we have.”

“There is no time limit, Kirei,” Gilgamesh growled. “We have sought to rescue Ea for sixteen years. A few more weeks is of no consequence.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” Kirei replied. “With Berserker and Archer’s deaths, there are five Servants remaining in the war. Assuming that Assassin has joined with Ruby and her allies, that group now controls all but the Caster Servant. And if this Salem is behind the Corrupted Servants we saw at Haven, then they’ll know exactly where to go to find her.”

“The Grimmlands,” Gilgamesh remarked dryly. He remembered the desolate landscape from the last war. The black place was a disgusting blemish on this beautiful world as far as he was concerned, its only worth to serve as the disposable battleground between himself and the Hero of Charity. To think such a hellscape actually had someone who was willing to rule it.

“If I know Ruby how I think I do, she will figure out exactly what she needs to do,” Kirei continued. “That will lead to either her forces emerging triumphant and one of their teams will gain access to the grail, or the Alters will prove too much and Emerald and Caster will do the same, with Salem no doubt holding some influence over the wish.”

“The squabbling of mongrels does not concern me, Kirei,” Gilgamesh declared. “With the thief in our grasp, we no longer require the grail.”

“That may be true,” Kirei conceded. “However, that does not change the fact that the grail is in play. And as they are perfectly aware that any assault on you would be suicidal at best, it is likely that Ruby and Assassin will wish for the deaths of both you and Salem if they obtain the chalice.”

Gilgamesh sneered. If he had known the thief still lived back then, he wouldn’t have bothered putting such a dangerous weapon on the table. With the _prana_ that would be stored up from the dead Servants, not even he would survive if the winner wished for his death. And though he still had Cinder Fall’s body, the Lesser Grail, locked in his treasury, he knew better than most that the artifact would make efforts to circumvent that obstacle. There were ways to activate the chalice with only the Greater Grail.

“Do you suggest I return to Mistral and annihilate the King of Conquerors and his allies?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. “To do so would negate the mercy Archer’s victory won them, Kirei.”

Kirei shook his head. “Killing them would only give the grail to Salem, and though we have no quarrel with her, I doubt she would be satisfied only being the _second_ most powerful being on Remnant. If we are to stave off both parties without either gaining the means to counterattack, Ea will be necessary.”

“I take it you wouldn’t bring this up if you didn’t have a plan, holy man.”

Kirei frowned glumly. “I do. But you’re not going to like it.”

“I have disliked a great many things these last few days,” Gilgamesh declared, glaring hard at his master. “But if it rescues my treasure, I will hear it out.”

Kirei nodded and explained his plan. He was correct. Gilgamesh did not like it at all, raging to the heavens about the indignity and disgust.

But for Ea, his mother’s gift and his oldest treasure, he would do it.


	66. A Shifting Wish

Mordred kept to the side of the room, her brow furrowed in discontent. She probably should have been a bit more involved in the present discussion, but honestly, she couldn’t think of anything she could say to make anything better.

They had returned to the motel after the battle. The building was one of many that had been commandeered for the care of the wounded. Lady Nora, Ren, and the police had kept most of the Grimm out of the city, but with the Arma Nuckelavee already causing havoc inside, it was inevitable that some would slip through. The casualties were much lower than they could have been, but the hospitals, those that had survived anyway, were already full to capacity. Thus, doctors and nurses and anyone that could help were bustling about from room to room to heal as many as they could, Jaune among them with his semblance. Mordred and the rest of the group, bar Ruby and Assassin, had gone out into the kingdom to track down survivors and deal with any straggling Grimm.

Unfortunately, that task had not taken too long, and the Knight of Treachery had returned to her master. Not like she could leave him alone after the mess they just went through. She just wished she didn’t have to join him in present company.

The Arc sisters all sat amongst the unused couches in the parlor, Jaune and Nicholas standing before them, neither looking any more comfortable than Mordred felt. Given they had just related the details surrounding the recent battle, that was understandable.

“So… Archer is dead,” Lavender whispered. “And mom is alive.”

Jaune nodded glumly. “That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“How?” Jade muttered. “You said she was dead. You said that she couldn’t come back.” She and Hazel glared at their brother. “How was she there?”

“And why was she like… like that?” Hazel demanded, frantically gesturing with her arms. It didn’t take a genius to guess that she was referring to father’s corruption.

The corruption that shouldn’t have been possible.

“I don’t know how it works exactly,” Jaune explained. “Salem has a way to turn people and Servants into Alters, dark versions of themselves that serve her. She summoned mom and made her into one.”

“And you didn’t tell us,” Jade pointed out. The twin glared at her father and older sisters. “None of you told us.”

“We didn’t think it would matter,” Nicholas confessed. “We thought we’d be out of the city before anyone by Jaune and Mordred saw her again—”

“But you still should have told us!” Hazel shouted. “We deserved to know.”

“What were we supposed to say?” Coral countered. “Turns out mom is alive, but she’s evil now and tried to kill Jaune? Oh yay, that would have gone over great, no negativity to attract Grimm to the airship at all.”

The younger sisters blinked in shock, their heads recoiling halfway through Coral’s retort.

“Kill… Jaune?” Lavender whimpered. “What… what are you talking about? This is mom we’re talking about. She’d never hurt Jaune, she saved us from Gilgamesh.”

“And she killed Sun,” Jaune declared bluntly. When his siblings’ eyes widened in shock, he pushed forward. “She still loves us, but whatever hold Salem has over her, it’s strong enough to override that. What she did during the battle was just as much about killing Gilgamesh as it was saving us.”

“But… but…”

“Lavender,” Sapphire said firmly. “It is… what it is. We have to accept it or we’ll all be in danger.”

“But isn’t there some way to… I don’t know… uncorrupt her?” Lavender asked desperately. “Is that a thing?”

Jaune opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again a moment after, his eyebrow rising in befuddlement. “I… don’t know.”

“Not likely,” Mordred informed them, regretfully the best authority they had, which really said something about how out of their depth they were. “The only thing we’ve seen that’s been an effective countermeasure to that mud has been Ruby’s eyes. She purged the corruption that trying to infect Nicholas from Avalon.”

“What?” Sable exclaimed. All the girls, save Amber whose distant eyes could only stare at her knees, glared at their father. “When were you going to tell us this?”

Nicholas suddenly found the motel ceiling very interesting.

Lavender sighed and looked back to Mordred. “Okay, but if Ruby’s eyes could save dad, why can’t they save mom?”

“Because a Servant is different from a human,” Coral deduced. She looked to Mordred for confirmation. “Right?”

Mordred nodded. “More than that. Putting aside if Ruby could control her power as precisely as she did with Nicholas, and given they are as lethal to Servants as they are the darkness there is no guarantee of that, it is likely there is no distinction to make between striking the mud or father like there was with him. The mud is infused within every cell of her Saber class shell. She was summoned _as_ Saber Alter. It would take a miracle to revert her to normal, unless you wanted to summon a new copy from the Throne.”

“A miracle…” the sisters sank back into the couch. “So, that means you’ll have to… to kill her?”

Jaune grimaced. “Well… we don’t know for sure. Ruby has Archer’s Reality Marble now. Maybe she can figure out how to make that knife he used to free Assassin?”

“Father swore a knight’s oath to serve Salem,” Mordred reminded him. “Even if that dagger worked, and I don’t know if it could, not even this corrupted father would break his word.”

The King of Knights was a paragon of ideals. Even if this wretched corruption had somehow shifted his principles, Mordred had no doubt they would stand tall against the storm to come.

“What about the grail?”

Mordred’s eyes widened. Her gaze shifted towards the source of the query. “Amber?”

The youngest Arc sister raised her face, her broken eyes alight with epiphany. “You said we’d need a miracle to get mom back to normal. That’s what the grail is supposed to do, right? Miracles?”

“Well… yes…” Mordred stuttered. “It…”

“It could,” Jaune declared, joyous realization spreading across his face. He whirled towards Mordred, his smile beaming. “You said that someone can’t be brought back once their soul moves on without altering time, but mom’s here, she’s in _this_ world. We just need to uncorrupt her and the grail can do that easy! And since we have Avalon…”

“She’ll run roughshod over everyone short of Gilgamesh,” Mordred finished, a note of sadness hiding in her statement. “But… we still need to use the grail on Salem.”

Jaune’s smile fell. “Right… right, what was I thinking? That’s… that’s our duty. We can’t sacrifice the world for mom.” He glumly turned back to his sisters. “I’m sorry, Amber.”

The youngest sister’s hope shattered and her face returned to her knees, her eyes wet as she feverishly held back tears.

Coral’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t there two wishes though? Couldn’t you just use one to kill Salem and one to free mom?”

Mordred’s face immediately froze in terror. She’d hoped that no one would realize that detail. It was true that there were enough wishes to both destroy Salem and purify father…

But not enough to let her incarnate as well.

Jaune cringed. “Well, there are… sort of… but I only control one of them. The wishes go to the winner master _and_ Servant. I get one to use one to destroy Salem and Mordred gets to use the other one for hers.”

Jade cocked an eyebrow. “Wait, but doesn’t that mean that she could—”

“Mordred has her own wish,” Nicholas interrupted. “To be summoned as a Servant requires a desire for the grail, something that she’s wanted for longer than any of us have been alive.”

“Yeah, but…” Hazel began before looking away in shame.

“You want me to forsake my wish so that father can be purified,” Mordred finished, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Would you?” Lavender inquired, a hint of doubt in her query. “I mean… Gilgamesh mentioned… well…”

“Did you kill mom? Originally, I mean?” Coral inquired. Her eyes were narrowed and sharp, but her hostility was measured. “I know he’s a monster, but even you have said he isn’t one to lie.”

“Coral,” Jaune growled, his eyes for once lacking fear of his elder sister. “That’s not important. Mordred has saved my life a dozen times over—”

“Yes.” Mordred declared. “I did.”

All the sisters immediately tensed up, even Sapphire. Mordred couldn’t say she blamed them. But Coral had merely voiced what had been on all their minds. Even if Jaune had tried to diffuse the matter, the doubt would have remained, a shadow stalking all of their conversations. This was better, honest and upfront. She had done what she had done, she had never shied away from that, no matter the regret she may have gained for her past actions.

Her eyes drifted towards Amber, the sister that had never really accepted her, too rattled by her mother’s passing.

“I killed father in our first lives,” Mordred continued. “I had my reasons, reasons that I thought were right at the time. I don’t expect you to care. But… my original wish had lost my interest. If I get the grail, I’ll use it to purify father, you have my word. Whatever it’s worth.”

 The sisters merely stared in shock, so Mordred whirled down the hall. “I’ll join the others for the meeting, master.”

“What?” Jaune muttered. “Mordred? We’re not done here!”

“No offense, but I really think we are. I don’t think my presence is welcome anymore.”

“Mordred,” Amber called.

That got her to pause. Mordred stopped, but couldn’t bring herself to face the others.

“Thank you,” Amber said. “Thank you for wanting to save mom. But that… darkness on her… if it comes down to it… if she tries to… save Jaune. If she tries to hurt him… I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

The sniffles gave away that she was crying. Asking your mother’s murderer to kill her again if she threatened your brother would do that to most people, whether they were thirteen or not. If anything, Mordred found it more impressive that Amber had been able to voice her request. Still…

“I’m his Servant,” she replied. “I’d be pretty terrible at my job if I let him get himself killed.”

Without another delay, she charged down the hall. She would protect Jaune first and foremost, that was her duty. If she needed to kill Saber Alter to do that, she would swing Clarent without hesitation.

But if she claimed the grail before that happened, the chalice only needed six Servants of _prana_ to fulfill most wishes after all, she… she would purify father. Return him to the Arcs. And she would fade back to the Throne, her duty complete. No second life for her. It wasn’t like she didn’t owe King Arthur that much, after she’d ended his first life and everything. She should reunite him with the family he loved.

And more importantly, they loved him. It was plain from the way the Arc sisters talked about him, how they tensed when Mordred confessed her sin. They wanted their missing parent back, even if they’d been frightened by the darkness that had engulfed him.

She’d been deluding herself. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t trying to be King Arthur. Even if she was just trying to be Mordred, the Arcs didn’t want Mordred, they wanted King Arthur. And why shouldn’t they?

She sure as hell wouldn’t have picked herself.

She’d do the right thing, the knightly thing, for once in her two lives. She’d protect Jaune, help save the world, free father from the corruption, and then respectfully bow out. She’d let the Arcs move on, the Grail War, including her, just a bad memory.

But, if she was forced to slay Saber Alter beforehand, to protect Jaune of course, then well, she would have to use her wish to do _something_ …

No! Goddamnit, no! She wasn’t going to be selfish in this, like it or not, she had already lived her life. She would help her siblings because whether or not they hated her now or not, she had grown to care for them in their short time together. She would do what was best for them. She would give them a Grimm free world to live their lives in and, with any luck, would reunite them with their matriarch. And she’d hope that the memories she’d made would be enough to influence her spirit in the Throne into moving on when she was next summoned.

For now, she would do the chivalrous thing, the right thing.

Her fist clenched at her side.

The _right_ thing.

 

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Jaune and Nicholas trudged into a side hall, Mordred having marched off and the girls not exactly appreciating their presence at the current moment. The younger Arc ran his hand through his ragged blond hair.

“That… could have been worse.”

It was a real shame that his sisters being pissed at him for hiding Mordred’s past now qualified as a win. But given the hell they’d just gone through, the fact that hadn’t all summoned their own Servants just to murder him was the best news they’d had in days.

Ruby was still… processing. She’d locked herself up in the safehouse doing gods knew what, and every time he or Blake had gone over to try and help, she’d shooed them away without even opening the door. They’d try to convince Yang to give it a shot, but whenever they’d ask the blonde brawler would get a skittish look in her eyes and look away, muttering that she was sure Ruby just needed time. Jaune wasn’t sure if that was an excuse or not, but given that Qrow had been her uncle too, Raven had been kidnapped, and she had nearly gotten her brain fired by the Relic of Knowledge, he was confident she deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Still, they’d have to set out soon. To where, he had no clue, but staying in Mistral would just let their enemies know where they were. He just wished he wasn’t leaving his family on such bad terms.

He understood their desire to save mom. Heck, he’d been looking for a loophole to save her the entire war, and finally, he’d found it. To say he was elated was an understatement. But he also knew how much Mordred’s wish for Caliburn meant to her, to have the chance to prove herself worthy of all she’d ever dreamed of. He’d forged his way into Beacon for that kind of opportunity. He wouldn’t have pressed the issue if it had only been brought up.

But then Mordred had agreed to it, without a fight. That had been surprising, to say the least.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered.

“With Mordred? Yeah,” his dad agreed. “No one works towards a single goal for that long and then gives it up just like that.”

“Well… maybe it wasn’t just like that,” Jaune mused. “Before we got to Mistral, she tried to use Excalibur and it didn’t work. She was pretty broken up about it. Maybe she gave up on going after Caliburn then?”

“Maybe,” Nicholas replied, though his furrowed brow betrayed his true doubt. He shook his head and placed a comforting hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “How are you doing? After all this?”

“Honestly, could be worse,” he admitted. “I mean, I wish I had more time to make them understand Mordred’s past—”

“Not what I meant,” Nicholas interrupted. “The girls are mad now, but they’ll calm down and forgive the both of us. Mordred too with any luck after I explain everything. I meant with the battle, with what happened to your friends.”

Jaune frowned. He’d been trying to push that aside. What had happened to Archer, to Qrow. He had been furious with both of them at various times, Qrow as a scapegoat after the Fall of Beacon and Archer after what he’d tried to do to Ruby in Unlimited Bladeworks. But, in the end, he’d grown to admire the pair, their endless resolve to protect the innocent and do what needed to be done. They could both be jerks, even at the best of times, but when it came down to it they both put what they believed to be right before any selfish desires. He hadn’t had that same conviction for a long time. Heck, he still didn’t know if he had it.

In times like this, he would usually turn to Ruby. He knew she had her own problems, but she was a lot better at hiding them than him. She projected hope, a faith that they would be able to emerge victorious despite the odds against them. Because of her, though he’d known how bad things could get, he’d had a subconscious belief that they would find the way to save their loved ones who’d been corrupted.

But then his mom had killed Sun, Weiss had killed Qrow, and Archer was shot in the back just as he’d been on the verge of defeating one of their greatest threats. Blake’s determination was split between honoring the comrades she’d lost and resisting a curse they couldn’t remove without Ozpin, Yang was keeping away from her own sister and Ruby…

Ruby was broken. With the exception of Yang, everyone she loved was dead or dying. The spark in her eyes, the fiery spit of hope that let them all blaze forward despite the black odds against them, was gone. Like a match tossed in the sea.

They weren’t allowed to fail. But they had.

They had failed utterly.

So they couldn’t fail again.

“I’ll… I’ll deal,” he said. He flashed an attempt at a smile and a joking shrug. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen now, right?”

“Jaune…”

“I know,” he assured his father. “Everything’s… everything’s shit, but we’ll figure something out. Somehow. We always do. But what you? I mean, if Ruby had been a second slower you would have been an Alter.”

Nicholas paled, his ocean blue eyes freezing to ice. “That… that… I thought I knew what the worst could be, Jaune. I mean, I lost my team, I lost your mother, but that. After all Arturia’s stories, I thought I knew what I was… this Salem…”

“I’m sorry,” Jaune said instantly. He’d never seen his father so terrified. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful—”

“No, it’s fine,” his dad cut in, even as he gulped. “It’s just… I could hear her, Jaune. Salem, Angra Mainyu, All the World’s Evils, whatever, I could hear her. In my head and in my soul. She was whispering, like rot in a tree. Except… it didn’t feel like rot. It felt good. It felt powerful. Like I could do whatever I wanted, could kill whatever I wanted. And the whispers, they kept telling me it was alright, that doing what I wanted was perfectly fine. It was like my conscience had been replaced with a psychopath and I _liked_ it.”

“Oh,” Jaune murmured. He didn’t know how to respond to that. His parents had always been his idols, his bastions of indomitable virtue and strength. Even when he’d argued with them, he’d thought them invincible.

But if Salem could warp his father like that in the sparse time she’d had contact with him, what hell were his mom and Weiss trapped in? His mother would have killed him if Sun hadn’t taken the hit and Weiss had killed Qrow. Assuming they somehow did the impossible and found a way to free them, would they be able to live with what they’d done under the Mother of Grimm’s command?

“Jaune, you have to stop her.”

“Um, yeah,” Jaune cocked an eyebrow. “I know that, dad.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Nicholas gasped, panic in his eyes, his grip on Jaune’s shoulder involuntarily tightening. He lifted Excalibur and Avalon from his belt and shoved them into his son’s arms. “You need these. You need everything you can get. You have to stop her!”

“Dad, calm down!” Jaune ordered, gripping his father’s arm and wrench it off. For a moment, they both stood there, petrified, panting for breath. He gingerly set Nicholas’ arm down and put a comforting hand on his shoulders. “We already know that Salem’s going to destroy the world.”

“That’s just it. That’s only half her plan. The other half, it’s far more terrifying.” Nicholas proclaimed. “All the World’s Evils will be all the world.”

Jaune raised his eyebrow, a pit of ice settling in his stomach. “What does that mean?”

 

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“So, Salem plans to wipe out most of the world and turn whoever is left into Alters?” Blake growled. “Because of course she does.”

“A vile plan only the blackest of minds could conceive,” Lancer concurred.

“True, but there is an ingenuity to it,” Assassin remarked, though his scowl made it plain he despised the news as much as the rest of them. “Angra Mainyu was born of all humanity’s evils. What better revenge than to return those evils to humanity?”

Lancer’s eyes narrowed as soon as Assassin spoke. His spears were dispersed at the moment, but his fists clenched as if he would very much like to draw them. Ilia shuffled over from Vernal’s kneeling form, Jaune’s hands aglow as he healed the bandit as he had Ilia. The chameleon faunus placed a gentle hand over the knight’s knuckles. When he still didn’t release his tension, Ilia looked to Blake.

 _‘Lancer,’_ Blake asked through their link. _‘Are you okay?’_

Diarmuid blinked and glanced at her. He caught sight of Ilia’s worried expression and sighed. _“I’m alright, master. Just, on edge with him here, that’s all.”_

Blake glanced over Assassin. After they’d escaped the rubble of Haven, she’d been too busy helping the cleanup and searching for Ilia and Vernal to pay the man much mind. She only knew what Ruby and Yang had told her, the man was Archer and Summer Rose’s father, the creator of the Origin Rounds and the Contender, and apparently, one of the deadliest men to ever walk the face of Remnant.

What she couldn’t figure out was why Lancer hated him so much. It wasn’t disgust like he’d shown at Mordred back at Oniyuri, or the rage that could take over even the best warrior in battle. He utterly _despised_ Kiritsugu Emiya with every fiber of his being, and considering she’d barely seen anything even phase the Knight of the Fianna, that was troubling. Had they met during the Fourth Holy Grail War? What had happened between them?

No matter. Lancer must have had a good reason, so she’d have to keep her guard up around the Servant of the Shadows. She wouldn’t let him hurt Diarmuid again.

“Terrible as Salem’s end goal may be, it does not change our own objective,” Iskandar observed, rubbing his beard in thought. He and Yang stood close to Vernal, guarding the bandit as Jaune healed her. According to Ilia’s account, the thief had nearly died saving her and ensuring the Arma Nuckelavee went down before it could hurt anyone. If they’d found the two of them any later, she would have surely perished. Still, she’d been in on Raven’s plan to betray them, so they couldn’t take her too lightly. Though, Yang seemed to glance back at her concernedly from time to time.

Blake was worried about her partner. Her uncle had been murdered by their mind-controlled teammate and her mother had been kidnapped by a monster that she had alerted to her. That alone would have been enough to rattle anyone, but what concerned Blake the most was that over the last few days, despite her warnings that her and Jaune’s efforts were proving ineffective, Yang had made no effort to comfort Ruby. In fact, whenever the topic was brought up, her violet eyes would suddenly become skittish and unsure and she’d insist that her sister just needed time to process.

That wasn’t Yang. She hadn’t let Blake wallow in her crusade against the White Fang and whatever instinct had driven that intervention would be ten times stronger for her baby sister. Yang would never leave Ruby to suffer alone, no matter the agony she herself was in. Yet, she’d barely left Rider’s side since the battle.

“Who gives a damn about whether Salem wants to kill us all or mind control us,” Vernal hissed. Her aura flared as Jaune completed her healing and the bandit staggered to her feet, Ren and Nora moving forward to protect their team leader if necessary. Though given there were four Servants present, that might have been paranoid, especially since the bandit didn’t seem to be planning to run, locking her gaze on Mordred. “That safe house I told you about, the one where my men were, did you—”

“We already checked it out,” Mordred briskly replied. “The only things we could find were bodies and signs of Grimm, probably some of the ones that got past the defenses.”

Vernal growled, her fists clenching at her sides. “What about the scroll number—”

“We called,” Ilia gently informed her. “I’m sorry, Vernal. There was no answer. Either your tribe abandoned the scroll or—”

“They’re dead,” the bandit surmised, her eyes going blank. “That scroll was our way of keeping contact. They would make sure someone kept it. Unless there was no one around to…”

Vernal paled, her entire body going limp. If Blake didn’t know otherwise, she would have never identified her as the bandit who’d cockily taunted her back at Oniyuri. Granted, she had just learned that her tribe had been annihilated.

“They’re gone,” she muttered, her voice dripping with despair. “They’re all gone. I’m the only one left.”

Blake felt pity well in her heart. As much as the bandit had been their enemy, as much as she’d likely killed scores of innocent people with her tribe, to see her so reduced as the rest of them had been by recent events.

Vernal’s hands closed into fists, her gaze hardening. “You said Gilgamesh and this Kirei guy took Raven? Where?”

“Kirei constructed a church for them in southern Vale,” Kiritsugu revealed. “Though since they know I am free, it’s possible they’ve left.”

“Not if Goldie’s as arrogant as Raven always said he was,” Vernal growled. She looked around to them all. “Well? What are we waiting for? Let’s go after him!”

“And do what?” Ren asked.

Vernal whirled on him. “What do you think? Kill him and save Raven!”

Nora narrowed her eyes and stepped between the bandit and her partner. “Hey, you just helped stab us in the back. You don’t get to order us around.”

“Like Gilgamesh isn’t already a threat to you all?” Vernal shouted. She whirled around to Yang. “Are you really going to let him torture your mother to death?”

Yang flinched. “I… I…”

“Yang doesn’t owe Raven anything,” Blake declared, drawing Vernal’s glare away from her partner. “She abandoned her.”

“She did that to—”

“Enough!” Iskandar called, silencing everyone. The King of Conquerors sighed and looked over everyone. “Leaving aside whether we should attempt to save Raven Branwen, we are not capable of doing so. Archer was the only one of us capable of fighting on par with the King of Heroes without some outside circumstance. If we went to this church, we would only go to our deaths.”

“You stand a better chance now then you will if he gets it out of her,” Vernal pointed out. Her hand trembled, though from the mighty heroes surrounding her or the weapons she discussed was unknown. “If he breaks her and gets that weapon back, nothing in this world will be able to stop him.”

Everyone looked away. As much of a jerk as the bandit was, they all knew the consequences if Gilgamesh retrieved his Sword of Rupture. They could barely scratch him as it was, but if he reclaimed the power to destroy the world…

“So, what do we do?” Jaune asked. “Head back to Vale and take our chances with Gilgamesh?”

“Gilgamesh doesn’t matter right now.”

The group whirled to the origin of the voice. Yang flinched at the sight, but Blake couldn’t help the grin that came to her face. “Ruby!”

Her team leader sent her a slight nod and marched forward into the circle, the Contender strapped on her belt.

“What do you mean ‘Gilgamesh doesn’t matter’?” Vernal hissed, stomping forward to a few inches before Ruby’s face. “He annihilated the Berserkers and, from what I hear, took out your Archer just as easily.”

Ruby didn’t flinch from the bandit’s accusation. She didn’t even show any signs of anger, like she might have a few days ago. She simply stared dispassionately at the older girl, like a parent weathering the tantrum of a belligerent child.

Blake’s smile faded at that realization, especially as she noticed that she was not the only one looking upon her team leader in confusion and worry. While she was thrilled to see Ruby finally come out of her room, the red hooded girl before her was… cold. Gone was the hope and optimism they had all clung to, their guiding light against the dark tempest before them. Now, her silver eyes were sunken, her black and red ragged and messy, with a few hairs even having gone stark white. Her cheeks were stark and slanted, her glowing silver scar slinking down from her eyes.

Ruby was back. But she was different. Hollow.

“Gilgamesh doesn’t matter because Kirei doesn’t matter,” Ruby declared. “This war is between the seven masters chosen by the grail and Kirei has lost the Servant it provided him. And since Gilgamesh can’t claim the grail, that means they’re out of the running. Meaning they don’t matter.”

“But Raven—”

“Will still get killed whether or not we go die on her doorstep,” Ruby cut her off. She whirled around dismissively. She locked eyes with Assassin, the two exchanging a respectful glance and then nodding. “We can form a contract before we leave for Atlas.”

A minuscule smile ghosted across Kiritsugu’s lips. “As you wish, master.”

“Wait, back up a minute,” Nora exclaimed. “Atlas? Why the heck are we going there? I mean, I get no going to die against Gilgamesh, but shouldn’t we go and rescue Oscar and Ozpin then?”

“We are. In addition to a few other matters,” Ruby replied coolly. “Killing Caster most importantly. With Assassin and Lancer under our control, she’s the only one left we need to kill before you all,” she pointed to Mordred, Lancer, and Iskandar, “can have your fight to the death for the grail. Both she and Oscar will be in the Grimmlands by now.”

“Okay,” Nora nodded slowly. “So why aren’t we going there?”

“Because the Grimmlands are Salem’s home turf, her reality marble,” Jaune explained, a frown painted across his face.

Blake cringed. “We’ll be charging right into her stronghold. The Grimm… there’ll be thousands of them.”

“Tens of thousands, probably even more. Still not enough to be a threat to Servants but…” Iskandar observed. He overlooked the masters with a worrisome frown. “If we’re fighting the Alters, we wouldn’t be able to protect the rest of you. And despite your skill, you’d be overwhelmed by numbers alone in time.”

“Ozpin mentioned something similar to Lady Sienna,” Lancer recalled. “He sent her to gather the White Fang on Menagerie for that same task.”

“I can send them a message through the White Fang’s communication network,” Ilia revealed. “It might take a few days to reach them, but we can have them meet us at a rendezvous point.”

“Do that,” Ruby commanded. “It’ll give them time to mobilize by the time we get to Atlas.”

“Again, why are we going to Atlas?” Nora deadpanned. “If we have the White Fang to help us, why do we need to waste time on a detour? We need to rescue cute boy Oz!”

“Because we need more,” Ruby coldly proclaimed. “The White Fang, for all the trouble they’ve caused, is only a terrorist organization. They may have some numbers, but their specialty is guerilla tactics, not open warfare. We’ll be walking into the biggest battle Remnant’s ever seen. We need an army. And Atlas has the most powerful on the planet.”

“That we’ll send to die,” Jaune pointed out. “Ruby, we signed up for this war, they didn’t. You’re talking about sending countless people to die.”

“There’s no such thing as countless people,” Kiritsugu said matter-of-factly. “Just however many corpses you’re unwilling to look back on.”

“We don’t ask people to die for us,” Jaune argued.

“Then they’ll die for Salem.”

“Hey!” Mordred shouted. “How about you shut up, Assassin! Until a few days ago, you were the enemy.”

“If I had been your enemy Saber, you would already be dead.”

“What? Say again, you wretch!”

“I would have thought bullet hole in your armor was enough of a reminder. If you can’t beat me, what chance do you stand against your father?”

Gae Dearg flashed in Lancer’s grip and its crimson tip jetted under Assassin’s throat.

“Lancer!” Blake shouted.

Diarmuid didn’t hear her, his eyes blazing with hatred for the Mage Killer, only his years of military training keeping him from lashing out and slashing Kiritsugu’s throat.

“Don’t speak of the King of Knights, bastard. Not after what you did.”

Assassin rolled his eyes. “I already told you that you have every right to hate me, Lancer. But please try not to let your rage get in the way of our mission.”

“Enough!” Ruby proclaimed. “Saber, Lancer, calm down. Assassin, stop pissing them off. They’ve got enough reasons to kill you as is.”

Mordred growled, but hissed to the side. Kiritsugu bowed his head as much as he could without tripping into Lancer’s blade.

“Lancer,” Blake ordered.

The moment the order left Blake’s mouth, Diarmuid dutifully retracted his blade. But the snarl on his lips didn’t abate.

“Thank you, Blake,” Ruby said. She turned to Jaune. “You’re right, Jaune. We’ll be asking those men to die for us. But if we don’t, then everybody will die. At least this way, it’s only people who signed up for this.”

“Ruby, they didn’t sign up for a Holy Grail War.”

“They signed up to protect people, just like we did,” Ruby pointed out. “They may never have expected magic and monsters and literal pure evil, but that’s the job. We don’t know what we’re fighting, we just have to make sure it never reaches innocent people. It’s not glamorous or romantic but it needs to be done. And yes, sometimes that means recruiting people to die. Because we’ve got less than no chance already without dealing with cannon fodder.”

Jaune opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to argue, but whether through the argument’s strength or shock from the fact that _Ruby_ was the one making it, he shut it and bowed his head in resignation. Blake looked on at her leader with worry and caught Yang doing the same at Iskandar’s side, the King of Conquerors frowning at the scene.

Ren stepped forward. “Atlas’ borders are closed. Without Qrow or Professor Ozpin, how are we going to get to General Ironwood?”

Ruby smiled, but it wasn’t _Ruby’s_ smile. It was cocky and victorious, a sign that she’d figured out exactly how to pick her enemy apart. It was a smirk.

It was Archer’s smirk.

And far more terrifyingly, Kirei’s.

Ruby turned back to Vernal, the bandit taking a wary step back.

“You were Raven’s right hand, weren’t you?” Ruby inquired. “Don’t suppose she ever told you her code from when she worked with Ozpin?”

Vernal cocked an eyebrow. “She did. But that was from a long time ago. Why would Ironwood come down when she called?”

“Why would he come down when the elite huntress leader of the Branwen Tribe who, as far as he knows, is also in control of one of the best Servants in the Throne calls? When he knows that she would rather jump naked into a pack of Beowolves than let anyone, especially a member of Ozpin’s inner circle, know where she is?” Ruby elaborated. She shrugged. “Curiosity at the very least. And probably a desire to keep her from letting Lancelot loose on his men. In the end, it doesn’t matter how we make contact with him, just that we do. We can let him know the situation from there.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Vernal admitted. “Better question, why would I help you?”

“Do you want the world to end?”

“No.”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions,” Ruby proclaimed. “Now that Salem knows most of the Servants are in an alliance against her, she’s going to keep Caster in the Grimmlands while the Alters come out to pick us off one by one. If we don’t get Ironwood’s help, we stand no chance at an invasion, therefore we stand no chance at all and the world ends. So stop trying pretending this isn’t your only option, you moron.”

Blake’s shock was mirrored on Vernal’s face, the bandit blinking in shock and just a bit of terror at the tiny girl before her. Then, her mouth morphed into a vicious smile.

“If you get the grail, is your Servant going to wish for goldie’s head to go pop?”

Ruby shrugged. “Unless you know a better way of killing him.”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Then we have a plan. Yang? Rider?” Ruby turned to her sister, who jumped like a startled animal. “The Gordius Wheel isn’t big enough to get us all to Atlas. See if you can use your Charisma Skill to get us a bullhead.”

“Um… yeah, on it,” Yang stuttered.

“We will have our transportation within the hour,” Iskandar cheered, a firm hand guiding Yang away.

Ruby whirled around to the rest of them. “Assassin, we have a contract to make. Everyone else, finish whatever you need to. We don’t have time to lose.”

Most everyone nodded numbly, staring at Ruby with confoundment, concern, or, in Vernal’s case, respect.

Blake, unfortunately, found herself in a mix of the former two, with one more question on her mind.

“Ruby? What about Weiss?”

The red hooded girl froze. Just for an instant, her hollow eyes, shone dimly. But not with hope, with something else, something darker.

Blake had a bad habit of seeing people as the personification of a single word. Yang was ‘strength’, Sun had been ‘earnestness’, and Weiss, the real Weiss, had been ‘defiance’. For as long as she had known her, Blake had considered Ruby to be ‘purity’. She was not unaware of the horrors and ugliness of the world, she merely refused to let it stain her, to trudge forward in hopes of making the reality of the world what she believed it could be.

But now, Ruby had finally cracked, pure no longer. And it wasn’t even like Adam, who she’d seen fall further and further before he’d miraculously restored himself. Ruby still believed the same things were right and wrong.

She just didn’t think they could win. She didn’t think any of their efforts, going to Atlas, invading the Grimmlands, she didn’t think any of them would work. She was just going through the motions. Empty.

But Weiss, and the all the furiously conflicting emotions surrounding her, invoked something in her, some shred of emotion.

Blake just wasn’t sure what it was.

“We’ll deal with Weiss when the time comes,” Ruby whispered. “Go on Blake. Make sure Ilia contacts Sienna. We’ll need everyone to have a chance at this.”

“Yeah,” Blake murmured, turning her back. “A chance.”

They didn’t have a chance. If they waited, either Gilgamesh or Salem would pick them off. If they took the offensive and invaded the Grimmlands, they would be annihilated. The only thing they could decide was how they were going to die.

And as much as she wanted to, Blake really couldn’t argue with Ruby’s decision.


	67. In the Heart of Evil

_Hazel trudged through the courtyard of Beacon, his head swiveling, hoping to find a map of some kind. He needed to find the headmaster immediately._

_It had been a long, terrifying road that brought him to the school. One that began nearly a year previously, when he’d returned to the cabin only to find Gretchen gone with only a note promising her safety to soothe his mind. Not that it did. After all, he knew better than most that no matter how much you thought you’d be safe in the world, there were always unexpected dangers._

_He’d fearfully recalled their argument, her desperation to join a huntsman academy, to throw herself into a fight that could not be won._

_“You’ve protected me for years, big bro! Are you saying I should just stand by and do nothing while other people are getting slaughtered?”_

_“You are not trained.”_

_“That’s what the school is for!”_

_“Even that requires a minimum level of preparation that you don’t have. Please, I’ve told you what I have of the Queen. You have to live, Gretchen. Please.”_

_That has seemed to calm her down. They’d hugged, eaten dinner, read a book, and then went to bed._

_And the next day, she’d left._

_He’d rushed to Vacuo first. Gretchen was always wily, so she’d know he’d check Beacon first, so she’d head to Shade, since that was the next closest and would have the laxest entrance requirements seeing as it was, well, Vacuo. Unfortunately, he had overthought matters and as such, it had taken him nearly a year to arrive at Beacon._

_Now if he could only figure out how to navigate the school. He had vague recollections of another academy he’d attended, one with a clocktower of sorts, but he didn’t recall any foolproof method of finding the headmaster’s office. As it was, he looked like a chicken with his head cut off._

_“Excuse me, sir. Are you okay?”_

_Hazel turned to the source of the query, a woman behind him. She was fairly tall, her blond hair slinking halfway down her back. She wore loose black robes, the sleeves easily large enough to hide a weapon. Indeed, the proud way she held herself marked her as a warrior, a huntress most likely, her emerald eyes shining with concern._

_Though the massive stockpile of magic radiating off her body was also a sizable clue._

_“I’m fine,” he assured the woman. “I’m just lost. I’m looking for the headmaster’s office.”_

_“Oz? I can help you with that,” the woman informed him with a smile. “He’s in a meeting with my sister right now, but I’m sure he’ll be eager to help. He always is.”_

_Something picked the back of Hazel’s mind at the mention of this ‘Oz’, the Queen’s whispers intensifying in a surge of black hatred, but the idea of being so close to finding Gretchen pushed any worries to the back of his mind. He smiled. “Thank you.”_

_“No problem.” The woman flashed a cocky grin and held out a hand of greeting. “Elphaba Goodwitch. My friends call me Ellie.”_

_He shook the offered hand. “Hazel Rainart.”_

_Elphaba’s smile immediately faded. “Rainart? You’re… oh. You’re Gretchen’s brother, aren’t you?”_

_Hazel raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Do you know her?”_

_“I did.”_

_Hazel did not like the past tense she used. The whispers wormed through his ears, wrenching his darkest doubts to the surface. He pushed back as best he could, as he had for an eon. Obviously, Gretchen had gotten herself in trouble, but that didn’t mean it was anything terrible. Maybe she had already been expelled, she always had been incorrigible. They’d have a good laugh about it on the way home._

_A good laugh…_

_“Come on,” Elphaba said. “Oz… The headmaster is a lot better at these things than I am.”_

_The woman led him out of the courtyard and up the winding corridors of the emerald tower. Eventually, they reached a final elevator, its doors swiftly rushing open._

_As the pair ascended to the top of the building, Hazel’s body began to twitch, the witch’s riving tendrils shooting a sense of impending danger through his psyche. He batted aside its urge to slaughter everyone in the school, but he couldn’t deny that he sensed power in the air as well. At first, he’d thought it was just the magic he felt from the huntress, but there was something else emanating from the top of the tower, something… familiar._

_The elevator opened up and Hazel and Elphaba stepped out. The office they’d stepped was a wide circle, decorated with massive clockwork gears and varying shades of green throughout. At the center was a black desk with one chair behind it and two before it. Of the three, two were occupied. The one in front held a woman similar to Elphaba, though her blond hair was done up in a prim and practical bun while her attire was form fitting and white._

_But behind the desk was the more interesting figure to Hazel. What he looked like meant little, for to the King of Aura’s eyes he would always be a playful man in a white robe with pink flower petals pooling around his feet._

_The wizard._

_“Sir, I just don’t know how to control them,” the woman declared frantically. “First the kilt incident, now this! I fear Team STRQ might burn down the school before they graduate—”_

_She fell silent as the wizard, her apparent superior, held up a hand. His eyes widened the moment he saw Hazel._

_“My apologies, Glynda,” he said. “But it would seem we have a guest.”_

_Glynda turned around and narrowed her eyes. “Ellie, what are you doing? Who is this man?”_

_“Sis,” Elphaba muttered, her head low. “He’s Gretchen’s brother.”_

_Her sister looked like she had been shot in the gut. “Oh. You’re… I’m so sorry for your loss.”_

_Hazel’s heart accelerated. “What loss?” He whirled on the wizard. “What are you doing here, Ozpin?”_

_“I am the headmaster of this academy. Like you, old friend, I’ve changed a great deal.” The wizard explained. His eyes flickered to his clasped hands, his gaze filled with remorse and regret. “For what it’s worth, it is good to see you. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”_

_“Where is my sister?” Hazel demanded._

_Glynda and Elphaba looked away from him. The wizard gulped. “Gretchen’s team was sent on their end of term mission. They were shadowing a huntsman when they came upon a village under attack by Grimm. She… she didn’t make it out.”_

_No._

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

_“She wasn’t trained.” He growled. “She had no training. She shouldn’t even have been here! Why did you let her in?”_

_“Her transcripts—”_

_“Don’t tell me you can’t see through fakes, wizard! Why did you let her go? Why did you even let her in?”_

_The wizard sighed. “I wasn’t going to, initially. She passed the physical examination, but it wasn’t anything remarkable. Then came the interview portion and… she had such earnestness, such a steadfast desire to protect others. She said she got it from you.”_

**He shifts the blame. He blames you—**

_Hazel grunted and pushed the Queen’s whispers back down. How unbalanced was he that her words were taking root?_

_“When she showed me your picture, I thought that… well that you must have trained her,” Ozpin continued glumly. “I thought that if you had seen promise in her, then I could help her reach her fullest potential.”_

**Her full potential for him. His savior to slay the darkness he cannot.**

_Be silent._

**Because you tire, or because you agree?**

_“Quiet!” Hazel roared, to both the wizard and the witch. But since only one was present, he stalked towards Ozpin. “You threw her to the Grimm!”_

_“Gretchen had been improving for months,” Glynda argued calmly, “She had more than reached the level to—”_

_“She was a child! She was my sister!”_

_“She chose to be a huntress!” Elphaba shot back, far more fire in her voice than her sister’s measured clip. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir. But she made a choice, an honorable choice, to put others before herself. She was a hero.”_

**Hero… he does so love making them. How many more saviors will he forge to _die_ for him? To shatter against the darkness he cannot defeat himself?**

_“Hero…” Hazel growled, knowing the witch’s words were getting to him, but too absorbed in grief to care._

_How long had he wandered? An eon? An eternity? Longer?_

_He had been lost, adrift, purposeless, without even a name. And then she’d found him. They built their cabin, hunted their food, argued about what they should do about the Grimm. He’d read her stories before nightfall while she made voices for the characters by candlelight. The time before he met Gretchen had blurred together into a meaningless flood of empty time, but he could recall so many wonderful, blessed moments of the last decade, all with her._

_And now she was gone._

_Because the wizard needed a savior to try to win a war that couldn’t be won._

_Ozpin stepped forward from behind the desk, pulling back Elphaba. “Old friend, I am deeply sorry for my failure in this matter. I overestimated her because of my faith in you and it cost her life. I should have ensured she was better trained, better prepared—”_

_His apology was interrupted as he smashed into the floor, the emerald steel buckling under the weight. The weight of the wizard’s hundreds of lives dragging him down. The women to his sides fell to their knees and gravity crashed around them. The dozens of gears arrayed throughout the office halted their turning and began to tumble down._

_“You should have sent her home,” Hazel glared at the wizard. “You shouldn’t have thrown a child into harm’s way just to scramble for some imaginary savior!”_

_“Imaginary savior?” Ozpin croaked, struggling with his cane to keep from flattening against the floor. “What do you suggest we do? Lay down and let Salem kill us all?”_

_What? Lay down and… her Grimm had killed…_

_They’d killed…_

_And yet… he was…_

_His distraction cost him. The pull of gravity ceased just as it would have collapsed the room, and possibly the entire tower. Glynda and Elphaba shot to their feet, flames of power and magic alight in the latter’s eyes._

_Glynda drew a riding crop from her side and whipped it around. The steel of the office unbent, and the gears righted themselves on their axis._

_Wasting no time, she swung the stick towards him. An invisible hand seemed to grip Hazel and drag him around to the window side of the room. He triggered his semblance on his own body and smashed himself into the ground halting his movement cold. He reached forth his hand and gravity slammed down on Glynda, bashing her into the floor and shattering her aura. A thin trail of blood dribbled along the floor._

_Then Elphaba stepped forward, magic like a summer storm blazing in her eyes._

_She thrust her hands forward and all at once he was struck by a typhoon, a tempest, and a firestorm, all concentrated into a single brutal assault. He felt his flesh flay from his bones even as his second Noble Phantasm rejuvenated his lost body at an unfathomable rate. He held fast against the storm, even as his own power pressed down upon him._

_“Elphaba!” Ozpin cried. “Stop!”_

_The huntress, the maiden, did not listen, especially as the black mud inherent in Hazel’s form seeped out to his skin. With it, and his focus on the foe before him, the Queen’s whispers crescendoed to a roar._

**A hopeless war.**

**A war that can never be won.**

**You could have ended it in the snow.**

**But you were kind. Compassionate.**

**You saved us.**

_I didn’t know it was you._

**But you knew it _could_ have been.**

**You allowed our victory.**

**The victory he rails against.**

**That he sacrifices everything and everyone to overturn.**

**This endless suffering. This pointless carnage. A single shard that forever screams in agony.**

**An eternal Remnant.**

**It needs to end.**

**The only way it can.**

_Hazel tried to reject it. He’d tried to remember… that… that person… who’d ordered him to go on… to live… to challenge the impossible… him and the wizard and the girl from the snowy castle…_

_But where had that gotten them? They’d failed in the end. He’d failed. Just like the golden man on the bridge of his memories, the darkness had shown them fact, the truth. The truth that they could not stop it._

_And yet, the wizard persisted. And in that persistence, he sent legions to die._

_Legions of children, just like Gretchen. Who he’d deluded into thinking that their lives would matter, that they could push back the evil of their world. Never knowing that evil was their world. Leaving behind only corpses and the good people who would mourn for them. Only to give birth to a new generation who could suffer all over again. Over and Over and over again…_

_An eternity of agony, against an impossible foe. Just… a rabid beast, endless trying to claw out an invincible disease._

_Wasn’t it better… kinder… to put such a poor creature to rest, to spare it further torture?_

_He more than anyone knew that nothing came of striving for impossible things. Only a journey that turned to tedium, riddled with brief instants of hope that always, always, torn away._

_His introspection caused his semblance to falter once more, focus and undivided attention key to his phantasm. Elphaba’s blast ejected him from Beacon Tower and sent him flying across the skyline of Vale. He landed in a crater about a mile outside the city, squashing a pack of Beowolves with the impact._

_He had a feeling Salem wouldn’t begrudge him for it._

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Oscar had spent a long time wishing for quiet. Sure, the ambient growls and squawks of random Grimm had been terrifying when he’d first been plunged into the dark castle cell, but spending days on end listening to them, the menagerie had just become annoying.

That seemed to be the state of things in general. While the eerie permeance of evil was thick in the very essence of the Grimmlands, after being stuck in the dungeon for a few days, the entire thing just felt standard. Still intimidating and worthy of trepidation, but not something he could work himself up over when he really needed some shut-eye. Or maybe he was just imagining whatever reassurances Ozpin would have whispered in the back of his head.

He still couldn’t believe he was gone. The collection of souls that had reincarnated into his head all those months ago had changed his life forever, launching him onto a journey he never could have imagined. He’d met heroes of legend, huntsmen and huntresses of wonder, and he’d even managed to be of some assistance to them. And even if it hadn’t been perfect, if Ozpin hadn’t been perfect, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.

Or maybe he was just being nostalgic for the time when he wasn’t locked in a Grimm dungeon. Everyone did tell him that most mages tended to go insane.

The heavy door of the cell clunked up and Oscar looked up from his seat against the wall. He snorted at the sight of his visitor, the reason he was even in the cell and not dead or an alter.

Hazel stalked softly into the cell, his light footsteps out of place for such a large man. Or Servant, or alter, or Grimm. Oscar was pretty sure no mere human could hold the sway he did with Salem. He couldn’t fathom how the huntress who’d saved his family could be related to such a monster.

The hulking man sat in front of Oscar cross-legged, setting down a plate of cheese sandwiches on the floor between them. He glared back at the brute, but he did grab one of the sandwiches. No matter his feelings towards the cook, he would need his energy if he was going to figure a way out of this mess.

“Gretchen…” he began slowly. “What was she like? At the end?”

Oscar took a tentative nibble out of his sandwich. “I don’t know. I never met her. She saved my parents and my aunt before I was born.”

“Oh,” Hazel remarked sullenly. “I see. I suppose that makes sense. You hardly look old enough to have been alive back then.”

“True, but my aunt told me the story of that day more times than I can count,” Oscar revealed. “Gretchen sacrificed herself to save them from the _Grimm_.”

He placed extra emphasis on that fact. He hoped that it would be a revelation, that the man before him had been deceived, that Salem had lied to him to get him on her side.

Alas, the Last Hero merely sighed.

Oscar put the sandwich down and narrowed his eyes. “You blamed Ozpin. You _hated_ Ozpin. And yet you’re working for the one who made the monsters that butchered her.”

Hazel shrugged. “I can’t kill her. I missed my chance long ago. Though I admit, now that Ozpin is gone, I feel… nothing. No joy, no satisfaction. His final death was ultimately as weightless as any of his others. He was a fool, a fool who brought pain to many… but I suppose I should not have begrudged him his hope.”

“Brought pain to many?” Oscar shot to his feet. “Ozpin made mistakes, some of them terrible, but he spent _an eon_ trying to save humanity! He could have given up, hell, anyone else would have, but he _didn’t_. He kept trying to save the world.”

“He should have given up,” Hazel stated sullenly. “It would have done more good.”

“Last I checked, humanity’s still here.”

“And what for?” he asked. “The kingdoms wall themselves away in terror of the Grimm. The few who dare to travel outside their protection are all slaughtered in time. Huntsmen rise to protect the innocent, heroes all, determined to save the day. And every single one has died, so much that they need to begin training replacements from childhood just to keep up with the demand. But they can’t. Because the Grimm are endless, and Salem is immortal. As it is, all humanity has to look forward to is agony and suffering. Forever.”

“So, your solution is to let her kill most of them and turn the rest into Alters?” Oscar demanded. “How is that any better?”

“When Ozpin and I first failed, back when he was still just Merlin, there were maybe a million people who had survived the corruption’s initial extinction purge. About six billion people had been killed.”

“Six billion?” Oscar gasped. That was unfathomable. There was maybe half that on all of Remnant, more likely less. If Salem had destroyed that many, just how grand had the old world been?

Hazel nodded. “And because Ozpin and I did not surrender the remaining populace, the Grimm have butchered billions more over the last eon. If there was a purpose, if the war against Salem could be won, perhaps it could be excused. But it cannot. We make more people to suffer and die. This final purge, the rise of the Alters, it will put an end to that. It will bring peace.”

“It will bring extinction.”

“More evolution. A humanity no longer hypocritical in the face of its own evil.”

“What does that even mean?!” Oscar screamed, kicking the plate of sandwiches into the wall. “You and Salem and every Alter keeps going on about all these big fancy ideas and concepts and _excuses_ , trying to dress up what you’re doing as if it’s not genocide! And you’re the worst of all! Because the others, they’re powerless to resist her, but you! I have Ozpin’s memories, you resisted her for an eon! What happened? Why aren’t you fighting?”

Disgustingly, _infuriatingly_ , Hazel did not rise to his shouts. He merely raised his head, meeting his blazing glare with a calm, stony gaze. “We all say that as if it’s so simple. An eon. You, me, Ozpin. Such a simple term, we often forget we started using it because millennia became inadequate to describe our time on this world. Ozpin, stayed with others, his reincarnation ensuring he would never be alone. Me… at first… I think I was alright. My old king, the one who ordered me to live, he taught me to challenge the impossible, to move forward against the unattainable and enjoy the life around me. And because of that ideal, I did. I parted ways with Ozpin, the war could not be won, but I journeyed between the early settlements, resisting the Queen’s whispers, helping whoever I could, gathering companions I cared for. We did good. We did many… good things.”

“Does this have a point?” Oscar growled. “Other than showing just how low you’ve sunk?”

“They died,” Hazel bluntly stated. “My companions. My friends. Not always to Grimm, but never kindly. Humans, Faunus, even animals, again and again, those I cared for would be cut down in the cruelest of manners. But I lived on with hope, gathering more and more, watching them all die again and again until the memories outnumbered the millennia I’d lived and I had to forget them to preserve what little sanity I had left. Leaving me with only the Queen’s whispers as I trudged across a broken world.”

A river of tears silently streamed from the brute’s eyes, his stony expression breaking just a fraction. “If I hadn’t seen the king at Haven, I… I wouldn’t have even remembered that any of them had existed.”

Despite himself, despite his fury, Oscar couldn’t help a pang of sympathy beat in his heart. Perhaps it was remnants of Ozpin’s feelings, but his hate for the man before him was finding it difficult to stand unbowed against his newest revelation. Most people, even legendary heroes, were corrupted by Salem in an instant, but he… he’d held out for how long?

“When Gretchen… when she came into my life, I had hope, for the first time in an eternity, because I had forgotten my pain in the pit of my solitude.” Hazel continued. “And when she died… I couldn’t do nothing anymore. But Salem cannot be beaten. I could not correct the error of failing to kill her, so I would correct the resistance that had become error in hindsight.”

“By wiping out humanity?”

“By evolving it. Many will die, and their sacrifice is a tragic necessity, but a world of Alters, a world where Salem is all, is a world where Salem can ensure peace, acceptance of all sins and without a need for righteousness. Something that humanity has always proved lacking in doing so on their own. They created Angra Mainyu, tortured an innocent who had wronged no one, solely so they could blame someone for their own failings. Even in this era of Remnant, where the Grimm threaten to destroy all, humanity has warred on itself and the Faunus how many times? I do not ask this for effect, I witnessed all their conflicts firsthand but there have been so many… I could not keep track. They were so… petty. A world of Alters, a world of Salem, I don’t imagine it will be perfect, but… it will be better. Free of hypocrisy at least.”

Oscar clenched his fists as his fury returned. “So the whole world has to lay down and die so you and whoever Salem picks to be a psycho can go live in your ‘better’ world?”

Hazel tilted his head to the side, genuinely confounded. “I’m not going to live there. Boy… Oscar, what do I have to live for? I have lived my fill, far longer than anyone should ever be forced to endure. It is a disgrace to the king who ordered me otherwise but… I’m tired. I’m so tired. I just… I want to end this world and see the next one begin darker, and perhaps brighter, than the last one did. Then, Saber Alter will put me to rest with her blade and who knows? Maybe the new era will provide new heroes, so I might no longer be the last.”

He lugged his way up to his feet and gathered the shattered pieces of plate and sandwich. “I’ve spoken with the Queen and ensured you and your friends will have a place in the new era. Until then, I’ll get you something else to eat.”

Oscar watched as the giant lumbered to the door, his head dipped in sadness, his thoughts whirling with incredulity.

“I think you were a good man!” he called at last, Hazel freezing in his tracks. “I think the reason you fought, the reason you kept going, why you resisted Salem for so long, you did it because you were a good man. Maybe you still are. But she’s twisted you. The man you used to be, the man your king inspired, the man Gretchen called her brother, he would have never accepted giving in to evil as a way to a ‘better’ world!”

Hazel chuckled brokenly. “No, he… Waver, didn’t care much for the world at all. Always trying to prove himself to himself or others. Only cared about the world when it was ending.”

Oscar glared at the titanic man’s back. “Guess that means he was better than you.”

The Last Hero said nothing. Within a moment, he had left the cell and the thick wooden door had left the last mage on Remnant alone once more.

Magic circuits lit up along Oscar’s arm. With a feral howl, he whirled around and punched the black stone wall. The rock cracked under the blow, but only at surface level. It would take him hours to break through, and that was assuming he could miraculously keep up his reinforcement the entire time.

But reinforcement wasn’t the only trick up his sleeve. Ozpin may have been gone, but he’d taught him the basics of more than a few spells, even that teleportation trick, though he didn’t know when he’d get to use that again. Few things had the kind of bond as Excalibur and Avalon.

Still, he may have been trapped, but he was far from helpless. His moment would come, sooner or later. And when it did, he would seize hold of it with both hands.

He wouldn’t give up. He had to do something.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Weiss smiled as she overlooked the Grimmlands, her room’s balcony providing the most exquisite view of the Nevermores and Wyverns roosting atop spires of violet crystal. The graceful purple glow set against the blood red sky made for a wonderful atmosphere. Deep below, countless pits of black mud spawned new Grimm across the land, each one trudging forth to gather in the Queen’s ranks.

“I think I can see some Arma Nuckelavee down there,” she remarked jovially. “The Queen must have added them to cycle.”

“Congratulations!” Lancer Alter called from the room. “You’ve earned that recognition. Salem has decided your Grimm is worthy enough to use it herself. That’s quite the accomplishment.”

Weiss preened at his words and turned back to the room with a blissful grin. Cu Chulainn bustled about at a short table at the foot of her black satin bed. Gae Bolg leaned against the wall as its master prepped two plates of smoked, before lighting a candelabra at the table’s center.

“You know, the Seers would have cooked something if you’d asked,” Weiss pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Please, cooking is a joy, not a hassle,” Lancer assured her with a roguish grin. “Besides, those tentacle hubs may be giving it their all, but they’re not meant for the kitchen, and my handler deserves only the best.”

Weiss blushed. “Well aren’t you a charmer.”

“The finest, my lady.”

The two took their seats at the table and dug into the meal. Cu Chulainn had cooked the salmon to perfection and topped it with a delectable mustard glaze. Complimented by a flute of sweet red wine and it was one of the better meals Weiss had ever had.

“Thank you,” she said once they had finished. “This is lovely.”

Lancer Alter chuckled. “Beats the rations we had to eat in the field. Figured we deserved as many good meals as we could get before we went back out there.”

“I can agree with that.” Weiss raised an eyebrow. “Still, you’re in a much better mood than I expected you to be. What with being unable to finish your duel with Hercules and all.”

Cu Chulainn cringed. “That was certainly… irritating, to say the least. Even more so since he’s likely dead thanks to Gilgamesh. Haven’t been able to finish a damn fight since I got here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, my lady,” he comforted her, reviving his easy smile. “War is an uncontrollable beast. You never know what you’re going to get. I’m at least grateful that my enemies are of such high quality that I can enjoy myself with them. And my allies.”

Weiss took another sip of her wine in order to hide her blush.

Lancer’s face became serious. He leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m more concerned about you, my lady. I’d thought you would have been a tad more distressed after recent events.”

_I killed Qrow. I murdered Ruby and Yang’s… what have I done—_

**What needed to be done. He blinded, bred them for Ozpin’s war, for them to die without meaning. Now, they are one step closer to salvation.**

_… Yes… yes… salvation…_

Weiss sank into a blissful smile. She didn’t know where these insidious doubts kept creeping up from, but the Queen was always there to keep her safe from them.

“I don’t know why you would think that,” she told Lancer. “Qrow is dead. Ozpin is dead. Thanks to Hazel and Saber Alter, the White Fang is scattered, and my filth of a father is no more. Ruby, Blake, and Yang have nothing holding them back now. And with the Queen’s help, I’m sure I can unite with them in salvation.”

“And your uncle?”

Oh, right. That.

Weiss’ face froze, her brow furrowed in consternation. After Ozpin’s execution, the Queen had taken her aside and explained her relation to Watts. How he had been forced out of Atlas by her father and his old partner. How he had participated in the Fifth Holy Grail War and been recruited into Salem’s inner circle after its conclusion. How he had not cared to inform her of their blood tie due to disowning anything that came from Jacques.

That information left her… conflicted.

On one hand, she could more than understand wanting to distance oneself from anything associated with her so-called father, especially since Watts apparently had even more history with the bastard then she did as his brother. But on the other, she wasn’t her father. She had already renounced him and everything to do with the Schnee name. Why couldn’t her uncle have at least tried to reach out to her? They were both in the service of the Queen, were they not?

“I… I don’t know what to feel about Watts,” she confessed to Cu Chulainn. “He was my uncle, and I think I may have liked to have known him, but the simple fact is that I didn’t. He was an ally, but he was not my friend. Does that make sense?”

“Perfectly,” Lancer confirmed. “There’s no shame in not knowing how to feel. I was simply worried you might be surprising any grief you did have. Trust me, that is not healthy.”

Weiss chuckled. “Don’t I know it. I spent my entire life hiding what I really believed, tailoring myself to whatever my father or my family name required. Weiss was always secondary to the Schnee family. But then, I went to Beacon, and all of a sudden, all those feelings of superior, that sense of entitlement, they were wrong. They were wrong and that meant who I was, who I wanted to be, that person could exist, could thrive. And my team, they’re the ones that made it possible. They freed me, primed me for the liberation of the Queen. And now, I’ve done the same for them. I promise you, Lancer, I’m not ignoring any of my feelings. I’m simply choosing to focus on those that bring me joy.”

“Oh?” Cu Chulainn challenged, his eyebrow wiggling playfully. “Is there anything I can do to help with this joy, my lady?”

Weiss immediately paled. She elegantly coughed into her palm, not at all noticing how her Servant’s jawline was set like sculpted marble or how his crimson eyes sparkled like rubies in the candlelight. “I… I don’t know what you could be talking about, you idiot.”

Cu Chulainn laughed. “Aw, I thought I made you better. In my own vulgar, crass, preposterous way.”

Weiss squeaked. “You heard that?”

“I’m a demigod and a Servant, my lady,” the spearman reminded her. “My hearing is more than a bit above par.”

“Ah, yes,” Weiss chuckled nervously. She kept her awkward laugh going for a few moments, desperately hoping the Queen’s voice would chime through her head like it usually did in her moments of indecision, but for once there was only silence. It seemed All the World’s Evils did not assist in romantic entanglements.

What was she supposed to do? She’d had a hard enough asking Neptune to the dance. How the hell was she supposed to deal with the legendary hero that had discovered her crush on him? Oh, how was Yang always so confident dealing with guys? What was the secret—

Wait. _Yang_ was always confident dealing with guys. Yang and Ruby didn’t know how to keep secrets, at least not well. The both of them were upfront, honest.

Was that all she needed to be? The Queen’s will did despise lies, and she had decided to accept everything that made her happy and that most definitely included Cu Chulainn. Did she just need to…what the hell, why not?

She stood from her chair, her best confident look on her face. With as much grace as she could muster, she slinked around the table and stood before her Servant.

Lancer Alter grinned up at her. “Something more you wish to say, my lady.?”

“Yes,” Weiss cleared her throat, before coughing and straightening herself. “Yes. If my feelings towards you were to extend beyond… a typical master and Servant relationship, would you be willing to… reciprocate those feelings?”

“You overcomplicate matters, my lady,” Cu Chulainn declared. “I would have thought the candlelit dinner would have made my feelings on the matter quite clear.”

Weiss gulped. “So... you—"

“I told you when we first met that I would be thrilled to fight beside such a lovely young woman as you,” Lancer assured her, stark honesty plain on his face. “Since then, you’ve proved to be more than I’d hoped for in a partner. But if you’re hesitating so much, perhaps it would be best to wait until—”

Weiss cut him off with a kiss. Her lips smashed into his, their mouths still wet from the meal, her desire overpowering any fear she might have had. She wanted this, she wanted him, and if he wanted her as well, then she wouldn’t let such a miniscule thing as hesitation keep her from her triumph. Maybe it was love, maybe it was lust, but she wanted to know what exactly it was that made her insides tingle every time she looked at Cu Chulainn.

Especially since said tingles felt like they were on fire every second their kiss continued.

They parted briefly for breath, both of them staring tenderly into each other’s eyes. They spoke no words, the grins that blossomed across both their faces communication enough.

She climbed onto his chest and wrapped her legs around his waist just as he gripped under hers. They kissed once more, passion and heat rushing between them.

It was to be a very sinful night in hell.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Arturia marched up to the black throne and fell to one knee, her head bowed in respect. “Your grace, if I may have a moment of your time?”

Salem grinned down from her seat of power. “Of course, my dear King of Knights, how can I help you? If it’s about the noise in the living quarters of the palace, I assure you the Seers are already preparing alternate rooms in case Weiss and Lancer Alter get… enthusiastic.”

Arturia raised an eyebrow. “Um, no, your grace. That was not what I meant. I wished to confirm some of the details of our contract.”

“Oh,” Salem remarked, her scarlet eyes darkening. “Has your old teacher’s final fate roused doubt within you, Arthur? You of all people should know exactly why I could not let him live on.”

“I understand that, your grace, believe me,” Arturia’s fists tightened. “I am more than aware of how foolish allowing Merlin to live would have been.”

“Then what is your concern?”

Arturia raised her head to meet her Queen’s gaze, her sickly yellow eyes shining behind her mask of shadows. “As you know, I heeded your call to war in order to protect my family. In exchange for the power to defeat Gilgamesh, I swore to obey your every command and ensure your victory in this battle. I understand and accept that such an oath requires me to be willing to strike down Mordred and Jaune should they not submit, they have chosen their fate.”

“Indeed,” Salem agreed. “Forgive me, my dear, but I fail to see the point you are attempting to raise.”

“My point,” Arturia bit out. “Is that such a pact does not include my family being slaughtered if you emerge victorious in this war.”

Salem’s fury evaporated, replaced with an easy laugh. “No. No, it does not. And thus, they shall not die. Come now, King of Knights, I am within you. You should know the fate I have in mind for your family.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Arturia declared forcefully. “Not your whispers.”

“You do not trust me?”

“You are All the World’s Evils.”

Salem sighed. “Fair enough. Very well. Just as I have to grant Weiss’ loved ones a place in my new world as Alters, I shall do the same with the members of your family that survive the world. Afterward, when I have become this world’s spirit, you and they may live together in peace for the rest of your days. Are you satisfied?”

Arturia nodded. She’d had to judge enough liars during her time as king to know when she heard the truth.

“Good,” Salem declared. She shook her tiredly. “Really, why does everyone seem to believe I’m going to break my word when they fulfill the terms of our agreement? I’m already blamed for every single sin humanity has ever committed. If I broke my word, I wouldn’t be able to get any allies at all.”

“Perhaps they merely fear you will not be honest once those allies have outlived their usefulness,” Arturia suggested. “What you use would you have for honoring a bargain that no longer benefits you.”

“Because they have earned it,” Salem protested. “I know exactly what it is like to be cast aside, to be tortured and bled and beaten until you can longer remember your own name. To treated less than you’ve earned, than you deserve. And when I am this world, when I advise the mind of every single living thing on this planet, when the winds of fate answer to _me_ , I shall ensure such a travesty never happens again.”

“How… noble,” Arturia commented. Indeed, if she had only heard Salem’s sentiments, she would have honestly thought her an overzealous hero. But with her knowledge of her methods, that was a bit too far out of reach. “If that is all, my Queen—”

The air behind her suddenly shuddered, the darkness of the world straining as if reality was facing an impossible intrusion. Arturia leapt to her feet and whipped around, Excalibur Morgan drawn and ready. Salem merely raised an eyebrow from her throne.

Before the both of them was a shimmering golden portal, its surface flickering weakly somewhat, but still as wonderous and radiant as its fellows had been in Mistral. A figure in dark robes stepped through as the gate closed behind him.

“Kirei,” Salem greeted with a grin. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Arturia watched the priest’s eyes wander all over the castle, his dark orbs for once alight with something that might have been wonder. Finally, they settled upon the Queen and the assassin bowed his head.

“Salem, I presume,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you as well. As to my purpose, I have come to bargain.”

The Grimm outside in hell roared towards the blood red sky as their mother smiled with her most sinister pleasure.


	68. The Worth of Honor

Despite the horrors at its core, Diarmuid couldn’t help but find the world of Remnant beautiful at times.

They’d made excellent time to the city of Argus, Rider’s chariot and a Mordred piloted bullhead easily outpacing any Grimm that attempted to pursue them, though a horde of Manticores did try, their Sphinx leader even getting close before Iskandar had put some effort into his speed.

The actual city was a far more elegant place than the Knight of Fianna had expected for a settlement on the edge of the kingdom. The buildings were decorated with elaborate ceramic spirals, a light dusting of snow granting them an almost ethereal air. Despite its distance from the capital, the metropolis was thriving, all kinds of people bustling about their day, the Grimm the furthest thing from their mind. According to Ren, the city’s prosperity was a result of a long cooperation with settlers from Mantle, now Atlas. The partnership had taught the Mistralians how to survive in the harsh, cold environment and in turn, Atlas was allowed to maintain a military base on the coast.

Such comradery amongst humanity, even in the darkest of times, warmed Diarmuid’s heart. That the ideals he had fought so hard for had not been extinguished as he’d feared during his last grail war, it was a wonderful feeling.

Now all they had to do was ensure that such honor could continue to flourish. And he specifically had to honor his fallen master’s wish, to fix one more broken fault in this world, to heal a pointless hatred between races. For the sake of both, they had to defeat Salem.

Unfortunately, not all their obstacles could be dealt with by force.

“The Kingdom of Atlas’s borders are closed! And they shall certainly not be reopened for terrorist vermin!”

Case in point.

Specialist Caroline Cordovin likely had her reasons for her… tenacity in her kingdom’s defense, but at the moment it was supremely unhelpful for their group’s quest. After meeting them on the gated bridge to her base (along with a pair of strangely synchronized guards), she had barely allowed them to get a word in edgewise after they’d stated their desire to go to Atlas, ranting about how the other kingdoms blamed them for the Fall of Beacon and that just because they were pulling back the majority of their forces didn’t mean they were marshaling for war. It just meant that high command trusted her to run the base with the barest of skeleton crews and she would not disappoint them by failing General Ironwood’s command… oh god, why wouldn’t she stop?

The entirety of the group, even Lady Blake, who normally excelled in maintaining her calm, and Iskandar, who could deal with almost anyone, stared furiously at the short, elderly woman. Lancer half expected that Lady Ilia or Vernal would have already attacked her if they hadn’t happened to resemble her remarks. The terrorist part, certainly not vermin. That sort of bigotry was never a worthy reason.

“Enough already, you hag!” Mordred shouted, cutting off the specialist at last. “We need to talk to this Steeltree guy—”

“ _Ironwood_!”

“Fine, Ironwood—”

“ _General_ Ironwood!”

“Whatever! We need to talk to… his name is seriously Ironwood? Like—”

“No!” Specialist Cordovin screamed, the duo of guards glaring at Mordred from behind her. “Not like that at all! You shall not profane the general’s mighty name in such a manner!”

“How can we ‘profane’ it if it’s his name?” Nora pointed out. “I mean, what’s so bad about Ironwood—oh, now I get it. That must be really awkward at public—”

“Okay!” Ruby bit out, frustratedly. The red hooded girl stepped to the front of the group, her hard silver eyes forcing Cordovin to look up at her. “We get that Atlas’ borders are closed. We get that you’re not going to let us through. But we need to contact General Ironwood or the entire world, including Atlas, is going to be destroyed.”

“You… you honestly expect me to believe such nonsense?” Cordovin exclaimed, rallying herself against the cold teenager. “I will not distract the general from his duties for the whims of—”

“Vernal!” Ruby called. “You’re up!”

The bandit nodded and stepped forward, her weapons swinging openly at her sides.

“What are you doing?” Cordovin protested, both her and the men at her back reaching inside their coats, likely for weapons. “You will not—”

“Specialist Order 0211,” Vernal stated bluntly. “Codename Black Rook.”

All three of the Atlesian soldiers froze in their tracks, Cordovin in particular blinking in shock.

“What? You… Security Code?”

Vernal rolled her eyes. “Odin’s left eye comes to roost.”

Cordovin stood stock still for a few moments, before straightening up and coughing into her fist. “I see. Of course, you understand I will have to verify such a code with high command?”

“Go ahead, take your time,” Vernal snarked. “Not like the world depends on it or something.”

Cordovin chuckled awkwardly. “No… no, of course not. Of course not.”

She and her men dashed back into their base and a moment after, the gates slammed shut.

Nora groaned. “So, that’s done. What the heck do we do now?”

Ruby shrugged. “Set up camp. We don’t have enough lien left for a hotel and we should be here to meet up with Ironwood as soon as he gets here.”

“Set up camp here?” Ren queried, his eyebrow raised. “In front of a military base?”

“We’re not on their property and it’s not like they can argue with four Servants,” Ruby pointed out. “You guys should relax while you can. This may be the last downtime we get… well, ever. Assassin, I need your help with that matter we discussed.”

Assassin nodded and the two headed over to the edge of the bridge, Ruby sitting down cross-legged and closing her eyes, her aura glowing crimson and flaring with turquoise sparks.

Jaune gulped. “Well, I guess we should get to work. Ren, Nora, and I’ll go grab us something to eat.”

“Good idea,” Vernal nodded. “I’ll go find a bar.”

“…To?”

“To drink and hit people. She said to relax and I’m a bandit. I’m not jumping into the apocalypse without one last bar fight.”

Jaune smacked his face into his hand. “Sure, why not?”

Mordred rubbed her chin. “That actually sounds—”

“No.”

The Knight of Treachery turned away with a hurt scowl. She left with her master’s team soon after.

Vernal turned to Lady Ilia. “Yo, skinchanger, you want to join me?”

Ilia blinked, taken aback by the offer. “Skinchanger?”

“Fine, Ilia,” Vernal rolled her eyes. “Do you want to get drunk and beat up drunks?”

The chameleon Faunus narrowed her eyes. “I don’t drink.”

Vernal looked hurt for a moment before scowling and going on her way. “Suit yourself.”

Lady Blake put a comforting hand on Ilia’s shoulder. Her old friend smiled and shot Diarmuid himself a loving grin. Despite knowing that her adoration was merely a result of his curse, a curse that they had no way to purify from her and Blake without Ozpin, Lancer smiled back, not wanting to offend her.

Blake looked to Yang. “So, should we set up? Yang?”

“What?” the blond huntress flinched, pulling herself away from gazing at her sister’s back.

Lady Blake frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Yang yelped. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m not fine.”

Lady Blake sighed and looked forlornly at her partner. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yang froze, her eyes widening like a deer that had spotted a hunter. “ _It_?”

“What happened at Haven?” Blake supplied. “I know I can’t really help with whatever you must have experienced from the relic, but your mom… well… I know more than a little about what it’s like to lose people.”

“Right, of course,” Yang sighed, gazing miserably down to her feet. “We all do, I guess.”

Diarmuid noted that the King of Conquerors was unusually silent at his master’s despair. He should have been boisterously bragging about how she needn’t fear loss when victory would be theirs, but instead, he just stared at the ground, lost in thought.

“You need not worry, Lady Yang,” the Lancer comforted her himself. “We will defeat Salem and the King of Heroes. We will save your mother.”

Yang grimaced. “Thanks for trying, Lancer but… we both know that first thing is unlikely at best. And the second… Rider, can I talk to you in private?”

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. “Always, master.”

“Okay. The other end of the bridge should work.”

“Yang!” Blake called as the other huntress began to walk away. “You know… I’m always here for you, right? You can talk to me.”

Yang forced a smile, albeit, one that looked like it wanted to be real. “I do, partner. And I’m more grateful for that than you know. But what I need to talk about… I’m not sure if it’ll help anyone to know or not.”

Blake frowned. “Oh, okay. Good luck with… whatever it is.”

Yang nodded gratefully and walked away with Rider.

Diarmuid clasped a comforting hand on his master’s shoulder. She sent him a grateful smile in return, one that made it seem like all her problems disappeared when she saw his face. He knew it was her mind falling deeper into his curse as her other avenues of connection slammed in her face, but for once he couldn’t think of anything better. Maybe his blasted mole would actually do some good for once, soothe his master’s mind in these turbulent times.

Indeed, while Ruby Rose’s return had restored some sense of direction to their party, the mood had not improved since they’d left Mistral. He’d only been among them a short time back then, but even he could tell that though Ozpin and Archer were usually the ones with the plan of action, the others looked to the red hooded huntress for hope, for faith that they could triumph. But since the battle, she’d been cold, unyielding. It moved the group forward, but it did not do wonders for their already shaken morale. Indeed, the huntress’ behavior almost reminded him of…

Diarmuid’s eyes narrowed as his glare locked onto Assassin, the mage speaking some words of advice to his master, who gazed intently at the hand cannon and one of its bullets in her arms.

Blake noticed his gaze. “What did he do to you?”

Lancer flinched, the memory of losing control of his own body and thrusting Gae Dearg into his own lungs flashing through his mind. He clenched his fists to ensure they held no spear and looked away. “It is an issue of the past, master. Suffice to say, he is untrustworthy. We should not let our guard down around him.”

“You’ve said that before. Yet, you’ve never mentioned why you think that,” Blake reasoned. “You hate him. I’ve never seen you hate anyone. I know you both participated in the Fourth War, that’s the only place you could have met, but I don’t know what happened. Please, tell me Lancer. Everyone’s shutting me out and I can’t help anyone, just like I couldn’t help Sun or Adam. Please, let me help you.”

“Wait, the Fourth War…” Lady Ilia’s face went stark white, literally, thanks to her abilities. “Was he the one who… who…”

Diarmuid sighed. “Yes. He was the one who masterminded my demise.”

Lady Ilia immediately turned a blazing red and glared hard at Kiritsugu’s back. After he informed Lady Blake of the details, she did much the same.

“That monster,” she glared. “How could he?”

“For a fool’s dream.”

Diarmuid had already summoned his spears before Blake and Ilia had the time to turn around, Assassin’s afterimage fading from Ruby’s side.

“Impressive,” Kiritsugu noted, now standing before the trio. “The Lancer class is known for its agility, but not many are able to keep track of me like that.”

“What do you want?” Diarmuid demanded, stepping between his charges and their supposed ally.

Kiritsugu sighed. “To clear the air, as much as that’s possible given what I did to you. Like it or not, we’re on the same side, so we might as well get your anger dealt with before it jeopardizes either of us in battle.”

“Clear the air?” Diarmuid growled incredulously. “You threatened my master’s fiancée, so he would force me to commit suicide!”

“I already said you have every reason to hate me.”

“So does that mean you regret your actions?” Diarmuid snarled. “Do you repent your heinous crimes, Kiritsugu Emiya?”

“…”

“Well?”

“I regret that I did what I did in vain.”

“WHAT?”

Assassin looked out to sea, the brisk wind billowing through his ragged hair and robes. “Do not misunderstand me. I took no joy in doing what I did to you. But regret it? I have committed countless acts people would say are worthy of regret, heinous evils of the blackest pits of hell. And yet, I do not regret performing a single one, because they needed to be done in order to ensure that a worse calamity did not arise in their place. I am sorry for what I did to you not because of the nature of the act itself, but because it ultimately did not lead to the salvation I’d thought it would, that would have made it worth it.”

Ilia coiled her whip, the long tendril sparking with electricity. “Bastard.”

Kiritsugu cocked an eyebrow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Miss Amitola, but haven’t you performed similar acts as a member of the White Fang?”

The chameleon Faunus blinked in shock, before setting her face into a snarl. “That’s… that’s not…”

“You don’t need to humor this butcher, Lady Ilia,” Diarmuid comforted her, keeping his glare on the other Servant. “What monster could possibly believe salvation could be found through sin?”

“Has virtue done any better?” Kiritsugu shrugged. “You knights, you call certain methods of killing honorable and others dishonorable. But what’s the difference in the end? Someone is still dead. Someone’s loved ones will still mourn. If one can keep that number as low as possible, shouldn’t they take that path, no matter how sinful it might be? Success washes away disgrace. It is a disgusting truth of this world, but one we must accept if we are to have any hope of changing it.”

“Change it into what? A chasm of despair and nihilism?” Lancer challenged. “Honor is not easy, and I won’t deny there is vulnerability in it but there is innate goodness as well, in mutual respect, even with one’s opponents. You speak of killing, and death, and sin, but what of life, Kiritsugu Emiya? The thing you claim to be trying to preserve, to better? If the entire world lived as you do, what would there be to fight for? What would the lives you slaughter for be worth? It takes courage to live as a part of this world, with respect and honor, to trust that you will keep to your word because it is just, even if others may not. Your words are those of a coward, Assassin, unwilling to trust in the future or the capabilities of others.”

“Really?” Kiritsugu drew a cigarette from his belt and plucked it into his mouth. “How so?”

“My master only had a single Command Seal the night you killed me. You had three.” Diarmuid pointed out. “If you had trusted Saber, if you had worked with her instead of slinking around her back, you would have defeated me without treachery.”

“Perhaps,” Kiritsugu lit his cigarette, smoke blowing into his face from the wind. “But you and Saber were evenly matched that night. Assuming worst came to worst, I would have had to use two Command Seals to deal with you. With the other Servants waiting in the wings, I couldn’t afford to waste such resources. I ended up needing those Seals to make Saber destroy the grail.”

Diarmuid’s eyes widened. “You did what?”

“You destroyed the grail?” Blake gasped. “You… you did all those horrible things to get it… and you just threw it away?”

“It was corrupted. If I had made a wish, any wish, Angra Mainyu would have manifested,” Assassin explained. “Saber was pinned down by Gilgamesh. I didn’t have time to explain. I gave the orders and she raised her sword and… I faltered.”

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and squashed it into ash under his boot. “You asked if there is anything I’ve ever done that I regret? In and of themselves, there are only two, both acts of mercy. The first destroyed the town I grew up in. The second was then, at the final hour of the last war. I don’t know what brought it about, but I tried to comfort Saber, tried to make some sort of apology through our link as master and Servant. Unfortunately, Angra Mainyu was able to twist it into a wish and well… here we are.”

Diarmuid stared blankly into the sky, the brutal truth finally hitting him. “It was all for nothing. Even if I’d won, I would have just handed my master a poisoned chalice.”

“ _Let the Grail be cursed’,_ you said. ‘ _Let the wish it grants bring only disaster’._ It seems you needn’t have bothered,” Assassin observed solemnly. “Angra Mainyu rigged that war from the beginning. With or without honor, it was going to be the only victor.”

“But not this time, right?” Ilia asked feverishly. “The corruption left the grail. It had to so it could become Salem. The wish it grants will be pure, right?”

“Most likely, otherwise what reason would Salem have for fighting the war. Whoever won, she could just hijack their desires for her own ends.”

Diarmuid breathed a sigh of relief. If the grail was still corrupted… their chances were slim enough as it was. They would not have survived if their single ray of hope was extinguished. But now, Master Adam’s dream could be fulfilled!

“Then we can do it,” Blake declared strongly. “We can get the grail and save the world.”

“On my honor, Lady Blake,” Diarmuid concurred. “We shall. For Master Adam and all who have suffered.”

His master’s cheeks lit up with a deep blush, her amber eyes shyly flitting away.

“ _On your honor_ …” Assassin sighed. “You still don’t get it.”

Lancer’s eyes narrowed. “I have no desire to understand your broken soul, Assassin.” He gestured towards Ruby. “Nor do I wish to join the ranks of those you have already mustered to your cause.”

“Ruby needed to hear what I had to say.”

“She’s your granddaughter!” Blake accused furiously. “How could you twist her like that? After everything she’s lost?”

“To keep her moving forward, however possible,” Kiritsugu defended, his sunken eyes locked on Diarmuid, not in fury but mere frustration. “That is what you must understand, Lancer. Honor is a limitation, a handicap. If you refuse to do something that could achieve your goal because it is underhanded, your virtue will only lead the entire world to be sunken into hell. In this battle, you must use whatever tools are necessary to win. I saved Shirou and Summer from their fires by giving them my ideals to latch onto, to pull themselves out of death with.”

Tears welled in the killer’s eyes as he spoke of his fallen children. “Perhaps my greatest failure was not giving them anything more to grow beyond those treacherous things, but in the moment? When the flames threatened to burn them to ash? Those same cursed things kept them alive, and in the moment that was all that mattered. Ruby is the same. Her spite is a poor substitute for what she had before, but it is moving her forward. In time, if you truly are determined to achieve your goals, you will have to do whatever you have to do and when that time comes _you cannot allow yourself to be limited by honor_!”

Diarmuid’s grip around his spears tightened until his knuckles turned white. “You didn’t, and where has it gotten you? Everyone who knows you tolerates you at best and despises you at worst, and as you said, your dream of salvation has yet to flourish from your hellish feed. The world isn’t all conflict and when we defeat Salem, and we _will_ , it will go on, with or without us heroes. What legacy would you leave behind, to inspire those who come next, who will live in the world we’ve saved? One of betrayal and sin, no better than what we fight against?”

“At least I will have given them a world to ruin,” Kiritsugu replied cuttingly. “What will you leave behind, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne? Besides broken promises.”

Lancer’s spears flashed beside Assassin’s neck. “What did you just say?”

“Am I wrong?” Kiritsugu asked mockingly. “Your honor that you prize so highly, what has it accomplished? You surrender your will to the dreams of others, your _lords_ , and promise you will see those dreams become reality. And every time, in life and in the last war, you have _failed_.”

“Hold your tongue—”

“The Alters are stronger than us, faster than us. They will have the home-field advantage, unlimited prana, and just as much experience as we do if not more. We will not be able to defeat them without crossing some sort of line. But you won’t. You can’t bring yourself to choose that. You cling to your oaths like they’ll somehow make the world make sense, that it won’t be scary so long as you keep to your _honor_ and just have to worry about being _chivalrous_. Not actually think for yourself—”

“Enough!”

Ruby’s cold voice slashed through the brisk air like her departed scythe. Servant and huntress alike whirled around to the silver-eyed warrior, who lumbered to her feet.

“I told you to clear the air, not get him even more pissed at you,” she revealed, her back to them as her cloak blew in the wind. “Now get back over here. It’ll be here soon.”

Kiritsugu let out a tense breath and dashed back to his master’s side. Diarmuid reluctantly lowered his arms and evaporated his weapons back to the ether, though his glare didn’t leave Assassin.

“Um, Ruby,” Blake said, taking a tentative step forward. “What’ll be here soon?”

Ruby clipped the Contender to her side and extended her arms. Her aura flared crimson, sparks of turquoise bolting all about her palms, her muscles clenching hard as sweat rushed down her forehead. She mouthed several sentences, unable to spare the air to voice them, until finally…

“ _Tra…ce…_ ” she bit out, agony evident in every syllable. “ _O…n._ ”

The sparks ignited from her grasp and expanded into the air. Slowly but surely, glowing green lines of _prana_ crisscrossed before her, forming into the vague outline of… a polearm? No, there was a massive blade forming at one end, extending perpendicular to the shaft. It wasn’t a spear, it was…

“No way,” Blake whispered.

Crescent Rose reborn flashed into its master’s grip, the young girl panting heavily as her beloved weapon returned.

No sooner had it arrived than a familiar, feral screech split the air.

Ruby smirked. “Our test subject, Blake. Our test subject will be here soon.”

 

* * *

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“Your sister is…”

“Yeah,” Yang confirmed sullenly, her head bowed low. She’d needed to tell someone, keeping it to herself was driving her mad.

Iskandar hummed and nodded slowly. His eyes flickered to Ruby’s distant form, full of trepidation and wonder, she was thankful her Servant wasn’t calling her mad.

“That’s… a new one,” Iskandar noted. “To think there existed a power capable of giving a living form to a Noble Phantasm. The Chains of Heaven only did so by the will of gods, but for mortal hands to overwhelm the Sword of Rupture… it’s unprecedented.”

“Who cares about it being unprecedented?” Yang begged. “What do I do?”

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’d think your next step should be obvious. Or have you decided to discard Ruby as your sister?”

“Of course she’s my sister!” Yang yelled, her eyes flaring red. Nothing would ever change that. She’d watched Ruby grow up, had practically raised her after Summer died. She’d never not love her.

But at the same time, there was so much more to consider now. Things she didn’t have half a clue how to understand.

Her eyes faded back to violet and she paced feverishly in front of her Servant. “Ruby is Ruby, that’s that. She deserves to know, I know that, so I should tell her? But how the heck did Ruby come to be, what is she? She’s not a normal blade clone, if she was she wouldn’t have started as a baby and she would have disappeared when Summer died, it was her semblance after all, right? But we’ve always said how much Ruby _is like mom_ , so what if Ruby is just what she goes with because she doesn’t know she’s supposed to be any different? And if I tell her she’s Ea, she’ll suddenly stop being Ruby because she’ll think it was a personality Summer forced on her and she’ll turn into some super loyal Gilgamesh supporter!?”

“Master,” Iskandar stopped her, halting her pacing with a hand on her shoulder. “You’re putting an awful lot of thinking into this.”

Yang sighed, rushing her hands through her hair. “I know, I know, I’ve seen way too many movies on this stuff. Except I don’t know anything about how it _actually_ works. Like you said, this is unprecedented. What happens if I tell her and she decides that she doesn’t want to be Ruby anymore? Because I don’t think Summer was able to overpower Ea. She said it was taking control of what happened. Whatever it did to… turn into Ruby, it planned it. Or at least some of it.”

“And that concerns you?”

“Among other things, yeah,” Yang declared. “What happens if I tell her, and suddenly she remembers being Ea, and decides that ‘Ruby’ was never real, that my sister… that she was never real? Or, if Ruby is Ruby, or wants to be Ruby, goddamnit why is this so complicated… what’s it going to do to her if I tell her she was just a weapon that Summer and Raven needed to kill Salem?”

“Once again,” Iskandar said, “you’re overthinking it.”

“Am I?” Yang asked desperately. “You’ve seen the headspace she’s in. What happened at Haven, it’s… warped her, or something. She’s so… so cold. And I don’t know how to help her because I don’t know how to look at her anymore without half my brain telling me to make her a weapon of mass destruction!”

“I see how that could be a hassle,” Rider noted. “What’s the other half of your brain saying?”

“The other half?”

“You said half of you wanted to use her as a weapon. What does the other half want to do?”

Yang looked down the bridge leading to the Argus military base, the sea rushing against the steel and concrete as the breeze whisked through her hair. To one side, Blake, Lancer, and Ilia were confronting Assassin about something, each of them shouting words the huntress couldn’t hear from how far away she was.

On the other side though, facing the cold, blustering waves, was Ruby, her beautiful little sister, her tattered red cloak pooled around her legs like blood. She just sat there, stewing in all the horror she’d suffered, her face scrunched in stubborn concentration.

“The other half wants to give her a hug,” Yang confessed. “It wants to just wrap her in my arms, tell her that’s it’s alright, that I love her no matter what, and get her as far away from this whole mess as possible before I inevitably screw everything up and get her killed.”

“You?” Iskandar queried. “Why are you so certain that you will be the cause of her demise?”

Yang looked away in shame.

“Ah.” Her Servant realized. “Raven.”

Yang’s eyes filled with tears even as her hands clenched into rebellious fists. Her mother was another matter she still struggled with. Yes, she had left her and dad and Uncle Qrow. Yes, she had set her Berserkers on her friends and even Ruby. Yes, she had been willing to let her father die.

But what she’d seen in the Relic of Knowledge… it… it recontextualized events for the blond huntress. Despite being at a clear advantage in the hospital, Raven hadn’t even threatened to harm her. When the battle in the vault had erupted, she’d done everything she could to protect her. And when she’d left all those years ago, she’d done so to try to save her from becoming a soldier in a war that couldn’t be won, a plan she’d known would almost certainly result in her own death.

Knowing the good along with the bad made everything about Raven… difficult. Yang knew she was dangerous, but… she couldn’t find it within herself to hate her anymore. Despite all her impotent rage, she loved her.

And she’d stupidly put her in the path of Gilgamesh. Her mother was captured, being tortured to death, because Yang couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

If she said what she shouldn’t, or didn’t say what she should, she could doom Ruby as well.

Suddenly, Ruby hopped to her feet. Her aura flared, sparks flying across her arms as she growled in pain. Miraculously, Crescent Rose appeared in her arms a moment later.

Yang’s eyes widened. “What the—”

“That’s Archer’s tracing,” Iskandar observed, a note of interest in his voice. “But he was never able to create firearms.”

A shrill, feral shriek echoed across the water. The clouds parted as the massive, hellish form of a Sphinx Grimm descended from the sky, diving straight for the bridge.

“That thing followed us all the way here?” Yang gasped. “How’d it get past the walls?”

“Probably went around,” Iskandar guessed, unconcerned. “The defenses along the coast are just as strong as the main walls, but I believe they were flying Atlas’ colors.”

“And they’re running on a skeleton crew,” Yang grimaced, recalling the annoying specialist’s complaints. She unfurled Ember Celica. “We’ve got to waste that thing before it goes for the city!”

“Calm yourself, master,” Iskandar advised, his crimson gaze locked ahead. “I don’t think we need to worry about such an occurrence.”

“What?”

Her question went unanswered as she realized the Grimm wasn’t flying towards Argus. Rather, it was jetting towards a specific figure on the bridge.

“Ruby!”

She dashed towards her sister, but she needn’t have bothered.

Ruby calmly switched her new Crescent Rose into its full sniper rifle mode and locked onto the Sphinx without missing a beat. She pulled the trigger just as the beast’s mouth began to light up with fire.

The black creature instantly reeled back in midair, its bone coated skull rupturing with a flare of scarlet and emerald light. The Grimm howled into the sky, not with menace but with agony, churning as it crashed into the cold depths below. Finally, mercifully, it exploded in a mass of darkness before quickly dissipating into oblivion.

Yang paused dead in her tracks, having arrived right next to her teammates, Rider close behind. She gaped where the fearsome Grimm had once flown, her mind feverishly trying to figure out what Ruby had done to destroy a Nuckelavee level Grimm so easily.

Crescent Rose disappeared into flecks of turquoise light. Ruby dispassionately observed the results of her work. “Huh, one shot. Guess he didn’t lie about that at least.”

“Ruby…” Blake stuttered. “How did you do that? I thought Unlimited Bladeworks couldn’t create guns.”

“It can’t. At least, normally,” Ruby confirmed. “Archer’s domain was swords, and so that was what his world made. But now it’s mine. If I’d gotten it whole, it probably would have killed me, but it was scarred, broken. And it’s slowly been coming together anew, around me. And while I’ll never be able to manifest it like Archer could, or produce anything as cheaply, the restrictions are also a little looser. Especially for a gun I know like the back of my hand.”

A gun. Crescent Rose was just a gun. Not her baby, not her sweetheart, just another gun. Another tool in her arsenal.

“How did you kill it so quickly?” Yang asked breathlessly. “That thing was huge. One shot shouldn’t have taken it down and not… not like that.”

Ruby chuckled bitterly. “Another of Archer’s gifts. Took me awhile to do the same, but I wasn’t sure if studying the Contender and the bullets would be enough. Fortunately, as this test proves, I was worried about nothing.”

Yang’s eyes widened, though whether in shock or terror she couldn’t tell. “You mean…”

“You can trace Origin Rounds,” Kiritsugu finished, smiling proudly. “Most impressive, master.”

Ruby nodded in acknowledgment, no joy on her face. She unclipped a bandolier of seven large bullets from her belt along with the Contender. She held both out to Blake, who balked at the offered items.

“Take these,” Ruby ordered. “I can make my own now, and everybody else has some sort of ace in the hole to pull out. You’ll need these to take on our bigger enemies.”

“What?” Blake stammered. “Ruby, these are…”

“Powerful,” Ruby interrupted. “I’ve got my tracing and my eyes, Yang has her semblance, and Jaune has Strike Air. You’re a master too, Blake, and that means if you die, Lancer dies too and Gambol Shroud won’t be enough to keep Weiss Alter or Kirei from slitting your throat. You’re taking them and that’s final.”

Blake opened her mouth to argue, but in the end, took the Contender and Origin Rounds without another word.

Ruby gave her a curt nod and turned to Assassin. “Alright, first step’s done. Now what?”

“Keep practicing,” Kiristsugu told her. “You’ll need to get used to controlling the _prana_ usage if you’re going to make use of it in battle, especially if you use one of the Noble Phantasms. Practice should reduce the cost and, if we’re lucky, lessen the pain.”

“Pain?” Yang inquired worriedly. “Ruby, is Archer’s magecraft—”

“It’s fine,” Ruby snapped. She caught her arm in the midst of a spasm with a hiss. “No power comes for free. And we need everything we can get.”

“But—”

“Please, Yang,” Ruby sighed, for the first time since Haven not cold and unmovable. Just… tired. So tired. “I know what I’m doing. I’m going to die with everybody else if we lose anyway, so there really isn’t any difference.”

Yang didn’t know what to say. Ruby’s logic was sound, but she was risking killing herself for… not even a shot at victory. She didn’t think they could win. She was just trying to deal as much damage as she could while burning herself out. It was suicidal, not even considering herself a human worth protecting. Just another tool in her arsenal.

And if she knew that, from a certain, _wrong_ , point of view, that she was, how much worse would it get?

Dear god, they needed help.

 

* * *

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****

“Are you sure you don’t need help, mother? No one expects you to be on your feet any time soon.”

“I’m not planning to be on my feet any time soon after getting my soul ripped apart! I want you to let me eat my own damn pudding Winter!”

Winter cringed and put down the vanilla pudding on the tray over her mother’s hospital bed. Crystal’s eyes lit up as she scooped the sugary substance into her mouth.

Honestly, she was being far too overprotective. But given all she’d learned since returning to Atlas, she’d been more than on edge for months, terrified that she would glance over her shoulder and a magic hero in a purple cloak would appear out of thin air to kidnap her mother for the mystical power inside her. Granted, with Dr. Polendina’s experiment complete, said power was no longer present within her, but the Queen of the Grimm wouldn’t know that. And dear gods, there was a queen of the Grimm. No wonder Qrow drank all the time if he knew all this.

General Ironwood had informed her of a great many things after he’d called her back to Atlas with news of her family home’s destruction and her father and, far more importantly, her siblings’ kidnappings. She’d been more than a bit disbelieving until she’d visited her mother in the hospital and the woman had lit her eyes on fire to conjure a tornado in the palm of her hand.

In the months since, her mother had slowly recovered from the injuries she’d sustained from her battle with Caster as the general did everything he could to mobilize the largest task force in history, paying for hundreds of huntsmen and recalling every unit that could be spared from across the world. If the borders hadn’t been closed to the outside world, the other kingdoms would think they were planning an invasion.

Which they were. Though, the men didn’t exactly know that they’d be marching into the Grimmlands. Yet.

Fortunately, her mother made a full recovery in time for Dr. Polendina to safely perform his experiment. General Ironwood informed her there were some _very_ severe consequences they had not expected, but given that her mother had survived the power transfer and they had their ace in the whole, Winter would take what she could get.

Weiss and Whitely had been trapped in the Grimmlands, prisoners of this Salem, for months now. She could only imagine the terror they were experiencing, what hellish horrors the Mother of Grimm was inflicting upon them.

She was their older sister. She would save them.

They just needed to—

“Winter, darling,” Crystal interrupted. “Stop scrunching your forehead while you brood. You’ll wrinkle your forehead.”

Winter shook her head, breaking out of her introspection. “Mother, I don’t think such a thing really matters much in times like these.”

“Oh, but it does,” Crystal declared with a feral grin. “I want you to look your best when you send that Grimm bitch to hell for taking your siblings.”

Winter chuckled at the joke. Bluster they both knew it to be, she couldn’t help but appreciate the return of her mother’s old fire. Thanks to hospital policy, pudding had replaced alcohol in her diet and Crystal had regained quite a bit of her former radiance as she’d healed. Under father’s heel and, as she’d later learned, the burden of protecting the Winter Maiden’s power, she’d allowed herself to fade into a husk of her former self, drowned in wine. Now, she may have been wounded, but she was growing strong once more.

She only hoped Weiss and Whitely would sit beside her soon enough.

The door to the room clicked open. Winter whirled around, ready to draw her saber, but quickly brought her hand up into a salute when she saw who it was.

“Jimmy, darling,” Crystal greeted. “How goes the war effort?”

General Ironwood nodded. “Crystal, glad you’re doing better. At ease, Winter.”

“Sir.” Winter lowered her hand. “What can we do for you? Am I needed at the staging site?”

“No, Commander Obsidian is handling affairs there quite well,” the general assured her. “I need you to… well…”

Crystal rolled her eyes. “Seriously darling, you of all people should know I can keep a secret.”

Ironwood considered it for a moment and sighed. “Fair enough, we’ve received an SOS code from our base in Argus.”

Winter’s face scrunched in disgust. “Isn’t that where you assigned, Specialist Cordovin?”

“My gods, Jimmy darling, you’re still employing that cow?”

General Ironwood scowled. “It is indeed where I assigned Specialist Cordovin, but that’s not the important part. The SOS was one of Ozpin’s.”

Winter cocked an eyebrow. “I fail to understand, sir. Do you need me to escort the professor to Atlas? Or does Qrow require some sort of backup?”

“Neither. The code is an older one. Specifically, the one assigned to Raven Branwen.”

“Raven Branwen?” Winter repeated. “The bandit leader? She’s real?”

“She’s Qrow’s sister.”

Winter felt like she shouldn’t have been surprised but couldn’t help being so any way. For all her many, many issues with Qrow, she couldn’t imagine him permitting any family to remain nonincarcerated if they’d committed the laundry list of crimes attributed to the infamous Raven Branwen. Most just thought she was a figure the local bandit tribe used to monger fear.

So her contacting the general could not have boded well.

“She was the master of Berserker in the last war, wasn’t she?” Crystal inquired. “Summer mentioned her, I think.”

The general nodded. “They were partners before Raven went rogue. Her Berserker, one Sir Lancelot, was somehow able to remain incarnated after the war ended. It’s why Ozpin never pressed for her to be brought in after she left. He didn’t think we had the firepower to win a fight without massive casualties.”

Winter saw where this was going. “What are my orders, sir?”

Ironwood nodded proudly. “In theory, Raven and Lancelot would be a huge help to our operation, but I’m not naïve enough to think she’d ever come to us without an angle. The garrison at Argus, and indeed, the people of the city are in danger as she’s there unopposed. Take Ruler and bring her in or take her down.”

Winter nodded. This would be a good test for Ruler to see if she was ready for the hell they would soon be facing soon. A good test for them both really.

She was new to the world of magic and myth, and she had never been trained for any of it. But damnit, she was a specialist of Atlas. She wasn’t about to let her kingdom die to horrors from a thousand years ago. And she certainly wasn’t going to leave her family in its grasp.

She’d take down Raven Branwen and Salem would be next.


	69. False Ruler

_“Do you believe in destiny?”_

Even now, after all the death, surprise family members, and general Grail War chaos, Jaune still remembered that question clear as day. Just as he did the one who’d asked it to him.

They’d been in Argus for a few days and the time had come for another quest for food, which had almost instantly gone off the rails. Nora had taken all of five seconds to notice Mordred’s strangely sullen mood and immediately whisked her off looking for an arcade instead of a grocery store, Ren predictably dragged along by his partner’s other hand. Jaune would have done his best to follow them had a golden glint of sunlight off metal not drawn his gaze to a small park. And more importantly, the towering statue at its center.

Pyrrha, encased in metallic splendor, detailed so meticulously that she could have been mistaken for the real one if she wasn’t three times her size. Akouo strapped to her back, Milo in her hands, and her bronze hair that should have been scarlet tied back in her traditional, elegant ponytail. They even got the engraving on her matching crown and necklace right.

At her feet was a simple black plaque with gold lettering. _‘In honor of Pyrrha Nikos, one of the many students who fought valiantly at the Fall of Beacon.’_

Jaune felt ashamed, but he had almost forgotten what she’d looked like, his mind unable to replace the memory of her broken, bloody body beneath the tower. Though he had no idea why the statue was in Argus of all places, he was glad to have found it. It was good to remember what she was really like, how kind, how radiant… how beautiful…

And somehow, she’d decided to give him of all people a shot… maybe the world didn’t just get crazy with the war after all.

His legs had felt weak, so he’d plopped down on one of the benches scattered around the statue, his eyes unable to leave the memorial for his fallen partner.

“Do you believe in destiny?” he repeated quietly. “I know you weren’t exactly in the best headspace when you asked me that, but I think you might have been onto something with it. You knew more about what was going on back then than the rest of us did. You said that you thought of destiny as a goal you work towards. You asked me what I would do if I could accomplish my destiny in an instant, but at the cost of who I was. You also said that nothing made any sense.”

Despite himself, he chuckled bitterly. “I think you were right on the money with that. A year ago, my biggest problems were my own stupid macho pride and Professor Goodwitch breathing down my neck. Now, I’m part of a suicide attack on the Grimmlands, a last-ditch plan to save the world.”

He sighed, looking down to his weapon, the sword and sheath forged and fused with Pyrrha’s crown and shield. Proof that she would always be with him.

“I can’t help but wonder if this was how you felt.” Jaune mused. “Before you kissed me at the tower, decided to face Cinder. You knew you weren’t going to win, but you did it anyway, because you knew you had a responsibility to try. And now, we’re all doing the same thing.”

Ruby’s plan more than likely wouldn’t work. He knew it, she knew it, everyone knew it. Even if they did get to Ironwood, even if they did get Atlas’ support, they would still be outnumbered and on enemy ground. The Grimm would descend on them in a horde and hundreds of thousands would die, all for a slim chance of killing Caster and claiming the Grail.

But at the same time, as much as he despised it, as much as he wanted to keep those men and women from dying in a battle he wanted to claim as his own, he didn’t have any better ideas. If they didn’t go on the offensive, they’d just be waiting for the Alters to come pick them off one by one. As long as Weiss was alive, Salem could just make more of them to replace any they slew. Assuming they got that lucky.

“Maybe it’s pride,” he wondered. “Not like before, when I thought I needed to do it by myself for it to matter. Gods know I would have died a dozen times over if it weren’t for the others. Sun… he died for me. He died to save me from my mom. Dad nearly got squashed by Gilgamesh and corrupted by Salem. I just want people to stop getting hurt because I’m not good enough to save them on my own. Even the others, I wish they didn’t have to be in danger. Which was mom’s exact reasoning for keeping me from being a huntsman. Guess I’m a hypocrite now.”

“You’re not a hypocrite.”

Jaune’s head shot up. Nora and Ren looked down at him in concern, Mordred standing off to the side with a sympathetic frown.

“Thought you were headed for the arcade.”

“You weren’t following,” Nora explained. “We doubled back.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Ren said.

“You’re not a hypocrite for wanting to keep us safe, Jaune,” Nora assured him. “It’s natural to want to protect your friends. None of us feel good about this plan, or Ruby’s... current attitude. But it’s the best chance we have, as horrible as that is.”

“But those soldiers, even you guys,” Jaune whispered. “You’re going to be walking into hell.”

“So will you,” Ren reminded him. “You, Saber, Ruby, and the rest of the masters and Servants will be there as well, fighting with everything you’ve got for every person on the planet. But you can’t concentrate on the Alters and Salem if you’re being swarmed by Grimm. Even if we can’t kill them all, we can keep them off you. We’ll do our job, so that you can do yours.”

“You’ll die.”

“Maybe. But better to die trying to live than wait around to be killed.”

“We’re with you Jaune,” Nora declared. “Now until the end, whenever that is.”

Jaune grimaced, tears streaking down his eyes. He took one last look of Pyrrha’s statue and rose to his feet, pulling both his teammates into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into their ears. “I never wanted anyone to die for me.”

“No offense, fearless leader,” Nora chuckled. “But just because we know we might kick the bucket, doesn’t mean we’re planning on it. And if we do, it’s not just gonna be for you. It’s our world on the line too.”

Ren nodded his agreement, and the trio separated. They all turned to gaze at the statue of their lost teammate.

“She’s still with us really,” Nora remarked with a hopeful smile. “She’ll always be with us.”

“No, she won’t,” Mordred said. When the huntsmen whirled on her, she shrugged. “What? I’m sorry, my lady, but it’s the truth. You may be inspired by her memory, driven to make sure her death is not in vain, but in the end, dead is dead. She’s gone.”

“Mor-Mor,” Nora moaned. “That’s kind of true, but not metaphorically true. Her spirit is—”

“Her spirit is in Akasha,” Mordred responded dully. “Hell, she’s probably already reincarnated. The Pyrrha Nikos you want is gone. And if any of you die, you’ll be gone too. So quit talking about dying already.”

Nora recoiled, confused. Ren pulled her comfortingly into his chest.

Jaune raised an eyebrow in confusion. Something was off, and it wasn’t just that Mordred was arguing with Nora. Just as she had been when she confessed to his sisters in Mistral, the Knight of Treachery was… subdued. No, resigned. She was resigned to something to their defeat like… like Ruby.

“Hey, you guys get started for the grocery, okay?” he asked Ren and Nora. “I think we need to talk.”

Nora looked back and forth between the two sons of Arturia. “Are you sure?”

Jaune nodded. His friends scowled in displeasure but exited the park, leaving their leader alone with his Servant.

“You don’t think we can win,” he accused. “You think Salem has us beat.”

“I’m the Knight of Rebellion. I thrive when someone’s ‘got me beat’,” Mordred declared, though it was far too matter-of-fact to be considered one of her usual boasts. “I just don’t want any of you morons glorifying what’s coming. Dying for a cause sounds nice, but it’s the same as any other kind of dying- messy, bloody, and thoroughly unpleasant. And this time, there won’t be any of that ‘take up my sword’ crap that Taurus or Archer pulled.”

“Then we’ll just have to win,” Jaune said. “Somehow, we’ll win, and hopefully get as many people out as we can. It’ll be a new world.”

“A new world…” Mordred muttered. “Yes, I suppose it will be. With the Grimmlands gone, the monsters will stop reproducing. With how many there are, it’ll take humanity a while to notice, but eventually, they’ll kill enough to realize their greatest enemy is beaten. And then the real chaos will start.”

“Huh?” Jaune cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean? The Grimm will be gone. The greatest threat to humanity—”

“Has always been itself,” Mordred pointed out. “I’ve lived in a time without Grimm, and all it meant was that humans slaughtered each other in even greater droves. Hell, even with the Grimm the kingdoms have fought the Great War, the Faunus Wars, and who knows what else. Everything won’t be magically fixed once Salem is gone and with Vale and Mistral still crippled and Atlas’ army looking to get quite the downsizing, what do you think is going to happen?”

“Well, um,” Jaune stuttered. His thoughts hadn’t really passed stopping the apocalypse and hopefully saving his mother. “Everybody will be weak, except Vacuo I mean, and they usually keep to themselves. So… since everybody will be weak… they’ll all help each other?”

Mordred sighed and shook her head. “You are incredibly naïve. No, they won’t all help each other, not on their own. When people are weak, they get scared, and when people are scared, they’ll follow anyone who can make them feel not scared. And nine times out of ten, do you know what kind of people those are?”

“Kind and reasonable?”

“Tyrants,” the Knight of Treachery declared bitterly. “And assuming that Rider doesn’t have his way, will you take the reins to make sure that doesn’t happen?”

“Wait, what?” Jaune gaped. “What are you talking about? I’m not a politician or a military leader. Heck, technically I’m not even a licensed huntsman. I’m eighteen years old, why would anyone ever follow me?”

Mordred shrugged. “Who knows? They might not right now. But one day, they might. Pyrrha believed in you as her leader and father thought you had the potential to be a king one day. Perhaps that potential will blossom, if you want it to.”

Jaune’s eyes narrowed. Did he want it to? He’d never sought out to be a leader, he’d just wanted to be a huntsman. Ozpin putting him in charge of his team was a massive surprise. And even after that, he’d never really felt like he fit in the role. Sure he’d made due, he couldn’t afford to let the others down, but he’d never felt like he’d had that spark that Ruby did, the spark that let her, or had let her at last, inspire people, light the fires of hope within the blackest pits of hell, move forward in the face of oblivion.

He knew how to direct people in the short term, but he had no grand vision. He could work with his friends, but otherwise? He was hardly a peacemaker. His friends were the amazing ones, the ones with the will and the drive to change the world. He was a just a menagerie of skills and tricks he’d picked up along the way, from them, to stand beside them, to protect them.

“I don’t want to be a king,” he declared. “I don’t think it would suit me either.”

“Really?” Mordred inquired. “How so? Father thought you could be.”

“Could have been,” Jaune corrected. “But that ship has long sailed. I’ve been selfish for a long time, and I don’t plan to stop if I don’t have to. I didn’t go to Beacon to save the world, I went to become a huntsman. My friends, their will, their dreams for a better world, they inspired me to embrace what that truly means. To do whatever I can to protect people. They’d make far better kings than me.”

Mordred gazed to the side, her brow furrowed. “So what will you do? Be their knight?”

Jaune shrugged, casting a glance towards the statue of Milo, his hand brushing the real thing’s metal now laced in Crocea Mors, its noble legacy living on through history.

“The sword is strongest as a shield. You taught me that,” he declared, casting a beaming smile to his sibling. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll be their shield, protecting their dreams for the future. Because I’m selfish, and I don’t want to give any of them up.”

“How paradoxically noble and avaricious,” Mordred groaned. “Very well, I wish you the best, master. I’ll just have to handle the rest.”

Jaune smirked. “You planning on becoming king of Remnant, Mordred?”

The Knight of Treachery whirled on him, a livid scowl plastered on her face. “Do not insult me such, master. We both know exactly who is deserved. The coming of a new world means a new age to be forged, an age that, given the perfect ruler, will blossom into mankind’s utopia.”

“Utopia—wait, you’re not talking about—”

“You and your sisters want father back,” Mordred growled. “And should the opportunity arise safely, I should see that both your family and this world get exactly who you deserve…”

“Mordred, stop,” Jaune commanded. “I know you promised Amber you’d revive mom, but what about your dream? What about Caliburn and proving your worth and—”

“There’s something approaching the city,” Mordred informed him urgently, her head suddenly ramrod straight. “It’s fast, powerful, and packing more _prana_ then I’ve felt since father.”

“What?” Jaune shouted, reluctantly discarding their previous discussion thread. “How soon will it be here?”

“Soon. It’s not headed for us, but at its current speed, it won’t be long before it reaches… the military base.”

Jaune’s eyes widened, his hand already shooting past Crocea Mors and Avalon to wrench his scroll from his pocket. Mordred took the same time to armor up dissipate into spirit form, moving fast to aid their endangered allies.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

_Judging the concept of creation._

_Hypothesizing the basic structure._

_Duplicating the composition material._

_Imitating the skill of its making._

_Sympathizing with the experience of its growth._

_Reproducing the accumulated years._

_Excelling every manufacturing process._

Ruby bit down as her aura sparked crimson, the knives under her skin all lashing out at once, her mind spasming as an entire armory ran her through all over. She rode out the agony, forcing her power to coalesce into a series of turquoise notes that surged into the form of Crescent Rose, a projection of an Origin Round cocked inside the chamber. The huntress broke her concentration and let out a pained sigh.

She’d been getting better at tracing over the course of their stay at Argus, but it still wasn’t enough. While she could create her old signature weapon without too much trouble, her new preferred ammunition was another matter. Similar to Rulebreaker, the Origin Rounds were made to destroy magecraft, so recreating them through those same means meant one had to be careful. She needed to take a moment to run through all the steps perfectly and such a commodity was rare on the battlefield. She supposed could make a few before the fight started, but even that required knowing _when_ the battle would begin, again, not something she could count on.

She wouldn’t be pulling an Archer anytime soon. Putting aside the fact that she amplified her constant pain whenever she triggered the Reality Marble, her uncle had simply been far better suited to its use. Her differing origin may have allowed her slightly more variety to what she could trace, but it also lost her the _prana_ discount that his specialization in bladed weapons granted him. And since her aura was far less potent than his Rank B Mana, and occupied with protecting her in combat, it was an advantage she could have dearly used. Common bullets wouldn’t be an issue and she’d be able to make a few extra copies of Crescent Rose if she needed to, but the necessary energy moderation would make it difficult to conjure one of her few Noble Phantasms in a timely fashion.

Still, it was more than she’d had before. One more tool to spit in Salem’s eye with.

“You’re getting better at that,” Kiritsugu complemented her. “Structural Analysis is one of the most basic of magecrafts, but it is still magecraft. I didn’t expect you to catch onto my lessons so quickly.”

Ruby dispersed her weapon into wandering sparks and sighed. “Unlimited Bladeworks makes it easier and I’ve known Crescent Rose inside and out since I built it. Besides, I’m motivated.”

Assassin raised an eyebrow. “Motivated by what, if I may ask, master?”

“Does it really matter, Assassin?”

“Yes.”

Ruby chuckled. “I thought you said that only what I do matters.”

“That also includes how and why you do it,” Kiritsugu replied. “And that is crucial for both your own health and theirs.”

He gestured to the others, who sat around a campfire in their small conclave of tents. Team JNPR were out on a food run, but the others had settled down to a game of cards while they waited for Ironwood. As for the deck, Vernal had brought it back from her barfight crawl, so it was probably stolen.

“How the fuck do you keep getting these hands?” the bandit raged at a grinning Iskandar, who eagerly collected a pile of lien. “First you get a full house, then a royal flush, then a _royal straight flush!_ You have to be cheating!”

“The King of Conquerors needs not cheat!” Rider yelled bombastically. “For in all his endeavors, he rides forth proudly, boldly towards everlasting victory—”

“He has literal supernatural luck,” Yang moaned, who’d wisely folded every round. “Rank A+, specifically.”

Iskandar chuckled somewhat sheepishly. Vernal glared at him before disgruntledly slumping back to her seat.

“Didn’t you live with a Servant for over a decade?” Blake pointed out. “How do you not know this?”

“Raven didn’t see much use in explaining the specifics beyond “Don’t be a moron and piss them off”,” the bandit pouted. “Also, Lancelot never played poker.”

“No, I don’t imagine he would’ve,” Ilia snarked. “What with the whole insanity thing and all.”

Ruby turned back to her grandfather. “You think my motive is going to keep them from gambling?”

“We both know that’s not what this is about,” Kiritsugu said. “Your return may have gotten the group this far, but there’s a big difference between talking about going into hell and actually doing it with any chance of victory.”

“We don’t have any chance at victory. Not any real chance at least,” Ruby reminded him. “We’re just pressing on because it’s better than waiting around to die. And to at least tear Salem a new one before it’s all over.”

“So… spite then,” Kiritsugu surmised. “You’re fighting for spite.”

“Sure. Whatever works. Though some would call it defiance.”

“Defiance is standing up when odds are against you and doing everything you can to win,” Assassin told her. “Spite is knowing you’re going to lose and making the other side hurt for it. It’s petty.”

Ruby shrugged. “I can think of more than a few cases where it wasn’t.”

“But it is insufficient,” Kiritsugu growled frustratedly, whirling on his master. “It doesn’t matter if you hurt Salem along the way unless you stop her, because otherwise she will control the world and whatever damage you dealt will be inconsequential. You need to think bigger.”

“How?” Ruby demanded. “What am I supposed to do, huh? Listen to you and Diarmuid argue for another hour about honor and pragmatism? I’m doing what I can. Do you have any real suggestions?”

Kiritsugu opened his mouth, but closed it again, scowling to the side.

Ruby’s shoulders fell as she sighed in despair. She could have used one of those suggestions. It wasn’t as if she liked being driven like she was, driving everyone how she was. But how was she supposed to give them hope if she didn’t have any herself?

“I had a daughter once,” Kiritsugu suddenly stated. “Before your mother, before Shirou, she was my first child. Her name was Illya.”

“Illya…” Ruby murmured. “I think Archer may have mentioned her once, but I don’t remember. Don’t suppose she’s in the Throne too, eh?”

“One can count on a single hand the number of familial pairs that have entered the Throne. To think that three from the same family, let alone within two generations of each other would make it, is outrageously unlikely,” Kiritsugu declared. He sighed immediately after. “But then again, there are near limitless timelines and I can’t say it would be the most impossible thing I’ve seen.”

“Cool. Any reason you mentioned her?” Ruby remarked. She was glad to know that she had more family somewhere out there in the multiverse, but she couldn’t see how it was relevant to the current conversation.

“Because before Angra Mainyu used manipulation to secure a wish from me, it tried to ask directly,” Kiritsugu revealed. “It swallowed me in a realm of its own design, showing me the limitless carnage that would be extracted if it would grant my wish for salvation. But it tried to disguise the cause. The Grail is just a mass of power, capable of doing almost anything, but it requires that the user supply a method for accomplishing their desire. Angra Mainyu showed me a vision where it feigned that the casualties brought about by its ascension were by the natural application of my own philosophy.”

“So it tried to trick you,” Ruby snipped. “I fail to see what this has to do with Aunt Illya.”

Kiritsugu sighed, facepalming. “I was getting to that. Angra Mainyu, despite its nature, refrains from lying. It will twist words, imply double meanings, but never outright lie. What it showed me was the truth. My methods of saving the world, if brought to their natural conclusion, what have slaughtered countless people. While killing the few to save the many may need to be done in the short term, in the long term it will save no one, for the many will always be in danger again and they will become less and less as the fewer are purged. And if the me from before I knew Illya and her mother, Iri, had been there, I honestly don’t know if I could have rejected the vision.”

“What?” Ruby gasped. “Why would you ever… you set out to save people, didn’t you? Why would you ever accept—”

“Because before that, when I was just fighting for ideals and not people, essentially a Counter Guardian already, I would have been crushed. The Grail was my one chance to make my dream a reality and with its failure, there would have been no hope,” Kiritsugu declared. “But because I had Illya, because I knew that the world I wanted to make, the world where no one cried, was _for her_ , I managed to reject the illusion no matter… no matter what it took.”

Ruby’s eyes widened, catching sight of the glimmer of a tear streaming down Assassin’s cheek before he brushed it away before she could comment on it. She’d only seen her grandfather cry when something involved Archer. What exactly had he done to do the right thing and escape Angra Mainyu’s illusion?

“If you are to win this war, not just fight but win, you cannot be focused on what you want to do _to_ Salem, but on the life you want to provide _for_ the people you care about,” Kiritsugu pressed on. “That is the only way you’ll have a chance. Otherwise, you’ll stay as you are, hollow.”

“Like Uncle Shirou,” Ruby whispered. “I didn’t understand it at the time, but this, how I’m feeling, this is how he was. He hated the idea of heroes of justice, of trying to save people. But not because he hated them, but because he couldn’t figure out a way to save without killing others. The one thing he could find happiness in, helping people, also required that he hurt them. And because saving them was the point, because there wasn’t any other reason…”

A revelation rang through her mind, one she felt she should have understood before. Uncle Shirou could only get joy from helping other people, nothing else. Just like Kirei was only happy when others suffered. They were the only things that gave meaning to their lives, their only reasons to live. They were dark mirrors of each other, equal and opposite in all their determination. Which meant that…

“We haven’t seen the last of Kirei,” she murmured. “I don’t know how, but even if it goes against Gilgamesh’s agenda, he’ll find a way to come for us.”

Kiritsugu nodded. “He’s coming for the two of us. He told me it brings him _joy_ to make anyone suffer but for some reason he finds me and you to be especially interesting to inflict his evil upon.”

“He has pretty much been trying to turn me into you this entire time,” Ruby growled, though she raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Evil? He told you he inflicted evil?”

“Yes, he monologued quite a bit about it,” Kiritsugu matched her brow. “Why?”

“Nothing. He definitely is evil, he chose it,” Ruby quickly said. “It’s just… well… something Uncle Qrow once told me. He said that people rarely think of their own reasons as wrong. Even if they do things they don’t like, it’s always to further a cause they see as just. Kirei finds joy in hurting others, but if that’s the case, why would he see it as wrong?”

“He wouldn’t—”

Kiritsugu’s mouth froze and closed, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

“Is everything okay?” Ruby asked.

“I’m not sure,” Kiritsugu confessed. “But I think… I think I’m finally starting to understand him.”

Ruby sighed. “Well, when you figure it all out, let me know. Even if he doesn’t have the Contender anymore, I don’t fancy my odds against him. A bit more understanding might help.”

“I will,” Kiritsugu promised. “But what about you? Will you fight for your friends instead of to defeat Salem?”

“Will it really make any difference?” Ruby asked. “I mean, I can’t beat her alone. A life for a life, that’s how saving people works. Even if, hypothetically speaking, we had a chance in hell of stopping her and her forces, how could we do it without all of us dying the process if I bring them along?”

“You said you found an alternative answer, one that gave you and Archer hope,” Kiritsugu reminded her. “Don’t give up on it yet. Even if it didn’t work out at Haven, that doesn’t mean it is without merit. You save who you can, and the rest of us will save who we can, and they will in turn do the same.”

“Will that be enough, in the end?”

“It will have to be. It’s the best we’ve got.”

Ruby found she couldn’t draw much encouragement from that. What could they save? They kept losing more and more and more and there was no end in sight. How could they possibly prevail when they’d be chipped away to nothingness?

“Everyone get down!” Diarmuid suddenly yelled, leaping to his feet and drawing his spears, maneuvering himself in front of Blake, Ilia, and Yang. “We’ve got incoming.”

The mountain within the military base shuddered, the walls of stone falling away. Slowly, bit by bit, the rock and dust fell away, replaced with dull, thick, metal.

Ilia’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Vernal moaned.

Iskandar raised an eyebrow at Lancer. “Is that what you sensed?”

“No,” Diarmuid shook his head, though he looked quizzically at the new arrival. “What I sensed was farther off, closing fast, but far off. This… this is new.”

“Indeed,” Rider nodded. “I will need several for my army.”

Ruby couldn’t help but agree that such a thing would be useful to their upcoming war, even if she had no idea where Atlas had gotten a combat mech the size of a mountain. The robot looked like a super-sized version of a Paladin, except its right arm was a single giant cannon.

“Insolent fools!” the familiar, screeching voice of Caroline Cordovin screeched from within, blasted out through speakers. “You dare mock the military glory of Atlas! You dare attempt to subvert my authority with your trespassing! You will be a reminder of the greatest will and rule across all Remnant, and the consequences of rebelling against it!”

“She does know that Atlas doesn’t rule the world, right?” Blake inquired. “I mean, yeah, we probably shouldn’t have camped on her doorstep, but we’re technically still in a Mistralian city.”

“Atlas rarely cares about little things like the sovereignty of other kingdoms,” Ilia growled.

“But you’d think she wouldn’t jump straight to the giant robot,” Vernal remarked. “It looks freaking awesome, but how much energy does that thing use up? She’s going to waste all that just to try to kill us?”

“Oh, come on,” Yang replied. “She’s not gonna try to kill us—”

“Specialist Schnee is on her way to deal with you barbarous lot!” Cordovin interrupted. “But I see no reason to trouble such a wonderous and efficient officer with such disgusting grunt work. Therefore, I shall annihilate you myself!”

Yang paused with a flat look on her face as Vernal smirked. She turned to her Servant. “How long will it take you to dust that hunk of junk? A minute? Tops?”

Iskandar nodded. “Its size might be somewhat troublesome, but as long as it doesn’t regenerate, it shouldn’t be any great hurdle.”

A bolt of crimson lightning rushed passed them all, the armored figure upon it smashing head-on into the mech, its thick metal chest plate crumpling like paper.

“Ha! See? Saber dealt with it easily enough.”

Mordred screeched back to them, Cordovin screeching madly over the speakers as the mech collapsed into the base. Ruby was grateful that there had only been a skeleton crew, otherwise there would have doubtlessly been quite a few casualties from the robot’s fall. It wouldn’t help their talks with Ironwood if they’d killed any of his men, even in self-defense.

“Is it here yet?” the Knight of Treachery demanded.

“You sensed that power too?” Diarmuid confirmed, twirling his weapons towards the open ocean. “No, but it’s nearly—”

He was interrupted by an enormous beam of emerald energy scorching in from the sky. The Knight of Fianna thrust Gae Dearg forward into the blast, his crimson spear valiantly halting the assault in a shower of green and scarlet sparks. Unfortunately, the force of the shot was still too much and he was thrown across the walkway, forced to plunge his shorter spear into the concrete to avoid getting thrown off.

Ruby’s eyes widened on the horizon, the fast-approaching figure entering her range of vision. Flying through the sky was a lithe figure, adorned in grey armor with glowing green lines streaking down them, a long braid of orange hair tied down the back of her hair. Her face was hidden by a blank steel mask. Hovering behind her were eight blades of blazing emerald plasma.

In an instant, she had arrived, standing right in front of the fully armored Mordred.

“Servant identification: failed,” the figure stated robotically. “Known causes: For Someone’s Glory. Resolution: Lancelot.”

“What did you just call me—argh!”

Mordred dashed back as half of the plasma blades came down on her. She sparked with crimson lightning and Clarent slashed out at the figure, only for the demonic sword to be caught on the other half of green flames, flashing through the air without a hand to guide them.

Iskandar rushed behind the new arrival, his cavalry saber slicing for their head. The figure didn’t even look at him as the plasma they’d initially swung at Mordred rose to intercept the strike.

With all their weapons occupied in defense however, they had no more protection when a recovered Diarmuid appeared at their side and thrust forward with both his spears. The armored warrior was forced to pull back and disengage, retreating down the walkway.

“Servant identification: Lancer- Diarmuid Ua Duibhne,” the figure emotionlessly proclaimed. “Servant identification: Rider- Iskandar of Macedonia.”

“King Iskandar of Macedonia,” Rider corrected, his crimson eyes excited at the new arrival. “And who might you be, stranger? It’s not many who can survive an assault by three Heroic Spirits.”

“Obviously a fool,” Mordred growled. “To think that I was _Lancelot_.”

The figure ignored Mordred’s insult, their head turning to examine the other occupants of the bridge. “Error: Target- Raven Branwen is not present. Atlas personal in danger.”

The air behind the figure blurred and Kiritsugu materialized, his Contender aimed at the back of their attacker’s head. “To be fair, they attacked us.”

A pair of plasma blades instantly turned on him, but it was clear that they’d never reach him before he pulled the trigger.

Ruby stared at their assailant. There was something familiar about the color scheme of the armor, the styling of the dress. It was plain but effective. Definitely Atlas built. Almost like…

No. It couldn’t be.

A bullhead descended from the clouds, its engines roaring as it hovered above the water. A series of intricate glyphs sprouted from vehicle to the walkway. Ruby saw the rest of the group tense but kept herself from springing into action once she saw they were snow white, not hellish black.

Their conjurer rode down from the sky, coming to stand on the concrete, back ramrod straight and posture poised and ready as always.

“Stand down, Ruler,” Winter Schnee commanded. “It seems we have not found who we’d thought to.”

“As you command, specialist,” the assailant declared, immediately silencing the floating plasma blades, leaving only small nubs of metal that Ruby hadn’t seen before. The tiny emitters proceeded to float back into the warrior’s armor.

Winter then gave their entire group a cold overview. A few months ago, Ruby would have thought her to be trying to intimidate them but after spending so much time around Archer, she could tell Winter knew she was outmatched. She just knew it would do her no good to show it.

“Assassin,” Ruby called openly. Weiss’ sister was likely Ironwood’s emissary. They had to put her at ease if they were going to make any progress her.

“Are you sure, master?” Kiritsugu inquired.

“I’m sure,” she confirmed. “We’re among friends.”

Kiritsugu nodded and rescinded his gun, blurring back to her side an instant later.

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Well, Ruby Rose, I see you’ve changed quite a bit since we last saw each other.” The operative glanced back at the newly made ruins of the mech and base. “If it helps, Cordovin acted against orders. I told her I would handle the situation, and I suppose she became… overzealous.”

“Overzealous?” Ilia growled.

“Just a bit,” Ruby snarked, trying to move along and keep any Atlas Specialist-White Fang Operative tension from breaking out. “I take it by your friend’s little show that you know about the Holy Grail War.”

“I do. I thought to engage Raven Branwen here,” Winter confirmed, once more glancing about their group. “Though, four Servants was certainly… unexpected.”

“Sorry about that. Raven’s code was the only thing we could think of to get your attention,” Ruby confessed. “We need to talk to Ironwood. The fate of the world depends on it.”

“I imagine. That seems to be a common stake these days,” Winter sighed. “Very well. I can’t promise any help once we get to Atlas, but I can provide you clearance and transport.”

“Thanks, but we only need the clearance,” Ruby informed her. “Rider and Saber handle our transportation.”

“Rider, Saber, Assassin,” Winter spotted Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe and narrowed her eyes. “And Lancer. Quite impressive.”

“We could say the same about you,” Kiritsugu noted, nodding his head to their earlier opponent. “A Ruler shouldn’t have been able to be summoned to this war, and even if they were, they’re not usually ones for alliances.”

Winter cringed. “Yes, that. That is… a complex matter.”

“Specialist, if I may?” the warrior asked. “I believe I have a way to help set our new companions at ease.”

Winter considered it a moment but soon nodded. The mask over the warrior split in two and disappeared in a flash of light, revealing her face.

Despite herself, Ruby gasped, as did Blake and Yang. The cheeks were slightly higher, nobler and one eye was amethyst, but the other was the same cool forest green she remembered, the patches of innocent freckles still present on each side. The playful, childlike cheer was absent, replaced by a matter-of-fact, serious demeanor. Yet, somehow, she had no doubt who it was.

“Penny?”

The girl with the visage of her fallen robot friend raised an eyebrow. “Penny? You mistake me for the previous model, P-1, Ruby Rose. I am P-2, False Ruler.”


	70. The Path to Salvation

_‘Is everything in place?’_ Emerald inquired telepathically. They couldn’t risk this talk being overheard by any passing Seer Grimm.

 _“It is, master,”_ Caster confirmed. _“I have been claiming the castle as my territory since I was summoned. Salem is aware of such being the standard tactic of my class, and thus it has not aroused her suspicions. And my limited control over such space has allowed me to hide some basic glyphs from her, even in her own world.”_

Emerald nodded. _‘So, all we have to do is take a bullhead and go? They’ll provide enough distraction for us to get away?’_

_“With any luck, master. I’ll do what I can to cloak our craft as well, but until we leave the Grimmlands, I can’t say for sure we’ll be safe.”_

Emerald gulped. Salem’s watch over her Reality Marble wasn’t perfect, it was an entire world after all, but she did for the most part have a sense of where beings of significant power generally were within her domain. Caster had been exceedingly careful hiding her glyphs over the past few months, but even if they did give them enough of a head start to escape the near endless horde of Grimm that would surely be sent after them, they’d still be on the run. The Mother of Grimm had minions on every continent on the planet. It was hardly an optimal solution.

But there was no way in hell Emerald was staying. She’d seen what becoming an Alter had done to Weiss and she had no intention of becoming one with All the World’s Evils. She was involved in enough craziness as it was, and even if Salem did honestly think she was doing her a favor by dumping her and the rest of the world into the mud and removing their ‘hypocritical desire to be good’, Emerald would prefer not to be anyone’s pet psycho.

Leaving and hiding in one of the kingdoms would be their best option. Between her illusions and Caster’s magic, they could pretty much rule whatever place they ended up in from the shadows. Hell, if they were lucky, Salem might kill all the other Servants for them and the Grail would default to them, then they could use the chalice to bring back Cinder and… kill Salem… and then, with the war over, Caster would disappear.

Emerald suddenly wasn’t as fond of that outcome. She didn’t want to lose Medea.

Then again, she was getting ahead of herself. One of those wishes was Caster’s and she had neither the desire nor the ability to make her use it for anything she didn’t want to. Which meant she needed to choose what was more important: eliminating the threat Salem posed to her or reviving the person who gave her more than she could have ever imagined.

…

She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. At the very least, she would avenge Cinder if she could not save her.

For now, she still needed to escape. She and Caster marched down the long staircase to the bullhead platform, a large plateau that shot off the castle’s eastern side. There were a few different airships of varying models, one native to each kingdom to make infiltration easier, plus a custom model that Watts had been working on. That one being the fastest, it would be the one they’d grab. Caster would structurally analyze it, weed out any extra security precautions the good doctor may have left behind, and then Emerald would hotwire it and blast across the dark sky.

The pair arrived at the black vehicle, Caster quickly slipping to the side and placing her hand upon the aircraft. Bright green lines of magic rapidly spread across the hull.

“Master of Caster.”

Shit.

Emerald whirled around, her head shooting up at the towering figure of Rider Alter. The behemoth’s onyx eyes and black flesh stared pitilessly upon the young thief and her Servant.

_‘Any ideas?’_

_“Stall him,”_ Caster advised urgently. _“I will be done in less than a moment, but we can’t let him know we’re doing anything unusual.”_

_‘Great. Just great.’_

“Hey, Rider,” Emerald greeted, putting as much faux cheer and real nervousness into her wave as possible. “What’s up? Caster and I are just doing some maintenance on the bullheads, making sure everything’s ready in case the Queen sends us out for anything.”

Rider snorted. “Your toil speaks well of you, but it is unlikely you will see combat again.”

“What do you mean?” Emerald inquired, cocking an eyebrow as Caster removed her hand from the bullhead. “What reason could Salem have for doubting me?”

“None,” Darius declared. “I mean no disrespect. But now that our enemies know your identity, it would be unwise to allow either you or your Servant to leave this place. If the enemy remains on the defensive, they will have no way to get to you and win the war. And if they prove so brave as to attempt to invade this sanctuary, as Iskandar doubtlessly will in time, then you will have the benefit of the Queen’s fortifications.”

“Wonderful,” Emerald snarked. It seemed they really did need to escape quickly before Salem had every Seer in the palace following her every move. “Did you come all the way down here just to let us know that?”

“Not at all. The Queen merely requests your presence in the throne room,” Rider informed them. “We have a guest that is sure to lead to trouble. Our liege wants all hands at the ready in case matters descend into violence.”

“Great,” Emerald nodded, trying to make him go away as soon as possible. “We’ll be right there.”

Rider scoffed. “Don’t dawdle too long. You should know better than most, the fate of those who underestimate the King of Heroes and his master.”

King of Heroes and his… wait a minute.

“Kirei’s here?” Emerald demanded, her face descending into a feral scowl. Her fingers itched towards her kama.

Rider nodded. “He has arrived as his master’s emissary. The Queen tends to him personally at the moment, but it is only a matter of time before The King of Heroes arrives. We must all be prepared.”

“That we must,” Emerald concurred darkly.

Rider raised an eyebrow at her sudden tone shift but, in the end, merely shrugged. He turned and marched back to the castle.

 _“Well done, master,”_ Caster congratulated her. _“With Salem’s focus on Kotomine, we may not even need the glyphs—”_

 _‘We aren’t leaving this tower until that bastard is in the ground,’_ Emerald declared. She stomped after Rider Alter without another word, Caster sputtering in shock behind her.

Kirei killed Cinder. He manipulated her hopes and dreams, fattened her up like a pig for him to slaughter. And now Salem was going to _negotiate_ with him? No way.

The bastard had beaten her at Haven, but she had Caster with her now. And if Salem was just playing him as bait in a trap for Gilgamesh, even better. Either way, the smirking priest wouldn’t leave the Grimmlands alive.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Kirei felt like he had both walked into hell and finally come home after a long spell away. It probably said something about him that he related the two as such but for now he could think of little else.

His time in the Grimmlands had been brief during the last war, the area had a strange effect similar to Ozpin’s bounded field from Beacon, the very air fighting against any alteration of reality, including the Gate of Babylon’s portals. If he had not been able to supply Gilgamesh with additional power, the King of Heroes would have had a much more difficult time of it. Yet even then, in the confines of such a dark and wretched realm, a location that spawned the creatures of Grimm, he felt… at peace, truly and utterly.

The prick within him, the torment that reared its head to taint even his most euphoric joy, raged at this, and indeed, the priest found the rest of him unsettled in turn. He was a monster, a craven beast who only found entertainment in the suffering of others. There should be no den where he found absolution.

And yet, in the domain of the demonically elegant creature before him, he had.

“Would you like any refreshment?” Salem inquired, her gentle, accommodating tone at odds with the ruinous hellscape outside her castle. Kirei’s eyes narrowed over her, his semblance seeking to comprehend her as a mass of black tentacles rived beneath her long black gown.

“No thank you,” he politely declined, wary of the on-guard Saber Alter watching his every move, her hand glued to the tainted sword at her side, her glare hidden only by her black mask. “My associate wishes to conclude this matter as quickly as possible.”

“Ah, yes, the King of Heroes,” Salem sneered to the side. “And tell me, why has Gilgamesh not seen fit to grace us with his _marvelous_ presence?”

“To improve the chances of this meeting being beneficial for us both,” Kirei explained. He gestured to the blackened King of Knights. “As I’m sure you are already aware, Gilgamesh has more than a little… distaste for you and what you have done with the majority of heroes under your command. It was quite difficult to convince him of the necessity of this endeavor and he seeks to minimize his appearance in your presence, both for his own desires and to avoid stretching his temper too thin.”

Saber Alter scoffed. “He insults both us and himself. To let one’s childish urges overcome respectful procedure, pathetic.”

Kirei wouldn’t go that far, but he could understand the King of Knights’ opinion. She came from a trained background of political negotiations and sending a pawn like him to meet with a king was nonetheless an insult, as if he was all that was required.

Salem didn’t seem too bothered by the implication, however. “It would be rather difficult to discuss matters like civilized people if we were all hopping around the Gate of Babylon though,” she waved off. “Besides, I find you far more interesting, Kirei Kotomine.”

“I’m flattered,” he duly replied, confounded by the identification his semblance had at last supplied for Salem. How could that have been possible? “Though, I assure you. I am far from an intriguing man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t have revived you otherwise.”

Kirei lifted an eyebrow. “Pardon, but I don’t—”

But he did. He still remembered it vividly, all these years later. His climatic battle with Kiritsugu cut short, kneeling in a pool of black mud, his nemesis’ pistol at his back. The roar of the Contender and the sudden deflation of his heart being utterly obliterated as everything went dark.

And then waking up in a village on fire, blood somehow still pumping through his veins, as innocents screamed all around him and his new, black heart failed to beat.

“Angra Mainyu,” he whispered reverently.

Salem scowled, her fists clenching at her side. “I advise you not to refer to me as _that name_.”

“My apologies,” Kirei bowed slightly. “I meant no offense.”

“I know. It is the only reason you still breathe,” the witch declared.

She waved her hand and a pair of Beringals trudged into the room, a long stone table between them. They casually set it down before the throne, along with another chair opposite the black seat. The Queen of the Grimm sat upon her dais, Saber Alter marching obediently to her side. Kirei thought it prudent to claim the empty chair.

“Now then, I suppose we might as well begin the actual negotiations,” Salem mused. “What do you want? If it is assistance in the matter of Ea, I can assure you I have only theories.”

“That may be,” Kirei declared, glad he could be candid about his objective. “But an item in our possession can provide the answers we seek, with the proper assistance.”

“The answers Gilgamesh seeks. Do not needlessly bind yourself to his whims,” Salem advised. “And judging by the mess you left behind at Haven, I assume this item to be the Relic of Knowledge. Has he butchered Raven Branwen already?”

“No, he has been remarkably restrained in that matter,” Kirei informed her. “However, she is proving quite resilient, to both interrogation and any attempts to get her to light the lamp.”

“Forcing you to seek out an alternative,” Salem smiled. “And with two of the maidens’ already dead at your own hand, you come to me.”

Kirei nodded. “Our terms are simple. Assist us in retrieving Ea’s location from the Relic, and in return, you may keep it as payment.”

Saber Alter clutched her blade ever tighter, her head tilting ever so slightly at her master. Kirei supposed it was only natural. Once Gilgamesh retrieved the Sword of Rupture, he would no doubt exterminate her family before he made to finally leave this dimension.

Except it wasn’t extreme enough. According to Gilgamesh’s account, she had willingly allied with Mordred, the one who killed her in life, to protect her children from the King of Heroes. He witnessed how intensely protective of her son she was on multiple occasions. So why was she reacting so minutely to the prospect of them possibly being in more danger than ever? Did she believe that Salem could protect her offspring? No, that wasn’t it. As she was, the Queen of the Grimm could not leave her Reality Marble, and though her Alters were powerful, Kirei had seen nothing that would lead him to believe they could defeat Gilgamesh without circumstantial assistance. So, what bestowed her confidence in her master?

“A very generous offer,” Salem complimented. “I can very easily light the lamp to show Gilgamesh the truth he desires, if he is willing to tolerate my presence.”

“So long as you are useful, he will have to,” Kirei responded. “He won’t be happy about it, but retrieving his treasure means more to him than erasing your ‘stain’. Though, do not think that he is foolish enough to place himself at your mercy in the Relic. You could very easily alter the light you provide the lamp to put him through the same experience as Ms. Xiao-Long.”

“I could,” she admitted with a playful smirk. “Do you not trust me to keep my word?”

“You are All the World’s Evils.”

“I am. But I do not make promises I don’t plan to keep.”

Kirei chuckled. “Nevertheless, I shall be the one gazing into the Relic. If you do anything that implies you will not live up to your end of the bargain, Gilgamesh will annihilate you, even if you do succeed in killing me.”

“Kill you? Why Kirei, I am offended,” Salem joked. “I don’t bring people back from the dead who I plan to kill anyway.”

“Forgive me, but you hardly lack motive,” Kirei pointed out. “You are far from the King of Heroes’ biggest fan, and we did circumvent your operation at Beacon.”

The dark queen’s smile fell, a morose, regretful frown appearing on her lips. “Yes, Cinder. She was so brilliant when we first met, so cunning, so ripe and ravenous for power. She was part of a pack of orphans Watts had brought here for his experiments, but she managed to use her semblance to break out of her cell, fought all the way to where we sit now. It was impressive, her will to survive, to thrive and rise to be feared. When I told her of the maidens, her smile couldn’t have been wider.”

Salem sighed and sank back into her throne. “She had so much promise. I’d hoped she would be here at the end, to receive the power she’d earned in my new world.”

Kirei cocked an eyebrow. “You are aware that I struck the blow that killed her, correct? And yet you say you have no desire to kill me?”

Instead of answering him, Salem turned to the King of Knights. “Tell me, Arturia dear, who do you blame for the rebellion that ended your reign, your son who led the uprising or the witch that manipulated him into doing so?”

“The latter, my queen,” Saber Alter dutifully noted. “Though Mordred’s actions were treasonous, their design was wholly Morgana’s.”

Salem nodded sagely. “And there you have it. Cinder’s death was doubtless a tragedy, but I can no more kill you over it than I could Emerald. You were all pawns in someone else’s game.”

Her fist clenched as she finished her sentence. Kirei didn’t need his semblance to understand who she really blamed for Beacon.

“However, speaking of Cinder’s ambitions, might I request something additional in payment?” Salem inquired. “The Spring Maiden powers.”

“I’m afraid that is impossible,” Kirei stated. “Gilgamesh is greatly looking forward to killing Raven Branwen in the most exquisitely painful manner possible. He will not part with her.”

“I am not asking him to. I only desire her powers,” Salem clarified.

“From what I understand, the transfer of a maiden’s powers requires the maiden to die.”

“For a long time, it did,” Salem conceded. “But leaving whether I acquire necessary power to chance would be foolish. It took me centuries, but I long ago managed to create a species of Grimm that can extract Ozpin’s magic from its host _without_ killing them, though it was assumed that would be done afterward. Cinder was actually equipped with one during her attack on her predecessor, but as I understand Qrow Branwen interrupted the process before it could be completed.”

“I see,” Kirei remarked. He did recall a strange, bug-like Grimm that seemed to shoot out from Cinder’s arm during their first encounter, and the story did explain how the near infinite magic of a maiden could be split in two. “I shall check with Gilgamesh. Though, why do you need the power? As I understand, your only use for it would be opening the Spring Vault, a moot point since you will have the Relic.”

Salem grinned. She rose from her throne, waving for him to follow, and walked over to the massive windows, gazing proudly over the ravaged, Grimm infested, landscape beyond. Kirei, thinking it polite, made his way to her side.

“What do you think of my domain, Kirei?” she asked.

Kirei raised an eyebrow at her question. He didn’t think much of locations in general, bar how the terrain could affect a possible battle. But while the people of his world had spoken of the innate majesty of places such as the Grand Canyon, the Great Wall of China, or the Eiffel Tower, he had merely found his feelings towards them to be, as they were towards most things, indifferent. But here, saturated in dark _prana_ , the very essence of evil and sin crawling over him through the air itself…

“It is quite lovely,” he remarked, observing a pair of Wyverns, nearly the size of the dragon from Beacon, race mercilessly through the black canyons below. “There is a purity here that I find to be lacking in most other environments.”

“'Lovely'. There are few who would describe this place as lovely,” Salem sighed. “Indeed, I am surprised the King of Heroes didn’t try to obliterate it the last time he was here.”

“He felt that would be overstepping his bounds,” Kirei informed her. “This is not his world after all.”

“Not his world?” Salem raised an eyebrow, before curiously chuckling softly. “How courteous of him. Still, I believe you understand this place as I do, Kirei. Out there, in the world, through no initial fault of my own, I am a monster. Like you were born as you are, a young villager was plucked from a simple, satisfied life so that humanity could torture and defile them, so All the World’s Evils could be thrust on their head.”

Kirei sneered at that. Suffering was something he loved to indulge in, but the cowardice of blaming others simply because the world was as it was, disgusted him. He did not blame his father or God for the monster he was. It was not their fault. To torture someone simply to have someone to use as a scapegoat was pathetic.

“I believe that was why I was drawn to Kiritsugu at first,” Salem mused. “I was watching the entire proceedings of the war, paying particular attention to whenever a Servant fell. When I investigated Lancer’s demise, I found he and Saber in the midst of a dreadful argument. I was about to dismiss it as entirely irrelevant until he mentioned one little detail. That he would bear gladly All the World’s Evils if it would save the world.”

“Ah,” Kirei noted, everything finally falling into place. “So that was why you offered the Grail to him first.”

The Mother of Grimm sneered. “I offered him more than that. I offered him everything he ever wanted. For one willing to take on the same burden as was forced upon me, but for the sake of others? I would have granted him back his precious Irisviel and he and his family would have been kings in my new world, the glorious haven he would have given rise to. But, at the precipice of greatness, of salvation, he _faltered_. He denied me, betrayed me, attempted to destroy me!”

Kirei took a cautious step as Salem’s gown ruffled wildly, whatever… thing held within its confines riving like a rabid dog.

“He was a slothful child without true resolve,” she hissed. “Save the world? He claimed to want to save the world? He was already doing it long before he met me! Swift, brutal, exacting, to save them all, he needed only to kill them all! But the task was too hard for him, too trying, so he thought to place the burden on my shoulders. Fair enough, it has been my burden for an eon, but to deny even that?!”

Salem suddenly froze, her rant evaporating in a single exhausted sigh. A moment later, her original serene smile had returned. It was somewhat disconcerting how quickly she had shifted.

“No matter,” she dismissed. “He got what he deserved in the end. He slipped at the last moment and I granted his momentary desire for his world to be one where heroes mattered. Not that he got to enjoy it long. My final curse put him to rest soon after he arrived here.”

Kirei wondered if he should have been jealous. After all, the being before him had succeeded in one of his own most fervent endeavors, the complete destruction of Kiritsugu Emiya, mind, body, and soul. He had seen the proof himself amongst the flames when he’d first arrived in Remnant.

But he was distracted by a different detail. Kiritsugu’s wish which, even if some liberties could be taken in the application of, had to be granted, was for _his own_ world to be one where heroes mattered. Which meant Remnant was not an alternate dimension as he and Gilgamesh had believed for decades.

He probably should have been rocked by the revelation, his entire worldview shifted, but honestly, he found it did not matter to him. Ruby, Kiritsugu, the people who mattered most to him were there. It did not matter if it was the future or some alternate present, he was where he wanted to be.

The aspect that concerned him about the revelation was that Gilgamesh didn’t know. The King of Heroes had many times stated his approval of the humanity of Remnant, pushing back against the endless hordes of the Grimm and carving out civilization and order against all odds. If he had known that such a people was his own, and due to his clairvoyance, he should have known, he would have expressed his pride by taking the final step they simply could not. The King wanted to see his people thrive.

“I do not owe nothing to Kiritsugu, however. Nor, I suppose, to Ozpin,” Salem reluctantly expressed, breaking Kirei’s train of thought. “Thanks to their constant interference, I have been given time to… reevaluate my methods. Previously, I had thought to simply bring humanity salvation through annihilation, allow their own sins to consume them. But over the millennia, I have realized that such an execution would be wasteful. I do not hate humanity, simply their lies, their pretensions to goodness. How they indulge in their vices and call it virtue. My Grimm have provided them with a common enemy for longer than their so-called kingdoms have stood, and _still,_ they choose to slaughter each other in pointless wars, debase each other over the most meaningless of traits… their failure is as infuriating as it is useful.”

“Indeed,” Kirei remarked. “However, conflict is intrinsic to humanity’s nature. People grow by challenging and defeating others. Other than extinction, I see no way for any removal of such a characteristic.”

“I do,” Salem grinned. She turned and gestured to Saber Alter. “If All the World’s Evils were All the World.”

“An entire species of Alters?” Kirei mused. “It’s an interesting thought. Assuming you could do it.”

“I can. Soon I shall bring salvation to this sad remnant, one kingdom with my will within all,” Salem pronounced euphorically. “Think of it, Kirei, think of it. A world where all would be allowed to see out their desires to the fullest, without fear of hypocritical judgment. There would be no good to aspire to, and by lack of contrast, no evil. Humanity could simply be what they wish to be, _whatever_ that may be.”

The overture was not subtle. Kirei was fully aware that the Queen was trying to sway him to her side.

That said… he couldn’t say the idea lacked appeal.

For as long as he could remember, his notion of joy, the only thing that granted him satisfaction and fulfillment, was the suffering of others. And for as long as he could remember, he knew that such a black, sinful desire could only make him a monster fit for the deepest pit of hell. For in the beautiful world of God's creation, what could a being who sought only destruction be but a demon? Gilgamesh had helped him come to terms with his existence, to put aside such stifling restraint and indulge himself in his pleasure. He could not change how he was, so what else was there to do?

But… if the world itself could be shifted… if the frame of reference could be altered, the very nature of sin could be challenged. For what law of god could be broken in a world that belonged to the devil? A world where even the blackest creature, even he, would have the right to exist, to live, and to thrive without fault.

For once, it was not a smirk that rose to his lips, but a serene smile. A hope for true peace, something he had long thought out of his reach.

Salem matched his expression. “That is why I need control of the Spring Maiden’s power. I have no objections to Gilgamesh doing whatever he pleases to Raven Branwen, but I cannot allow the chance that such a power could end up in the hands of my enemies and threaten the glorious paradise I will bring about. There are enough threats to my plan already. Some crafty and cunning like Kiritsugu Emiya… and others are more forceful.”

Kirei’s face fell as he understood exactly what the Queen was implying. He supposed Gilgamesh would not permit Salem’s new world to come to pass, especially if he learned the process would require the defecation of his garden. And since either the Relic of Knowledge or the Grail would be required to bring that world about, simply trying to avoid the King of Heroes wasn’t an option. There would be only one course and the Grimmlands’ unique nature made it the optimal place to do what needed to be done. Though, the Gate of Babylon would still be usable if he was there to provide a power boost. It all came down to his choice.

Despite the recent friction since Archer’s death, and the unenviable conclusion it could lead to, Kirei found the decision not as clear cut as many of his other choices. As he had told Ruby, he gained the most pleasure from the suffering of those who trusted him, cared for him as a friend or more. But the King of Heroes occupied a strange gray area of that account. He did not consider Kirei a friend, he had long ago sworn to only have one of those, but he enjoyed his company more than his usual tools. He would not have survived the battle in the Vault of the Spring Maiden if he did not.

And Gilgamesh had taught him to be himself, to forget the conventions of traditional morality and simply indulge himself in the pleasures of life. He was perhaps his greatest mentor, the closest thing a despicable being like Kirei could have to a friend.

But if he stuck by him, he would never get to see if there was a world where he _deserved_ to exist.

But he would still have Ruby and Kiritsugu. He would still have the chance to face those Heroes of Justice, at last near one and the same, and crush their dreams and souls with his own hands. That would have to be enough. He would have to survive on that.

He would have to…

“I shall bring your terms to Gilgamesh,” Kirei assured Salem, giving her a polite bow. “I do not believe he will object to them, but I cannot promise that we will accept.”

“That _he_ will accept,” The Queen replied. “As I said, do not bind yourself to him needlessly, my friend. And do not worry. If his own methods have already failed him, this is his only recourse to locate his lost treasure. A bit of magic is a small price to pay.”

Kirei nodded. He was about to mentally call Gilgamesh when the sound of heavy footsteps drew his attention to the throne room’s entrance. A tall, well-muscled man marched into the room, his stone eyes narrowing when they caught sight of the priest.

“Hazel, what took you so long?” Salem asked lightly, clearly teasing the new arrival. “You nearly missed our guest.”

Hazel… no. Kirei’s semblance warped around the hulking man similarly to Salem, but it was not staunched as it was. Hazel Rainart was his chosen name, but he was once…

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Waver Velvet.”

The King of Aura frowned. That was fair. Kirei wasn’t even sure the former Master of Iskandar had even known he existed back in the Fourth War. He had only observed the then boy through intermediaries after all. Back then, the child had been in over his head, an average mage entering a contest of ruthless killers. But now, if his analysis of his Noble Phantasms were correct… then without Ea, he could in theory… so that’s what Salem was preparing. She didn’t want to risk anything going wrong.

The only question now was whether he would be a part of it.

“We’re negotiating with the Golden King?” Hazel inquired, a dangerous note of rage in his voice.

Salem lowered her head to the man, the black lines on her face extending out across her cheeks. Identical marks immediately appeared on Hazel’s face, though he did not seem disturbed by the occurrence.

“I see,” he replied calmly, the hum of fury gone from his tone. “I will see to the preparations.”

His sudden shift was all the confirmation that Kirei needed about the Queen of the Grimm’s intentions. And as a shimmering golden portal appeared and he tread through it, the priest found himself conflicted.

With only a word, he could prevent Gilgamesh from walking into danger. Even if he did not mention Salem’s intentions, informing him of the truth of Remnant would easily set him against the Queen of the Grimm. He would not tolerate such a scourge to mar his garden. They could try another way to find Ea, and Kirei would have Ruby and Kiritsugu.

But if he did speak, the path to the new world would be lost. The world where he would not be a devil, where he would be allowed to exist and live.

Kirei did not appreciate the return of his mire of confusion, having thought to have cast it off forever with the recognition of his true self. But back then, he’d once thought his only recourse to his abnormality was suicide, when in time he’d been shown a path of much greater joy. Now there were two roads ahead of him, one promising him continued joy and possible death, while the other offered a chance at complete absolution, an end to the taint that had forever spoiled his pleasure.

It was too soon to make a choice, he didn’t have enough information. For now, he would mind his options and keep his silence.

And, just maybe, the path to Kirei Kotomine’s salvation would finally reveal itself.


	71. A Line is Drawn

Winter had thought she had been prepared. She’d gone to Argus with an autonomous combat android powered by a nova of near infinite magic expecting to fight a folklore bandit leader and her insane black knight. She’d thought after everything the general had informed her of, she’d be able to handle anything that was thrown at her.

Then she’d arrived at the base to find that Specialist Cordovin had gone against her orders and attempted to attack the interlopers with the Argus Titan Mech, a battle station designed to protect the city from the largest and most dangerous of Grimm. She’d also borne witness to that same quarter billion lien war machine being obliterated in five seconds by a what appeared to be a hot-headed teenage girl in spiky armor. It provided her with quite the picture of just how dangerous a Servant was.

Fortunately, when Ruler had moved in to engage Lancelot, she acquitted herself quite well considering she had never had a real battle with those on her level, Lancelot hadn’t even been present, and she was outnumbered four to one. Fortunately, Winter herself had arrived and called her off before either they or their new allies lost strength they couldn’t afford to.

Grateful as she was for the massive boost their invasion force had just received, she couldn’t help but be confounded by the irony. This Holy Grail War was supposed to be a worldwide competition, yet four of the seven masters were her little sister’s schoolmates. Hell, three of them were her team.

She couldn’t say she had much to judge them on. Weiss’ letters hadn’t mentioned much about any boys, so Jaune Arc was somewhat of an enigma, but if he was anything like his mother, or sibling as she had learned of the Servant who’d destroyed the Titan Mech, then he would likely be a worthwhile ally in the coming fight.

Yang Xiao-Long and Blake Belladonna were easier to categorize. Weiss had spoken well of both of their combat abilities, Xiao-Long’s in particular being somewhat crude but doubtlessly effective. However, the personalities that had been reported seemed to be somewhat inverted as during the entire flight to Atlas, the supposedly withdrawn Belladonna repeatedly attempted to speak with her partner only for the boisterous Xiao-Long to quietly refuse her, continuing to stare at her sister and P-2. In turn, Belladonna had quietly moped back to her Servant and Amitola.

The stark difference between the letters and reality was frightening. Because while Winter and Atlas had been mobilizing their forces and creating False Ruler, these children had been fighting a war. It filled the specialist with enormous guilt that they’d been broken down as they had. They were children, they should have just been starting their second year at their academy, not fighting a battle for the fate of the world with ancient heroes and apocalyptic magics. Yet, because Winter and the others of her generation had been so utterly blindsided and failed so spectacularly, they had been forced to grow up far too soon to pick up the slack.

Perhaps she was being too hard on herself. After all, she and General Ironwood wouldn’t have been able to do anything against Salem’s forces without the additional measures they had gained over the past few months. But when Winter saw what had become of Ruby Rose, the bubbly, awkward young girl she had met on the Beacon Docks, she found it hard not to feel ashamed.

The girl, or really woman now, had shown no sign of her former cheer when Winter had arrived at Argus. Where once she would have rattled aimlessly about junctions or some other ridiculous thing, now she spoke only when she needed to and when she did, she was curt and to the point. Her silver eyes that had blazed with so much eager cheer before were now cold and hard like steel, the shining scar running down her cheek only accentuating their dullness. Wherever had happened to them all, she seemed to have taken it harder than the others. Or perhaps she was simply the worst at hiding it. She hadn’t taken her eyes off P-2 the entire flight.

With Winter’s clearance codes to ensure uninterrupted passage and Rider and Saber’s skills to accelerate the vehicles, the group made excellent time to the capital, the snows fortunately light for once in her frozen homeland. Their bullheads and Rider’s chariot landed smoothly on a platform beside the towering white structure that was Atlas High Command. General Ironwood stood at the head of two squads of specialists in perfect white dress uniforms to greet them, or as perfect as could be with the constant swarm of flurries dusting them. Her cyborg superior raised an eyebrow as she leapt out of the vehicle and marched towards him, ending with a dutiful salute.

“At ease, specialist,” the general ordered, concern painted over his normally stoic face. “Well Winter, you said you didn’t find Raven, but this was not what I was expecting.”

“Apologies, sir,” she replied. “I did not think you’d want me to chance speaking of this over a scroll.”

“A wise choice,” Ruby Rose’s Servant, Assassin, complemented, though his blunt tone betrayed no such praise. He warily noted the rows of men and women behind the general.

General Ironwood equaled the crimson cloaked man’s suspicious eyes. “And if I may ask, who are you?”

“He’s my Servant,” Ruby declared, striding up to meet to Ironwood and giving him a respectful nod. “General.”

“Ruby Rose,” the general greeted, a warm smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again.” He glanced about the rest of the descending party. “Are you all—”

“Only of four us,” Ruby stated. “Me, Yang, Blake, and Jaune.”

Ironwood nodded. “It seems like we have a great deal to discuss. Still, it’ll be good to see Qrow again. I’ve got some good whiskey for him as an apology for everything that happened at Bea—”

“Uncle Qrow is dead.”

General Ironwood’s eyes widened farther than Winter had ever seen before, something that probably would have alarmed her if her own mind hadn’t frozen at Ruby’s words.

Qrow… was dead?

Qrow Branwen, the most aggravating, disrespectful, lackadaisical drunken lout to ever walk the face of Remnant… a huntsman of more than exceptional skill in combat and psychological warfare. Who had proved multiple times through his spars with her in defense of Ozpin that he would stand by those he called friend through thick and thin. Who constantly belittled her for merely doing her duty the best way she knew how. Who had risked his life again and again scouting into the very heart of what she now knew to be a world literally made of evil, all for the sake of countless innocents who would never know his name. He was dead. One of their greatest warriors was dead and the final battle hadn’t even begun.

Winter had never called him friend, but she felt as if a piece of her heart had died with him.

Not too big a piece of course. He’d have never let her live it down if it was.

Why hadn’t Ruby mentioned her uncle’s passing on the way? The flight had provided more than enough time and she’d dodged around supplying Qrow’s whereabouts when she’d inquired why he hadn’t had them use his code. She imagined it was more than difficult to talk about a dead family member, but she’d informed the general immediately.

Why had she hesitated with her?

General Ironwood straightened into a formal military posture, his hands folding behind his back. “I see. I’m… so sorry for your loss, Ms. Rose. You and your sister.”

“Thank you, general,” Ruby replied. “But if it’s all the same to you, we should get down to business. Like you said, we have a lot to discuss.”

“Of course,” the general nodded. “These men will get you settled in, and we can talk in my office.”

“We don’t have time to rest—”

“Ruby,” Jaune Arc interceded gently. “We’ve all had a long couple of weeks. We can afford an hour to rest up. Besides, you really want to go over everything in this cold?”

Winter scanned the rest of the party and finally noticed that, apart from the Servants, the foreigners were all shivering, especially the two faunus girls. Growing up in warmer climates, the tropics of Menagerie most of all, did not prepare one for even the summers of Atlas, where the winters of old would lay snow a hundred feet deep and women would smother their babies rather than see them starve, only for their tears to freeze on their cheeks as they wept. Dust was a vital resource for the kingdom not only to fight off the Grimm, but just to keep their homes warm enough to live in.

Ruby stared at Jaune for a few seconds before turning away and sighing, dark bags of exhaustion visible under her eyes as the snow descended all around her. “Right, right. That’s a good idea. Lead the way.”

The children, the huntsmen, were led away into the tower, P-2 following behind, possibly to speak with Doctor Polendina. Soon, Winter and the general were alone on the landing platform.

Ironwood let out a long, depleted sigh. He took a few shaky steps forward and pulled out a silver flask from his coat. For a moment, he just looked at it, his misty breath fogging up the metal.

“Probably for the best,” he finally murmured, unscrewing the cap. “I got him top shelf. He always seemed to like the cheap stuff better for some reason.”

The general tipped the flask back and took a deep swig. When he pulled it out, he raised the vessel in a salute to the sky. “Crazy bastard.”

He resealed the flask and stowed it away in his uniform. His right hand rose and covered his eyes.

Winter allowed him a few moments, but as the flurries began to pick up, she stepped forward to his side. “Sir, we should go.”

“Right, right,” the general agreed, his robotic hand unmoving from his upper face. “I just can’t help feeling how ridiculous that boy was being.”

Winter cocked an eyebrow. “Ridiculous, sir?”

“Yes. Jaune, that was his name, right? He said it was cold out here. Ridiculous. It’s warm enough for the snow to melt.”

“Melt, sir?” Winter asked, confused. Both she and the general had been raised in the glacial climate, but just because they could tolerate it didn’t mean they didn’t feel the freezing temperature, far less mistake it for heat enough to—

She spotted two thin lines of liquid streaming down the general’s cheeks, both originating from under his covered eyes.

“Yes. Melting snow.”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

“Gods damnit, I forgot how cold this stupid kingdom is,” Ilia hissed, frantically rubbing her hands together.

Blake nodded, pulling her jacket tighter over her shoulders in an attempt to stop her shivering. She’d known that Atlas was far from a tropical climate, but when Winter had informed them they’d have good weather for their arrival she’d expected something above freezing. If this was good weather, she didn’t want to be anywhere near the kingdom once winter really began.

General Ironwood’s men had led them to a lounge a few levels up from their landing site. The room was apparently the centerpiece of High Command’s guest quarters, with three hallways jutting out with dozens of rooms attached for visiting dignitaries. They would likely be staying there for however long they remained in the capital. The lounge itself was fairly nice, elegant in a minimal military way. There were four white couches against the wall with coffee tables filled with various magazines before each of them. All of them surrounded the centerpiece of the room, a small marble fountain, shaped like a torch attached to an elaborate spear, a gentle spray of water spewing from the tip.

Vernal whistled. “Cold or not, gotta admit this place has style.”

“It’s typical Atlas debauchery,” Ilia scowled. “Decorating their ivory towers while leaving everyone else to starve and die, if they even care at all.”

One of the soldiers who’d escorted them glared at her, specifically the Grimm mask tied to her waist. “Atlas does everything it can to protect _all_ its citizens, especially from terrorist vermin.”

“Freedom fighters. Who wouldn’t have had to resort to violence if the government had cared to listen to their peaceful protests.”

The soldier growled and started forward but one of his fellows caught him. “Stand down, specialist.”

“Are we just going to let fucking White Fang into High Command?”

“The General says they’re guests, so they’re guests. That’s final.”

The worked-up man reluctantly took a step back, though he didn’t take his glare off of Ilia. Lancer took a protective step in front of the chameleon faunus.

Vernal yawned and plopped down on one of the couches. “Well, I’m a bandit, so I guess both of you are better people than me.”

Blake, along with everyone else, glared at the tattooed woman. Which, to her credit, was probably her intention. There wouldn’t be a chance for tensions to boil over due to differing factions if they all focused on their dislike of her.

The specialist who’d stepped in before coughed awkwardly into his hand. “Well, General Ironwood will call you up once you’ve had some time to settle in. Each of the rooms is equipped with a bathroom and if you need any refreshment, there is an intercom at the end of each hall.”

“Thank you,” Ruby replied politely. “Tell the general it won’t take us too long. We’re ready whenever he is.”

The soldier nodded and he and his fellows filed out.

“Well,” Nora began, lacing her hands over her head and stretching her back. “I don’t know about you guys, but after sleeping on concrete and metal for the last few days, I’m more than ready for some time in an actual bed.”

“You’ll have to save the sleep for later,” Ruby replied. “We need to tell Ironwood about the situation as soon as possible. Lay down, warm up, and grab some food, but no naps.”

Nora grinned, specifically wiggling her eyebrows at Ren. “Who said anything about napping?”

Blake immediately felt her cheeks go flush, whirling away from the two. She couldn’t say she hadn’t seen it coming, the two had been a pair since they’d met at Kuroyuri and Blake had more than observed their closeness during her time traveling with them. Honestly, Sun had tried to open a bet with her on how long it would take until one of them dragged the other into the woods to go ‘hunting’. She wasn’t sure when their relationship had advanced, but it was nice to know they had found some measure of happiness amidst the turmoil they’d all faced.

She also couldn’t help but find her eyes drawn to Lancer as the thought ran through her mind.

Mordred, Yang, Iskandar, and Vernal all smirked at the couple, while Diarmuid smiled warmly, and even Kiritsugu allowed a ghost of pleasure to briefly adorn his face.

Ilia shrugged. “I’ve tried bugging these dorms enough times to know they’re soundproof. Knock yourselves out.”

“Wait, why would they need soundproof—” Jaune’s eyes widened. He whipped back and forth between his teammates. “You two… when did this happen?”

Nora giggled, while Ren just flashed his usual serene smile, though with a new mischievous glint. “A little bit before everything happened at Haven. Afterward, it didn’t seem like the time to spread the news.”

Ruby chuckled a bit at that. “Fine. Have fun. But if you’re still going when the time comes, we’re not waiting up.”

“Fair enough,” Nora declared, looping her arm through Ren’s elbow. A moment later, they’d dash down one of the corridors, the _whoosh_ of a door closing heard soon after.

Ruby’s eyes turned hard again after the pair were gone. She turned to Jaune. “You and I need to go over what we’re going to say to Ironwood. I don’t want us forgetting anything important.”

Jaune nodded. “Probably a good idea.”

“Ruby?” Blake spoke up. “You didn’t tell Winter about Weiss during the flight. Why?”

Her team leader sighed. “I was waiting until we got here. I didn’t want to have to talk about it more than once.”

“Okay, but what are we going to tell them?” Blake continued. “I mean… Winter… her father and brother are _dead_ , and Weiss…”

“We’ll tell them the truth,” Ruby declared, though she looked miserable about it. “We’ll tell them the truth. That Weiss needs to be put down.”

Blake’s eyes widened. “Ruby, she’s not a dog—”

“She might as well be at this point,” Ruby shot back. “Do you think I want to do this, Blake? She’s my best friend! I don’t want to kill her for something she has no control over! But this is bigger than us, than what we want, then our friends—”

“Ruby,” Yang called out, though as soon as her sister turned towards her, she flinched away. “We understand. We’ll do what we have to do. But opening with that to her sister probably isn’t going to endear them to us. She has Ironwood’s ear and we need his help.”

The red-headed girl stared at her sister for a moment before nodding. “Right, right. Good thinking. We’ll have to tell them about her, but we can ease them into that idea. Winter’s a huntress. She’ll understand, she’ll just need time. Jaune, let’s go.”

“Right,” the other leader nodded. “Mordred, you want to join?”

“Maybe later,” the Knight of Treachery deflected. “I want to see what kind of grub they have in this place.”

The Saber Servant disappeared into spirit form, as her master sighed followed Ruby down to one of the rooms, Assassin close behind.

“Yang?” Blake whimpered once they were gone, unable to believe what she had heard. “You just said that to calm her down right? You didn’t really mean that about Weiss?”

Her partner turned towards her with a despairing frown. “She killed Uncle Qrow. If she gets the chance, she’ll kill more people. And if we don’t get rid of her, she’ll just keep summoning more Alters if we manage to kill the others.”

“She’s not in control of herself. Salem’s corrupted her, it isn’t her fault.”

“But it is our responsibility,” Yang replied wearily. “If we held off on saving the world for her sake, the real Weiss would have our heads. The huntress buried under that mud would want us to stop her, to do whatever needed to be done for the greater good.”

“Greater good?” Blake whispered, shaking her head in shock.

“That’s the job,” Yang pronounced. “Like Weiss said back at Mountain Glenn, at the end of the day, being a huntress is a job to protect the people. Whatever we want has to come second.”

How could _Yang_ of all people be suggesting this? She was loyal to her friends to the end, damn the world. What she was saying wasn’t wrong per se, but still…

Weiss had every reason to hate her when she found out she was a faunus. And at the beginning, she did. But in less than a weekend, she’d calmed herself down and accepted her for who she was, mistakes and all. She was her friend, her teammate. Her teammate who’d been kidnapped from her home by a merciless thief and handed over to the devil to be brainwashed. There was nothing she could have done. She was a victim, just like the people of Remnant would be if they failed. Would they kill some victims to save more of others? Just like Kiritsugu?

… If they had to… yes… Blake had always believed the greater good came first, and she knew Weiss thought the same.

But did that mean they had to jump to killing her straight away? What they wanted had to come second, but it did come, didn’t it?

“Weiss is a part of the people too,” she declared to Yang. “We haven’t even tried to find a way to cure her.”

Yang shrugged. “If we had one, sure. But do you know how we could do that? Hell, do you know where we would even start?”

“Ruby’s eyes.”

“What?”

“Ruby’s eyes,” Blake repeated, the idea becoming more and more feasible as she spoke. “Yes, that’s it. Ruby’s eyes were able to cure Mr. Arc of the corruption, right? If we could get close to her, and keep her still for a moment—”

“Get close to her? Have you forgotten her lizard tailed bodyguard?” Yang responded incredulously. “Lancer Alter wouldn’t let us get within two feet before he’d skewer us all, let alone the idea that Weiss would stand still long enough for Ruby to clear all the mud from her. And besides, Mr. Arc wasn’t even fully corrupted and saving him started Ruby’s scar.”

“So?”

“So, giant glowing scars generally aren’t a good thing!” Yang shouted, terror in her violet eyes. “That thing has only gotten bigger each time she’s used her eyes. Her body can’t handle its—their power. If she tries to use them to clear all the mud from Weiss, she could tear herself apart!”

“We don’t know that!” Blake shot back.

“We can’t risk it either!”

“What are you talking about?” Blake demanded. “We both know Ruby would risk it in a second. Just like Weiss would for her if the positions were reversed.”

Yang threw her face into her hands. “That’s not what I mean,” she sobbed. “That’s not…”

Blake’s eyes widened at Yang’s cries, even as Iskandar put his hand of her shoulder for comfort. Something was up here. The situation with Weiss was tense and her partner had always been protective of Ruby, but she’d also had faith in her. She wouldn't object to trying to save their friend by acting like their leader was so fragile, not without reason. Something was up.

“Yang,” she whispered gently, trying to soothe her partner’s obviously troubled mind. She slowly stepped forward, Iskandar allowing her to draw Yang into a hug. “What aren’t you telling me? Why are you so against this? What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know how to tell you. Or even if I should,” Yang sniffled. “I don’t know what to do. My dream… my dream was to live, with everyone one I cared about at my sides. But everything I do keeps making things worse. I told Gilgamesh about my mom, and now she’s as good as dead. We’ve all lost Weiss, and Archer, and Sun, and Pyrrha. Ruby and I lost our mom, Uncle Qrow, and dad is as good as dead… if I make the choice again, I could lose Ruby or you, and I’m so sick and tired of losing people…”

“Yang,” Blake murmured, clutching her partner tighter. “You won’t lose me. Or Ruby. And we don’t have to lose Weiss either.”

“But what if I tell her, and…” Yang pulled out of the hug, and stared Blake in the eyes. “What would you do?”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“What would you do if you could save the world, but at the cost of destroying the people you care about, of taking who they are from them?” Yang asked desperately. Her gaze fell and she stared emptily at the stark white floor. “What if to save the world, you turned them into a weapon?”

“Yang, you’re not making any sense.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Yang whimpered, tears streaking down her face, her determined eyes so lost.”

Iskandar came up and gingerly took her in his arms. “There, there, master. It’s alright.”

Blake looked up at the King of Conquerors, whose face did not appear to reinforce his words. Though, it was lacking in the confusion that she was sure dominated her own. Did he know what Yang was keeping from her, this secret that was driving her partner to her wits’ end?

“Will she be alright?” she desperately asked the Rider.

Iskandar nodded. “She’ll be alright. Some rest might do her some good though. How does that sound, master?”

“A rest, right,” Yang whispered. “I’ll just… lie down for a bit. Until the meeting. Blake… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Blake assured her. “Just rest up.”

Yang nodded and allowed her Servant to lead her away down the hall.

When she was gone, Blake let out a long frustrated sigh. She understood and sympathized greatly with Yang’s indecision, she herself had suffered quite a bit of it when she was trying to discern if leaving the White Fang was really the right move or if she would just make things worse by doing so. Then, when she’d finally decided that she needed to get out and stop corruption and oppression her own way, she’d settled on the half measure of becoming a huntress, but not informing the proper authorities of the numerous secrets she knew of her former organization.

Still, that didn’t mean it wasn’t infuriating. Between Yang’s terror keeping her paralyzed, Ruby’s shift to ultra-pragmatism, and Weiss’ corruption, it felt like Team RWBY had fallen apart. Blake would have found it ironic that she, the loner whose introversion and stubbornness had caused most of their early issues was now the one trying to reach out to the others, if her failure in that act wasn’t so absolutely crushing. Once again, just like when she’d first arrived at Beacon, she was alone. Alone and terrified.

The weight of the Contender at her hip and the Origin Rounds in her ammunition pouch felt like a ball and chain. They were some of the most powerful weapons in the world, capable of killing the mightiest of Grimm and the most gallant of huntsmen in a single strike. Yet, the target she was meant to use them on was her friend, her friend who had looked past her sins to accept her for who she was, her friend who was now imprisoned in a life of villainy she had no control over.

Funny. When she was with the White Fang, she’d never gotten a mission to go after a Schnee. Now, her team of human friends were all telling her it needed to be done.

“My lady, are you okay?”

Immediately, her heart went into a flutter. She knew it was the curse, but at the same time, Blake couldn’t help but enjoy the only consistently positive emotions she’d had since Sun and Adam’s deaths. Besides, Lancer didn’t mean any harm. He honestly cared for her, would do anything in his power to keep her safe, her knight in shining armor.

“No,” she confessed, turning to Diarmuid and Ilia. “I don’t know. I never thought the world was a fairy tale, but I’m not sure I ever really understood how terrible it could be. I thought the fight wouldn’t be easy, there was never a guarantee we’d win but… now I’m worried that even if we do win, the only reason it will be a victory is because we’re alive. It’s like you said with Kiritsugu, what’s the point in winning if we become our enemies, if we slaughter anyone who isn’t convenient just like them?”

Ilia shrugged. “War is never pretty, Blake. It forces us to reconsider what we’re willing to do and what we’re not. Hell, I swore that I would see Atlas burn to the ground for what happened to my parents and here we are about to fight alongside them.”

Blake frowned, her confusion unabating. She’d always thought that fighting for the right cause the right way was the most important thing. She hadn’t left the White Fang because she no longer believed in its cause, but because she could no longer condone their extremist actions. In the face of oblivion, did such reservations not matter anymore? Was her morality just cowardice?

“Ugh, you people are ridiculous,” Vernal moaned.

Ilia’s eyes narrowed at the bandit. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, skinchanger,” the bandit continued, lazily swinging her head over the back of the couch. “You idiots keep wasting all this time moralizing and debating. You’re so concerned about whether what you want is good or evil or polka dot pink. It’s nauseating.”

“What do you know?” Ilia growled, stalking up to the couch. “You’re just a bandit. You slaughter people who barely have enough to survive without a care in the world. How could you ever understand what we’ve fought for, the injustices we’ve—”

“Suffered?” Vernal snapped, launching to her feet, her face inches away from Ilia’s. The chameleon faunus’ eyes widened as the bandit chuckled. “The crimes we’ve needed to avenge, the crusade of ultimate justice we’ve labored all our lives for, hahahaha! Give me a break! Yeah, I’m a bandit. Yeah, I’ve hurt people, robbed them blind and left them to the Grimm. But so have you. Both of you, and your old boyfriend especially.”

Lancer narrowed his eyes at the rogue, putting an arm between her and Ilia. “Take care how you speak of my fallen master, knave.”

Vernal smirked. “Man, you have such a boner for him, don’t you, hero? The ‘noble freedom fighter’ Adam Taurus. Give me a break. If I’m a knave, then so’s he. After all, he tracked down Raven for training. He wanted her to teach him how to be the best bandit there ever was.”

“Because he wanted to help people!” Ilia shouted. “He needed those skills to help the White Fang—”

“So as long as he’s doing it for the cause, it’s alright?” Vernal shot back. “As long as he’s going to free the faunus, he can slaughter and rob to his hearts content. Doesn’t matter that the kingdoms call him a terrorist because they’re oppressive, so their laws don’t matter. At least, when you’re the ones breaking them.”

“That’s enough,” Blake snarled. “Do you have a point? Or are you just going to keep mocking our dead friend?”

Vernal rolled her eyes, striding past Lancer and down the room hall, turning back at the end. “You keep debating good and evil like they matter, Belladonna. But they don’t. Because everyone thinks of them differently. People who grew up in a loving family like yours are going to have different values then people who grew up starving and scraping by for their next meal like me. You’re willing to do almost anything for the people you were taught were oppressed and I was willing to do anything for the tribe who gave me a home. Whether it’s _just_ or not doesn’t matter. Those who win decide justice. What matters is that you want it and what you’re willing to do to get it.”

Blake scowled. “I won’t kill my friends.”

“Then that’s your line,” Vernal shrugged. “You won’t kill your friends to save the world and stop faunus oppression or whatever you’re planning to do with the other wish. Anything up to that is fair game then. Now stop brooding about it, you’re annoying.”

Ilia cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you care?”

“Oh, I don’t know, skinchanger. Maybe I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You’re not.”

Vernal smirked. “Fine. You’re hot and the world’s about to end. I’ll be in the last room on the right.”

With a wink, the bandit strutted down the hall.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Wait, does she want you to…”

“Like I’d go for a bitch like her,” Ilia growled.

Lancer tilted his head to the side. “Are you normally attracted to other women, my lady?”

“What?” Ilia squeaked, her skin turning a bashful pink. “Well… yes… but that was before I met you, Lancer!”

Blake was frankly amazed she hadn’t noticed Ilia’s preference before. They’d known each other for years, and all that time she’d never expressed interest in a guy. She’d just assumed the girl was too dedicated to the cause to bother with romance, but maybe she’d just been looking in the wrong place. She couldn’t help but wonder if Ilia had any crushes before that she just hadn’t noticed.

“My lady…” Lancer mumbled. “Your feelings are not real. They are an illusion conjured by my curse. I am sorry.”

“No!” Ilia cried. “That’s not true!”

“It is,” Diarmuid stated reluctantly.

“Why?” Blake inquired. Both her friends whirled to face her. “Why is it that any of our feelings for you _have_ to be a result of your curse? Why can’t they be because of who you are? A noble man, a just man, a man of honor. A knight.”

Diarmuid sighed. “A man of honor. Twice, I lived my life for it, to find it through service to a master. Twice betrayed, both my master and I left with nothing.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

“Does it matter whose fault it was?” Diarmuid asked. “Assassin is a bastard. His methods are monstrous. But he’s not wrong that my own have been just as ineffective. My oath leaves me honor bound to see through Master Adam’s wish, the wish he died for, to bring true equality to the faunus. I cannot fail again.”

“What are you saying?”

“I do not know,” he confessed. “But the world is at the precipice of apocalypse. The King of Knights has been tainted to its herald. And I do not think nobility alone will see a better Remnant survive the night.”

Blake gulped. “So, what will you do?”

Diarmuid shrugged. “There must be a medium of sorts, between honor and pragmatism. A path that will save this world without destroying everything we’ve fought for. As Vernal said, even Master Adam’s actions could be seen as monstrous from a certain point of view. To achieve his dream… my lady, may I take my leave until the meeting? I have a great deal to think about.”

“Of course,” Blake nodded. “Take all the time you need. But if you think of anything… let me know. Please. I could use the help.”

Diarmuid struggled the barest of smiles to his face for her. “Of course, master. Whatever comes, whatever path I need walk, my oath to you still stands as well. And I will never abandon you.”

Blake felt the blush rise to her cheeks, but for once couldn’t find it within herself to turn away. Her knight shined like the sun, and with all the darkness that had consumed her life, she wanted to feel every ray. When he dissipated into spirit form, the crushing weight of her burdens returned.

The world needed to be saved. That had to come before anything else. But even after that, she needed to find a way to save Weiss, to convince Ruby and Yang that they could at least try. And then, there was the second wish. The wish that Adam, Ilia, Sienna, Sun, her parents, and all faunus across the planet had dreamt of since the ‘victory’ of the Faunus Rights Revolution proved hollow. The wish that now rested on her shoulders.

The wish that all her friends wanted.

The wish that Lancer wanted.

The wish that she, for both him and for her own dream that she’d strived her entire life to make reality, wanted.

But she would not kill her friends. She refused to go that.

But by virtue of competing, of trying to save Weiss if she could not convince them of it, she would be going against them, even if they were all still unified against Salem. Eventually, it would come down to the end, and with the exception of Caster and possibly Assassin, Blake didn’t know if Lancer could defeat any of the other Servants for sure. So Vernal’s question rang through her mind, haunting her every thought.

How far was she willing to go to get what she wanted?

 


	72. To War

“So, please let me know if I have all this right,” General Ironwood said, sitting rigidly straight in his command chair. “Raven Branwen is the Spring Maiden, and both she and the Relic of Knowledge are in the possession of Kirei Kotomine and Gilgamesh, the most powerful of all Heroic Spirits even though he’s missing some world-destroying sword. Am I correct so far?”

“Yup.”

“ _Wonderful_. And beyond that, Salem has killed Jacques and Whitley, and corrupted Weiss with some evil mud. And, this new evil Weiss…”

“Weiss Alter.”

“Weiss Alter has summoned three Alter Servants to bolster her forces in addition to Caster and Hazel Rainart, the weakest of which can summon a ten thousand strong army of pseudo-Servants. And they have Ozpin. Is that everything?”

“Pretty much.”

Ironwood sank back into his chair, his normally calm and focused eyes paralyzed in shock. “By the gods.”

“Fuck the gods, James, they’re not here. And if they were, they’d be as screwed as we are,” Crystal Schnee snapped from her wheelchair, her own cold gaze pinned to the floor as her fists clenched with fury. “That bitch… she murdered my son and turned my daughter into her twisted puppet… she will _die_ for this.”

Ruby appreciated her tenacity. It was sharp and focused, like Weiss’ commitment back at Beacon, speaking to a powerlessness that could not be overcome, certainly visible since the Schnee Matriarch was in no condition to fight. It had never occurred to the red hooded girl that she had never thought to ask her partner about her mother, the few mentions she did get of the woman’s drinking habits enough to steer her away from the topic.

Still, she didn’t think she could have taken the woman to be anyone but her old friend’s parent. Putting aside the iconic white Schnee hair, there was a grace to Crystal, an elegant poise that persisted even as she sat hunched over in a wheelchair, an attribute Ruby had noted in both Weiss and Winter even when they had been at their most arrogant, an unyielding tenacity to do everything in their power to achieve their goals.

Its current absence in Winter was perhaps the most disconcerting reaction to the group’s story. Ruby, Jaune, and Blake sat before Ironwood’s desk, behind which he and Crystal sat, Winter and Penn— P-2 flanking them on each side. Likewise, Kiritsugu, Mordred, and Diarmuid all stood behind their respective masters.

Winter, who Ruby had first seen standing in perfect military posture as she’d marched down an airship, leaned against entirely against the back wall, her normally ice-cold eyes shattered like glass. Her chest heaved up and down as her breath audibly rushing in and out of her lungs, a gloved hand rising to clutch her forehead.

“This… this corruption…” she stuttered out, nothing like the authoritative huntress she had been before. “Is there a cure? Is there any way to remove it?”

“None that we know of,” Ruby reluctantly confessed. “We would have used it by now if we did.”

“There are other options we can explore though,” Blake suddenly cut in. “We’re just… we’re working on it.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. What was Blake talking about? They hadn’t discussed any possible options for freeing Weiss. There weren’t any to discuss. Was she trying to give them false hope, use that to manipulate them? No, that wasn’t Blake’s style. Besides, they couldn’t afford for their allies to not be aware of the danger their teammate posed. If they let her live when a chance to end her arose, it could be catastrophic.

“However, we don’t know if our options will pan out by the time we get to the Grimmlands,” Ruby continued tactfully. “If that happens…”

“You’ll try to kill her,” Crystal bitterly stated, her eyes not rising from the floor.

“What?” Winter gasped. “You can’t! She was kidnapped against her will, plunged into this mud! There may still be a way to reach her—”

“She killed Uncle Qrow,” Ruby declared bluntly, stopping the specialist cold, and even causing Ironwood’s eyes to widen. “I saw the wound. I know Myrtenaster’s blade better than anyone except Weiss herself. She stabbed him right through the heart.”

“It could have been someone else,” Winter argued. “You said you didn’t see it, someone else might have grabbed the weapon during the battle.”

“Possible, but unlikely,” Ruby replied. “With all due respect Winter, you didn’t see her. This Alter, it’s practically not even Weiss anymore. Salem has twisted her, suffocated her best qualities and brought everything she hated about herself to the forefront. She will kill as many people as Salem commands and she will do it with a smile on her face. She is a monster, and if any of the real Weiss is still in her, then we owe it to her to make sure no more blood ends up on her hands.”

She didn’t want to hurt Winter anymore than her report already had. The huntress was being told that her little sister who’d she practically raised had become a demon in the service of the Queen of the Grimm. Of course she’d want to save her. Ruby wanted to save her too. Weiss deserved to be saved.

But people rarely got what they deserved. She didn’t want to kill her partner, but she didn’t see any other way the war could go. There was no fairy tale ending where both her corrupted friend and the rest of humanity made it out alive.

“If Ms. Schnee was responsible for summoning these Alter Servants, then it will be necessary to remove her from Salem’s forces if we are to prevent them from summoning more,” P-2 pointed out. “However, rescuing her and curing her of this corruption would be preferable to termination. It is possible that she and Specialist Schnee could call forth assistance from the Throne.”

Ruby’s heart skipped a beat. She might have been somewhat embarrassed by that fact if the rest of her party, including Kiritsugu and Mordred, didn’t immediately widen their eyes.

“Wait, what?” Jaune asked. “Back up a second. What do you mean Weiss and Winter could call in more help from the Throne?”

“Exactly that, though it is only a theory,” P-2 explained. “For whatever unknown reason, the Schnee summoning glyphs are able to tap into the Throne of Heroes and draw forth the souls of Heroic Spirits, similar to what our enemy does to create the Grimm.”

“Create the—the Grimm are Servants?” Blake stuttered. “That’s—how? Even the weakest Heroic Spirits are way stronger than normal people, or even huntsmen. Shouldn’t we all be dead by now?”

“Even the mightiest spirit can do little when provided with an inferior body. Until she combined her abilities with those of Weiss, it would seem Salem had no way to provide her soldiers with bodies or minds capable of facilitating their true strength. As the individual Schnees are far less powerful than the Mother of Grimm, the best they can do is to resummons the Servants in forms they have already slain.” P-2 looked down at her hands. “Or create a proper substitute.”

“How do you even know all this?” Kiritsugu inquired. “Humanity has been fighting the Grimm for years and yet only now you’ve discovered their true nature?”

“I am technically a Ruler,” P-2 reminded him. “Though I have no place in the Throne, my True Name Discernment is just as effective on the Grimm as it is any other Servant, Kiritsugu Emiya. After that, it was simple logic.”

“Lovely, though you bring up another excellent point,” Kiritsugu turned to Ironwood and Winter. “How in the hell did you create an _artificial Servant_?”

“By accident,” Ruby realized, her gaze locked on P-2. “A proper substitute… you weren’t supposed to be sentient. You were supposed to be a shell.” Her eyes narrowed as her silver eyes sparked. “ _Penny_ was meant to be a shell.”

Ironwood sighed. He rose to his feet and marched to the window, turning away to gaze out into the snow.

“The Polendina Project began as a means of creating an artificial maiden,” the general revealed. “Ozpin always had faith in the girls who were chosen, but it never sat right with me, putting that kind of burden on them. Crystal had to practically surrender to Jacques to hide herself, the previous Spring Maiden broke under the pressure. Oz did the best he could all those centuries ago but I thought we could do more. We were the protectors of the world, we couldn’t allow innocent, potentially civilian women to have that weight thrust upon them out of nowhere.”

“So you created Penny to bear that burden?” Jaune inquired.

Ruby kept her glare on the general’s back, but she could see the other advantages that had influenced his decision. As powerful as they were, the maidens were still human, and therefore had all the same weaknesses humans did. They could be poisoned, worn down, stabbed in their sleep, struck down a dozen different ways that wouldn’t give them the chance to respond with a fireball. And they feared, they panicked, and they ran. A machine, in theory, would be loyal to the end, and leave no one in danger.

Except Penny hadn’t been no one.

“The Vytal Festival was to be her first field test,” Ironwood continued. “We wanted to see how Penny matched up against the finest huntsmen of the coming generation before sending her out to handle the Grimm. Once we were sure she could handle herself, and had gained enough public notoriety, I would tell Ozpin the whole truth and recommend making her our new guardian. Obviously, it never got that far.”

“No kidding,” Ruby snipped flatly.

“How did you even pull off something like that?” Jaune asked, stultified. “I know Atlas science is the best in the world and all, but making life? A fully functioning person? That seems a little out there.”

“The science is hardly my specialty. Dr. Polendina handles that,” Ironwood informed them. “But, though his designs were certainly invaluable, he was not capable of creating a being of Penny’s level without some… assistance.”

“What kind of assistance could possibly do something like that?”

“Atlas’ relic,” Blake realized. “It’s creation, right?”

Ironwood nodded. “Right in one, Ms. Belladonna. With the staff, we were able to create Penny’s body and bring her online. And after the war began anew at Beacon, we utilized it and the data Nicholas Schnee gathered from his Servant in the Fifth War to build a body capable of supporting such a Heroic Spirit to their full capacity.”

“The only issue was that such a body required a great deal more power that the first one had,” Crystal revealed, shrugging. “Took some work, but in time Geppetto was able to transfer the Winter Maiden’s power from me to P-2. All that was left was for the Servant’s spirit to be called down and placed in the body.”

“Why couldn’t you just use a human body?” Jaune asked. “I mean, it probably wouldn’t be perfect but—”

“A Heroic Spirit is a being of legend, master,” Mordred cut in. “And with that legend comes power that defies the rules of reality. It would be a miracle if the human soul wasn’t annihilated upon arrival. And even if the Heroic Spirit was able to somehow find equilibrium, or just maintain control after the original owner passed, the body wouldn’t be able to handle the strain. Simply existing, let alone calling forth a Noble Phantasm, would incinerate the flesh.”

“Oh,” Jaune noted. “Okay then.”

“You said you were False Ruler though,” Blake recalled squinting at P-2. “I take it the summoning process didn’t go according to plan? Was your body incompatible?”

“This body was perfectly capable of fulfilling Nicholas Schnee’s previous Heroic Spirit, Jeanne D’Arc’s specification,” P-2 replied. “The issue was on her end. There was some sort of… block in the Ruler class’ path from the Grail, a restriction that kept the chalice from simply calling an arbiter on its own.”

“Kirei,” Kiritsugu growled. “He told me that after Ruler’s interference in the last war, he and Gilgamesh modified the jumpstart ritual to prevent a similar issue this time.”

Ruby clenched her fists. Even when they hadn’t known they were even playing the game; the bastard was two steps ahead of them.

“Ah, that explains it,” P-2 noted. “Still, the Grail wanted us to succeed. It did not appreciate the chaos of the war and especially not Salem’s machinations.” She pointed to her amethyst eye. “Though Jeanne could not fully enter this world, she was able to force through pieces of the copy that would have come, memories and skills for the most part.”

“Noble Phantasms?” Kiritsugu inquired.

P-2 shook her head.

“Dr. Polendina attempted to compensate for the complications as much as possible,” Ironwood explained, finally facing them again. “He complied Jeanne’s memories with Penny’s recovered ones and wrote a new program to run the body. With the maiden’s power to provide energy, she is at least physically as strong as Jeanne was, even without Luminosite Eternelle and La Pucelle. We have been mobilizing all possible forces for an assault on the Grimmlands for months now. The primary purpose will just have to shift from rescuing Weiss and Whitely to eliminating Caster.”

“Sir?” Winter asked fearfully.

“We understand, James,” Crystal sighed bitterly. The Schnee matriarch looked up to Ruby and Blake. “She talked about you two, when she came back to Atlas. Sang your praises so much I wondered if there was more than friendship involved. If you have to… do what you have to do, then she’d want you to. But, these alternative options of yours, if you don’t investigate them all before that time comes, then whether we’re all Alters at the end of the day or not, I will come for you.”

Ruby nodded to the older woman’s threat. She had no idea what these alternative methods Blake had mentioned were, but she had no objection to looking into them. She just knew they would be a waste of time. There was no hope of saving Weiss.

Or was there? After all, she’d thought Penny was lost to her, yet now she was standing right there—

No. She was being sentimental. No matter how similar P-2 was to Penny, it was a surface likeness only, and even then, it was hardly perfect. False Ruler wasn’t unkind, but she was focused, professional, and military, a far contrast to her happy go lucky robot friend who brought her out in the middle of the night to talk to fireflies. Atlas had taken her friend’s remnants and rebuilt them into their ultimate weapon, a mishmash of Penny and this Jeanne D’Arc. She couldn’t even say she blamed them given how bad things were.

But… if some part of her old friend was within the upgraded model, then maybe…

No. She was thinking like a child again, a little girl who wanted her fairy tale to be a reality. But that wasn’t even close to the truth. No matter how much she wanted something to be true, to be better, she had to deal with the world as it was.

Right?

Winter scowled but forced herself into a salute. “General, do you wish to set out immediately?”

“Indeed,” Ironwood commanded. “Now that we’re all together, we don’t have a moment to lose. It will take a few days to get to the Grimmlands, so we’ll need to be in the air by nightfall.” He turned to Blake, his face a tad unsure. “Are you sure the White Fang can be trusted to back us up?”

Blake nodded. “Ilia checked in with Sienna at Argus. She’s already on the move.”

“Wonderful,” the general commented. “Never thought I’d be counting on terrorists for cavalry, but I guess we don’t have the luxury to be picky. Have your friend send her the coordinates for our entry point and they’ll meet us there.”

“Pardon me, sir,” Diarmuid interjected. “But though I understand that the White Fang’s nature would make public alliance with them… problematic, there is no assurance that they will arrive at the assault point at the same time as us.”

“Lancer is correct,” Kiritsugu chimed in, earning a narrowed eye from the spearman. “We should rendezvous with them at a separate location, and merge our forces. Then we can figure out a strategy—”

“We don’t have that kind of time!” Ironwood shouted.

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. Ironwood had a temper, but he was usually able to keep it under control, and he was hardly the type to rush in carelessly, at least if there was an advantageous option not to. She wanted to hit Salem hard and fast as well, but leaving it to chance when the entirety of their forces would arrive was just dumb. Unless…

“What haven’t you told us?” she inquired.

Ironwood looked down, ashamed. “Did Ozpin or Qrow ever tell you how the Maidens and the Relics are connected?”

“They told us that the Maidens can open the Vaults of their corresponding Relics,” Ruby said. “And that their existence in a proper host keeps them from reverting to Salem automatically. The power keeps them from teleporting back to her. That’s why she got the Shade and Beacon Relics when the Summer and Fall powers were… destroyed.”

Kiritsugu’s eyes widened. “Fuck.”

“What?” Jaune asked, obviously frightened that it was the quiet Assassin who had sworn. “What’s wrong?”

“We assumed that once the Winter Maiden’s power was transferred, it would acknowledge P-2 as it’s new host,” Ironwood explained. “We were not entirely correct. While the power still exists within Ruler to provide her with energy, its connection with the rest of the defenses has collapsed due to technically being unable to find an official host.”

Jaune paled. “Wait, does that mean—”

“Salem has the Relic of Creation,” Ruby growled in frustration. “She has three relics, including the one that can make bodies capable of supporting Servants.”

“Even for her, something like that will take time,” Ironwood informed them. “The fact that she’s only risked summoning three Alters with her own power is proof that is isn’t all powerful. But we need to move quickly or else our advantage will disappear.”

“Well then,” Ruby snarled. “Let’s get a move. The world won’t save itself.”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Jaune had always heard stories about the enormity of the Atlas military, but seeing it firsthand was something else, especially from a window in the tallest corridor of High Command. Assembled in the staging yard must have been more than a million soldiers, all marching into their various shuttles and carriers in perfect rank and file. The airships then flew them up through the flurries into the dozens of battleships dominating the gray skies, legions of men, drones, robots, and paladins already aboard and awaiting deployment. He’d thought the task force that had been sent to Beacon was impressive, but the full might of the kingdom’s armed forces was simply staggering.

“Ironwood said he’s been calling in every soldier he could find,” he remarked. “Just didn’t expect… this.”

“There’s certainly more of them then there would have been in my time, I’ll give them that,” Mordred noted right next to him. “But how many legends are among them?”

Jaune frowned. However impressive Atlas’ numbers and technology were, they were still charging into the birthplace of the Grimm. They would be outnumbered ten to one, if not worse. Most of the people he was watching proudly march for their homeland would never see the snows again.

But that would happen anyway if they failed. These people had a right to fight for their kingdom and their lives. He couldn’t hold them back out of some misguided desire to not have them die for him. They’d do their jobs, so that he and the other masters and Servants would be free to do theirs. It wasn’t perfect, but it was what they had.

“Jeanne D’Arc.”

“What?” Jaune turned to Mordred. “The Ruler Ironwood tried to summon? What about her?”

His Servant cocked an eyebrow at him. “Jeanne D’Arc. And your name is Jaune Arc.”

“So?”

“So, they’re exactly the same!” Mordred shouted exasperatedly. “Can you really not see that?”

Jaune shrugged. “No, they’re not. She was a girl. I’m a guy. There’s a difference.”

“So you don’t think that maybe, just maybe, father naming you after a saint has greater significance?”

“Jaune is an old Arc family name. Dad gave it to me. It’s probably a coincidence.”

“In our lives?!”

Jaune chuckled. “The _one_ coincidence in our lives. They do happen, you know.”

Mordred rolled her eyes. “Says the idiot who summoned the homunculus of his mother he didn’t know existed.”

“That wasn’t a coincidence,” Jaune pointed out. “I was using myself, mom’s son, as the catalyst, so I got mom’s other son. It wasn’t planned. But it was hardly happenstance.”

“You’re impossible.” Mordred declared. She turned her back and starting walking away. “We should get onto the _Mantle_ , make sure we get the best bunks, closest to the cafeteria, or else Rider will get all the good grub.”

“Mordred, wait,” Jaune called, causing her to stop in her tracks. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

“What, master?”

“Your wish.”

Mordred’s shoulders tensed. “Don’t worry about that master. I assure you, I mean to keep my word to your sister and make sure father comes back to you all.”

“I know. And I am more grateful for that that you know,” Jaune told her. “But I can’t say I’m not surprised.”

“What’s to be surprised about? I’m a knight. Helping people is what we’re supposed to do.”

“Mordred, please don’t talk to me like I’m other people,” Jaune said. “I know you. Your wish means more to you than anything. The chance to draw Caliburn from the stone, to prove how much you’ve learned. You wouldn’t give that up, at least not so quickly.”

“If that’s your only worry, then I can clear it up easily,” Mordred replied. “I gave up that foolish dream right before we left for the White Fang HQ.”

Jaune narrowed his eyes. “You… gave it up? Why?”

“Pick a reason,” Mordred snarked. “That thing with Excalibur in the forest, my new quest to find ‘who is Mordred’ and all that nonsense, or finding something else I wanted more. All of them work just fine.”

“Finding something you wanted more?” Jaune inquired. “What was it? You said you gave it up before the White Fang HQ, before we knew about Saber Alter,”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mordred snarled, whirling on him. “Once we hunt down Caster and I defeat the others in battle, I will use my wish to purify Saber Alter of the corruption and give you and your sisters your mother back.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” she demanded. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Don’t give that,” Jaune countered, getting in her face. “You only decided to change your wish again after Haven, so that means there was something you wanted in between, the dream you were willing to give up Caliburn for.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter now. I will save father.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what _you_ want!” Mordred roared, staggering Jaune back. “You and Sapphire and Sable and Coral and Lavender and Coral and _all_ of you! Hell, even Nicholas I’m sure. He’s just too nice to ask after he made his offer in the first—”

“Offer?” Jaune interrupted. “What offer?”

Mordred turned to the side, frowning. “I’m doing what’s best for your family. What I want doesn’t matter.’”

“They’re your family too,” Jaune insisted. “They may have shocked over you and mom’s past, but they wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this.”

“Yes. I know,” Mordred informed him. “Nicholas made that quite clear. That’s why he offered to let me stay.”

Jaune blinked in shock, taking a surprised step backward. “He offered to… your wish… you wanted to stay. To stay with us?”

“Seemed as good a place as any,” Mordred noted bitterly. “But there’s only one wish open, and that means either me or father won’t be seeing Remnant again. And only one of us is the king this world needs.”

“This world hasn’t had kings in a century!” Jaune shouted. “And besides, what about Saber Alter? Bringing mom back is only going to work if her soul is still on this plane of existence, and we both know that more than likely we’re going to have to—”

“Don’t pity me, master. I understand the realities of this war,” Mordred responded solemnly. “But should the situation arise, and given our group propensity for the unlikely, that is entirely plausible, then I will do what is required of me, by the world, by our family, and by you.”

“I’m not requiring anything of you,” Jaune argued. “None of us are asking you to throw away your dream. You’re family too.”

Mordred narrowed her eyes. “And if you had to choose between the mother who birthed you, who raised, who _died_ for you, or the bastard sibling you didn’t know existed until four months ago, who punched you in the face more times than either of us can remember, who killed your beloved mother in her first life, who would you choose?”

Jaune looked away in shame. They both knew it wasn’t a choice. He wanted to say it would be, but even with all he had come to care for Mordred, just as he cared for the rest of his sisters, his mom was still his mom. For all they’d argued, for all they’d fought, she raised him, taught to ride a bike, made him who he was. He’d been looking for a way to bring her back since Beacon, continuously searching despite Archer’s constant bludgeoning of reality. Now, his miracle was before him, and the one person who could have chosen to stand in his way, was nobly standing aside.

And throwing herself away in the process.

Mordred sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. “That’s what I thought. Can’t say I blame you. _I_ wouldn’t choose me. No matter who I am, who would when there’s the King of Knights?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no,” Jaune declared, his blue eyes hard like sapphires. “I won’t choose mom.”

Mordred glared at him. “Don’t you dare lie to me, you bastard—”

“I won’t choose mom because you don’t choose between family,” he continued boldly. “You have just as much a right to live as mom does, and just as much a place in our family. I’m not going to condemn you to dying again.”

“You imbecile!” Mordred howled, shaking her head in her hands. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Jaune admitted. “But if I’ve learned one thing over this war, it’s that letting yourself be driven by guilt helps no one. Raven did it, and she set herself into the crossfire of two of the most powerful beings on the planet. Ruby and I nearly did it after Beacon and it was only thanks to Archer that we avoided falling down a similar path. If you want to save mom, that’s fine, I’d be more than grateful. But if you wish for it, it has to be because it’s what _you_ want. Not me, not dad, not any of our sisters, you. Mordred.”

He unclasped Avalon and Excalibur from his belt and extended it towards his sibling. “The firstborn son of King Arthur.”

Mordred recoiled from the sheathed sword like it was the plague, but she couldn’t take her eyes off it nonetheless. Her hand unconsciously inched towards it before she caught it and dragged her wrist back to her side. “I gave that to your father for a reason. I cannot allow myself to be defined by them, by him.”

“I get that,” Jaune assured her. “I get that more than you know. But just because it isn’t all you are doesn’t mean that it isn’t a part of you, a part you can be proud of, no matter your mistakes. There is no shame in standing on the legends of others, if you fight to honor their cause.”

Mordred hesitated once more, but slowly, her arm reached out until at last, it gripped the azure hilt of the blade.

“It won’t accept me,” she whispered. “I’m not worthy.”

“Neither am I,” Jaune reminded her. “Pretty sure no one but mom really is in its eyes. But it’s not doing anyone any good as is. The sword is strongest as a shield.”

“I already have a sword.”

“So do I,” Jaune smirked. “But I’m not the one who usually throws theirs away in a fight.”

“Oh, haha, very funny,” Mordred snipped, snatching the blade from his grip. She strapped Avalon to her side and drew forth Excalibur, its shining silver steel entrancing in the artificial light, the sons of the King of Knights unable to turn away from the sword though they both knew victory was far from promised.

“Jaune?” Mordred muttered, worriedly. “I need you to promise me something.”

The blonde boy cocked an eyebrow. “Sure. Anything.”

“Don’t die.”

Jaune frowned. “Okay, five seconds ago, you said you understand the realities of war—”

“I know that you idiot, I said it!” Mordred snapped. “I know neither of us can guarantee that we’ll make it through, but I need you to give me a metaphorical promise, you know? Like it or not, unless we find a way to acquire new bodies and transfer our souls into them, father and I are both already dead. We’ve lived our lives, no matter how they turned out. But you, Lady Nora, Ren, Ruby, Blake, Yang, and all of you? Your time is now. The new world that will come out of this mess will be yours.”

“I already told you I’m not going to be a king.”

“Then be a shield like you said you’d be. Or a teacher, or whatever. Just promise me you’ll be there, okay?”

Jaune smiled and placed a comforting hand on his sibling’s shoulder. “Only, if you promise to stay with me until then. You can make your choice about your wish when we get to the grail, but until then I’ll need you by my side.”

Mordred pushed Avalon back on her belt and slid Excalibur in beside the scabbard. She smirked at him. “Of course you’ll need me. As if my idiot master would know the first thing to do in a warzone without the finest of knights at his side.”

Jaune chuckled at her bluster. “Pretty much. The only knight to ever surpass the King of Knights.”

“Precisely!” Mordred cheered. “Now come on, master. Like I said, I’m not letting Rider get the good bunks!”

She gripped his hand and dashed off in a hail of crimson sparks. Even as the wind forcibly whipped up his hair and rushed past his face, Jaune couldn’t help but laugh. Being dragged onward by his sister, it seemed so normal when you ignored all the circumstances surrounding it. So innocent.

Yet, even as his mind strayed, remembered the hell they were about to walk into, he found he couldn’t feel dread. Yes, there was fear, there was trepidation, but he knew he was ready. He could face what was coming. He could face the darkness and he could face his mother. One way or another.

After all, he wouldn’t be going alone.

Mordred jetted them onto the Atlesian flagship, the _Mantle_ , and they set off to war.


	73. Hope

“I’m going to miss the snow.”

“Really?” Ruby asked from her cross-legged seat on the cold metal floor of the _Mantle,_ sparks of projections sputtering in her palms. “Out of all the things in Atlas, the decent foods, the comfy beds, the city that floats a mile off the ground, the big bad Mage Killer is going to miss snow?”

Kiritsugu chuckled at his master’s snip. The pair sat within one of the Atlesian battleship’s many viewing corridors, staring out the thick plexiglass window into the horizon beyond, the mountainous landscape of Solitas finally giving way to open ocean. Their little hideaway was one of the few escapes the pair could find from the constant hubbub of soldiers going about their duties and keeping the vessel operating at optimal capacity. A quite useful activity, but unhelpful when Ruby needed isolation to practice her tracing.

The training, the little nudges in the right direction… it made him a bit nostalgic. It reminded him of nights in the shed with Shirou, of long afternoons in the forest with Summer. Good years, his time of redemption. But not his perfect time. If he had the chance now, if he was granted an impossible miracle to go back, he would have them all there, all his children, and his loved ones. But he hadn’t known the horror he would unleash then or the salvation he would require, so when those memories were made… they were bliss.

“Some of the best moments of my life occurred in snow,” he told Ruby. “I met your grandmother in the snow, her family had a castle there in a place called Germany.”

“Sounds nice,” Ruby remarked. “Were they nice?”

Kiritsugu frowned, the image of Acht casually throwing the naked Irisviel out into a blizzard to prove her resilience immediately springing to mind. “They were useful.”

“Of course they were,” Ruby sighed, the sparks dying in her hands. “Was… um…”

“Irisviel.”

“Thanks. Was Irisviel any different? I’m not really sure what to think of for the woman who married the Mage Killer.”

“Iri was nothing like them. Or me.” Kiritsugu couldn’t help the soft mournful smile that came to his lips, his wistful lust for the times that were polluted by his inexcusable guilt in their end. “Iri was… well… she was perfect. She was kind, beautiful, gentle, so… so excited for life and all it held. And yet, I’ve never known anyone stronger.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “You’ve met Servants. You _are_ a Servant. I’m pretty sure you’ve met people stronger than a mage. Unless she was secretly… was she a Heroic Spirit in disguise?”

“No,” Kiritsugu chuckled. “No, Iri wasn’t a Heroic Spirit. She was a homunculus, an artificial human, made to be the physical vessel of the Holy Grail. So, as our war progressed, and the Grail came closer to materializing as more Servants died, she became weaker and weaker. In time…”

“She died,” Ruby finished with a sigh. “We really need to find stories with happier endings.”

Kiritsugu nodded. “We do. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take some solace from the memories. Iri was raised to be the Grail. She knew, long before I did, that no matter who won, she would not survive Fuyuki. And yet, she never complained. She never let it break her. She walked to her death with her head held high, determined to make the world better than she left it. She knew that, even if we made to the end, I would have to kill her. And she never hated me for it. Even when I wavered, when my conviction faltered and I thought of running, she held me fast. She was… the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Ruby smirked. “You really loved her, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said simply, his mouth unable to shift into a smile or a frown.

For all his regrets, for all his failings, he would never wish to have never known Irisviel. Before he’d met her, he was a machine, brutal and unyielding. He still was quite often, being a Counter Guardian demanded as such, but before he had been like that every moment of every day. If he had continued as he was, he had no doubt he would have been dead within a year. His luck couldn’t have held forever.

But fate had led him to accept Old Man Acht’s offer to be the Einzbern’s champion in the Fourth Holy Grail War. When he’d inquired about the vessel he’d need to defend during the conflict, he’d been shown Irisviel. And when he’d demanded an animal form with no sense of self, something that could act as his tool instead of possibly getting in his way, the ancient mage had thrown her naked into the frozen wasteland of wolves and revenants. It was then Kiritsugu had found he did in fact still have some decency left and had immediately rescued her from the ordeal. Afterward, he had set to work personally educating her about the world so that she would not be helpless in the battle to come and she had in turn surprised with her insights on mankind.

The both of them falling in love was something that neither he nor Acht had considered. After all, who would be stupid enough to come to care for the person they knew they would have to kill?

It was never said he was the smartest of people.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” he asked Ruby.

“What?” his master replied, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you ever fallen in love?” Kiritsugu repeated, a wry smirk coming to his lips. “I am your grandfather. I’m supposed to want to embarrass you over these things.”

“With the end of the world barring down on our heads? Sure, why not?” Ruby scoffed, laying down on the cold steel floor. “Not much to tell anyway. I’m sixteen years old. I haven’t had the chance to do a lot of things, especially not fall in love.”

“Any crushes?”

“Not if weapons don’t count. Most guys only had eyes for Yang, and I was more than happy to let dad give her the overprotective speeches,” the red hooded girl replied. “Did you ever give mom those kinds of talks? The “break their legs before they break your heart” stuff?”

Kiritsugu shook his head. “I taught Summer to break people’s legs for many reasons, but I can’t say that was one of them. I suppose we always lived too far out of the way for me to notice any boys that had the eyes for her.”

“What about Aunt Illya?”

“The last time I saw her, she was nine going on ten, so that would be a no. Though, if she had gotten the chance to get to that age, I have no doubt I would have,” Kiritsugu noted with a nostalgic smile. “My princess always was daddy’s little girl.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “Princess?”

“It was what she liked to be called. She always loved being called ‘your highness’,” Kiritsugu explained. “Especially when she felt she’d earned it, usually by winning something. There was a game we’d used to play, in one of the safer areas of the forest close to the castle. At the end of winter, we’d go out into the snow, and competed to see who could spot the first chestnut buds of the season. I always cheated.”

“Sounds like you,” Ruby noted, “Going outside was dangerous while I was growing up. Patch’s defenses were pretty good, but there was always one or two Grimm that slipped through. Unless dad or Uncle Qrow was with us, we had to stay inside, get really good at video games.”

Kiritsugu smirked. “If only mage families were as willing to utilize technology. I could have played with Illya without keeping watch for wolves.”

Ruby chuckled. “Maybe.”

The red hooded girl picked up her head and gazed out into the sky, the endless sea of blue passing rapidly below them, clouds smudging their vision every now and again. Her brow furrowed into a pensive expression.

“Did you ever tell that chestnut story to mom?”

Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall. Maybe? I didn’t talk much about my past back then, but I might have mentioned the game, if not Illya. Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just… after she died, and after dad started coming out of his room again, the first thing we did together as a family was take a walk through the forest to visit her grave. And on the way back, when the last snowfall was melting, we played that game. Though, since Patch doesn’t have a lot of chestnut trees we mostly searched for wingnuts.”

“They’re like chestnuts.”

“Pretty much,” Ruby agreed, a wistful smile on her face. “When we got back to the house, Uncle Qrow was there with a puppy, a corgi named Zwei. He had come to give to dad to help with his therapy, but Yang and I were on him immediately. We wouldn’t let go of the cute little guy until dad pointed out we were choking him. Then we realized Uncle Qrow, of course, hadn’t actually bought any food for Zwei, so we had to go to town to get some. Dad got us ice cream on the way back to make up for it.”

Kiritsugu grinned. “It sounds like my daughter picked an excellent husband.”

“The best.”

Ruby frowned. “And now he’s at death’s door. Kirei put him at death’s door and if I kill both Salem and Gilgamesh, then I can’t save him.”

“Perhaps,” Kiritsugu admitted. “But then again, perhaps not.”

“What are you talking about? There are only two wishes, so unless you don’t want to use yours to kill Gilgamesh—”

“No, no, I will do what needs to be done, you don’t have to worry about that,” he assured her. “What I mean is that something might come along.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “You want me to believe something is going to magically come along that cure a wound from an Origin Round?”

“Maybe. I admit it isn’t likely, but a week ago would you have thought a robot could be fused with the memories and skills of a Heroic Spirit? A robot who you befriended the previous version of?”

“Fair enough,” Ruby conceded, her eyes clouded with indecision. “But I can’t just wait around for the impossible.”

“It would be irresponsible to do so. But that doesn’t mean there’s any harm in hoping for it,” Kiritsugu advised. “It could even be helpful. Because as much as we all love spouting that we want to be heroes of justice, and defend people because it is the right thing to do and however much that might be true, in the end, it is the people we care about, the people we love, that we want to protect, to save. Iri wanted Illya to be my reason to keep going, my reason to make a better world, for her. If you hope to find a miracle, beyond what you need to do the right thing, you just might find yourself stronger than ever, better equipped to obtain both.”

“Hope,” Ruby muttered. “Why should I hope if there’s no way it will come true? All it’ll do is hurt.”

Kiritsugu smirked wryly. “To be a mage is to walk with death. I suspect a huntress is little different on that count. Pain was inevitable the moment you decided to do this. Suffering, on the other hand, that is optional. If you have hope, there is something to strive for, to live for. A better tomorrow. And you’ll fight all the harder to see it. There may be a limit to what you can do, but if you have hope, then maybe both you, and perhaps those you give hope to, will surprise you.”

“Save who I can, so that they can save who they can,” Ruby whispered, a note of wistful nostalgia in her voice. She hoped to her feet. “Thank you, Assassin. I… think I need to check on something.”

“Of course,” Kiritsugu nodded. “I should meet with Rider anyway. There is a strategy I need his help to develop for the war.”

“Good plan. He’s got a good mind for war,” Ruby said. She began to walk away down the corridor but paused before she could leave. “Kiritsugu?”

“Yes, master.”

“I know we haven’t exactly had the time to get to know each other, war and everything, end of the world on the horizon. And I know we probably won’t have that time before it all ends,” Ruby declared. “But, for whatever it’s worth, I think I would have liked having you as a grandpa.”

Kiritsugu smiled. “Thank you, Ruby. And for whatever it’s worth, I could not be more proud of the granddaughter I do have.”

He might have imagined it, but in the artificial light of the airship, he thought he saw Ruby’s lips quirk upward into a grin. A moment later however, it was gone and she’d stalked down the hall.

His own smile disappeared then. He prayed that his encouragement would be enough to reignite the fires of hope within his master, to galvanize her into more than the passionless tool of a Hero of Justice. Because, loath as he was to admit it, Lancer had been correct. His methods alone had not saved anyone. He’d tried with everything he’d had and Shirou had done the same, and both had ended up with only servitude to Alaya as their reward.

But Ruby, she could be more. Archer had believed in her, in what she could be. And that meant that she needed to have hope for the next day, the new world, so that she could make sure it existed.

And anything else, anything that did require a pitiless, merciless, hopeless Mage Killer? Well, he had already lived his life, there was no future for him beyond the war.

The least he could do for wrecking the world would be to do his part putting it back together again.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

“And you think these silver eyes can save Weiss?” Winter inquired desperately.

Blake Belladonna flinched at her eagerness, managing only a shrug. “Maybe. They worked on Mr. Arc, but he wasn’t even fully infected. The corruption has been in Weiss for a lot longer.”

“But there’s still a chance,” Winter insisted.

Hearing the various terrible fates of her family had been a punch to the gut for the Atlas Specialist. Her little brother, though she been far more detached from his upbringing that she would have liked, murdered by a devil worse than any nightmare. She could still remember watching his squishy, innocent baby body roll about in his crib, so excited to get outside the bars and experience the world around him. She’d heard from her mother the route he had chosen to take to accomplish that goal, but even if she was disappointed by the backstabber he had become, she found it hard to blame him alone for it. With only their father as a role model and both her and Weiss leaving for school at the first opportunity, he didn’t exactly have much of a chance otherwise. And hearing the news, she wondered if it was her fault, for joining the military and leaving him and Weiss without a shield against the world.

Of course, when she’d expressed that sentiment to her mother, she’d been slapped upside the head. The only person to blame for the wreck of a family Jacques had created was Jacques.

And yet, upon hearing that he was gone too, that the abusive bastard who had ravaged her mother and her siblings’ psyches had finally gotten what he’d deserved… she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. She didn’t know why, he certainly wasn’t worthy of it, after all he’d done.

But, she did. Perhaps that spoke well of her, that she was capable of feeling compassion for him after everything. Probably not. It just meant she was human. She wouldn’t miss him, but she couldn’t help but mourn for what he could have been.

And whatever she felt for her lost brother and father, it just made her horror at Weiss’ fate all the worse.

Her sister, her beautiful baby sister, the little girl she’d unlocked the aura of, that she’d read bedtime stories to and taught the basics of swordplay to, had been brainwashed by the Mother of Grimm into becoming a monster. A monster who had summoned and trio of heroes, including a woman Winter had met, and corrupted them in turn. A demon that had killed Qrow. All while she was sitting in Atlas doing _nothing_.

The world was at stake, and all the millions of innocent people who lived in it, unaware of the Armageddon that could crash down upon them at any moment. Winter was a huntress and a specialist. It was her duty to protect the masses from the coming darkness, whatever that required of her. And if that meant… putting Weiss down… she… she would. She’d have to.

But she’d be damned if she wouldn’t look into _every single other option_ first.

To that end, she’d sought out Blake Belladonna as soon as the fleet took off, she’d seemed the most hopeful for rescuing Weiss during the debrief. Unfortunately, what possible solutions she’d offered hadn’t been the most feasible.

Blake grimaced, exchanging a worried glance with her Servant, Lancer. “It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“What about Assassin?” Winter inquired. “He used to be Kirei Kotomine’s Servant, but his contract was severed. How did that happen?”

“Archer,” Blake explained. “He used his tracing to summon a dagger called Rule Breaker. Apparently, it can destroy any magical contract or curse.”

“Then that’s it,” Winter decided, a thrilled smile blossoming over her face. “Archer transferred his abilities to Ruby, correct? So, all we have to do is have her trace this Rule Breaker and we can free Weiss without running the risk of her silver eyes tearing her apart.”

“Maybe,” Blake replied, nervously rubbing the back of her head. “Archer traced it after he was hit by the Origin Round, so it’s possible that it was one of the Noble Phantasms that survived. We’d have to check with Ruby to be sure. Though, I’m not entirely sure if it will work on Weiss, and from what Ruby’s told us, summoning a Noble Phantasm in the middle of combat won’t be as simple for her as it was for Archer.”

“Who cares if it’s simple or not?” Winter argued. “If it can be done, then we can do it.”

“My master did not mean any offense, Lady Winter,” Lancer assured her. “But you must understand, as much as Lady Ruby is trying to hide it, Archer’s Reality Marble isn’t completely healthy for her. When she traces a weapon, much less a Noble Phantasm… well, suffice to say there is a reason she is practicing her alacrity. Even then, Rule Breaker is hardly an optimal weapon for combat. It is short, brittle, and jagged. Archer was only able to hit Assassin with it because Kiritsugu was too distracted by his son’s death to notice the blade. Replicating such circumstances with Weiss Alter will be… difficult to say the least, especially with the Hound of Chulainn as her guardian.”

Winter frowned. She knew exactly how crucial an optimal weapon was to landing a blow in combat. There was a reason most huntsmen had their weapons custom built to best support their fighting style. Using a tool you were unfamiliar with could be a death sentence against a skilled opponent. Assuming they could land a strike, and with as Weiss was there was no guarantee of that, getting so close that their other weapon would be useless would leave them wide open. And all for something they didn’t even know would work.

Still…

“I’ll check in with Ruby. See if she’s capable of reproducing this Rule Breaker,” Winter informed them. “Thank you for your help, Blake.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” the young huntress deferred. “Weiss is my teammate and my friend. I won’t let her die because of Salem. The others… they’ve given up hope, but they’ll come around. With any luck. They still care, they just… Qrow was their uncle.”

“I know,” Winter replied. “I don’t begrudge their intentions. Strictly speaking as a huntress, it is the responsible thing to do.”

“When push comes to shove, we do what we must,” Blake said, far-off look in her amber eyes. “But when does ‘what we must’ become ‘what we want’, and escalation.”

Winter smiled. “That was one of your father’s speeches, correct? The rally at Haven six months before he stepped down.”

“Really? It was just something I remember him saying around the house. I didn’t watch that speech. We weren’t on great terms back then, I was siding more and more with Sienna Khan, and he and mom were trying to keep everyone from joining her. I wanted to get back at him, for being a ‘coward’. Funny. It’s the end of the world, and I haven’t talked to either of them since they stepped down, and I really wish they were here to give me some advice.”

“Your father is a wise man,” Winter concurred.

Blake chuckled. “Not the thing you’d expect a Schnee to say about the former leader of the White Fang.”

“True, but when you investigate a terrorist organization’s origins, you tend to notice the virtue of its past, before it became a terrorist organization,” Winter responded. “Your father built the White Fang from nothing, and while he led it, it was a virtuous group.”

“Virtuous, but ineffective,” Blake noted. “Sienna didn’t gain popularity for no reason.”

Winter shrugged. “Perhaps, but it was not as pointless as some would think. Change, real change, is not always as instantaneous as it should be, as evil often unfortunately is. But it is there. In the minds that raised on it, that educated in the struggles of the oppressed. They will know more the last generation, and bit by bit, because of your father’s strength of will and principles, they will leave the prejudices of the past behind. It will never be perfect, but soon enough those foolish enough to hold such petty hatreds will be the minority and the systematic failures set up by past ignorance will be corrected.”

“And Sienna’s reign will have tarnished that,” Blake mumbled.

“It may have set it back, but that has not halted progress. Even now, Sienna Khan rallies to our aid, does she not? It will not erase the blood she has shed for her cause, but fighting alongside the Atlesian military to save the world will certainly create some goodwill. Combined with mother retaking control of SDC and reverting our more atrocious policies, and who knows. Change might just arrive sooner than we’d think.”

“Assuming we save the world.”

“Well, yes, that,” Winter conceded. She placed a comforting hand on Blake’s shoulder, something the PR department would have been all over, a Schnee advising a desperate faunus, ignoring that said faunus girl had survived things that would have destroyed lesser men a dozen times over. “But even in the darkest times, there is light, there is love. Even when my father would shout and scream and domineer the entire household, I had Weiss. I had our butler Klein. And in time, I had General Ironwood. And because of them, I survived to be who I am today. Focus on the good, Blake, so you can survive what’s coming.”

Blake furrowed her brow. She looked to Lancer. “The good, huh?”

“It will do you better than the bad,” Winter assured her.

“Give me hope. We could certainly use a bit more of that to go around,” Blake smiled. “Thank you, Winter.”

“As you said, there’s no need,” Winter answered with a matching grin. “Any friend of Weiss’, any true friend of Weiss’, is a friend of mine. And with any luck, we’ll bring her home.”

“With any luck.”

Winter nodded and turned to leave the young huntress’ quarters, but Lancer stepped forward before she could exit the room.

“Lady Winter, you are fairly knowledgeable about the White Fang, are you not?”

“Lancer?” Blake asked.

Winter raised an eyebrow at the Servant’s query. “Fairly so, I suppose. The Specialist Corps has been one of the foremost counterforces to the Fang for years now. But I doubt I could tell you anything that your master couldn’t.”

“With all due respect, to both my master and you, my lady, I believe I need to hear from an adversary of the White Fang as much as those who favor it,” Lancer said. “I need to know just how far my old master would have really gone for the grail.”

“Your old master? Adam Taurus?” Winter frowned. The Blood-Soaked Bull was indeed a well-known figure among the Atlas ranks. Well known and infamous. “There’s quite a bit to cover on him. To make a long story short, if he were here, we’d probably have to hide him from the troops for his own safety. I’d wager at least ten percent of them have lost a friend or family member to his actions.”

The Hero of the Spear frowned at the ground in shame. Was he unaware of his master’s true nature? Was he indoctrinated somehow? No, unlikely. How could Adam Taurus ever treat a human with anything less than absolute scorn?

“If it isn’t too much to ask, Specialist,” Lancer said softly. “I’d like to hear the long version, if at all possible.”

“That would take more time than we have,” Winter informed him. “I am one of the General’s senior staff for this operation. If I am to complete my duties and speak with Ruby, I will have to go now. I can have all relevant files on Adam Taurus sent to you, however.”

“That is fine,” Lancer compromised. “I understand the demands of duty. Thank you, Lady Winter.”

Winter nodded. “It is no problem. I wish you both a good evening.”

“Thank you.”

“Winter,” Blake called out just as the room’s door _swished_ open. “Weiss’ plan to turn the three of us into Alters, once she sees you, you realize… well…”

“She will likely expand it to include me,” Winter finished. “The thought did cross my mind. But ultimately, that is a matter to be dealt with when it arises.”

In a way, it was comforting that Weiss Alter’s grand ambition as part of Salem’s plan was to reunite with her team. Her sister had in rare times confided in her that she feared being the loneliest of all, lost and isolated from all she cared for by father’s constant attempts to keep her in Atlas. Now, Salem had coopted her more than Jacques ever could have, and her greatest wish was still for friends. Perhaps, she would even see fit to include her and mother in the new black family she wished to create. One way or another, she would be reunited with her sister when everything was over.

In heaven, hell, or oblivion.


	74. A Conqueror's Speech

Iskandar sighed as he hazed open the magnificent ocean before him. Like the Okeanos of his dreams, it stretched ever forward past the horizon, an insurmountable barrier and wonder, a challenge to be met by the will and ingenuity of mankind. One that the _Mantle_ and its fleet demonstrated had been met and surpassed. Conquered.

And yet, given recent events, the king found little joy in that knowledge.

With Yang safely resting in her cabin, the King of Conquerors was left with only his own thoughts to occupy him. And as glorious as the Atlesian flagship was, a hero could only stare at stark white walls for so long before they became tedious. It was not long before he made his way to the battleship’s outer hull, standing upon its tip as he observed the raging waves below, the rushing winds of the sky buffering the ancient hero fast enough that they would have sent any non-Servant flying. As they neared the Grimmlands, not even on the horizon yet, the air whipped and raged like the storms of his chariot.

Yang would have whooped for joy, were she not consumed by her own doubt.

And Waver, back in the war, even near the end, he would have panicked like a babbling madman. Then he would have pulled up his chin, narrowed his brow, and pushed through anyway, his will unable to be barred by his instinctive fear.

But as he was now, the Rider wondered if Hazel Rainart would have even flinched, allowed himself to feel anything in the life he had grown far too weary of living. The life he had encouraged him to live as long as he could.

Two masters, both of whom he had thought to have helped, both who he was powerless to save. With one of them having been driven down his path because of his final order. True, predicting that his old friend would become immortal and be turned into some kind of warped Heroic Spirit was a bit more than he could have been aware of at the time, but he couldn’t help but still lay some measure of fault at his own feat.

A king should never regret. The past could not and should never be changed, lest the decisions of both him and his prized companions be disgraced. Yet, in his moment of weakness, he felt he finally understood at least a bit of the impulse that had led the King of Knights to wish to change her past.

He had espoused to Waver to live his life to the absolute fullest, whatever he chose to do. But when life provided despair with no recourse, did that not mean that such monumental and endless sorrow would be felt all the deeper? Of course, it did. He’d known that for a long time, and had accepted that the inevitable lows would be a price he would pay for the ever-rising heights he would reach.

But, even after all his mistakes, he’d never really considered what would become of his friends that he gave that philosophy to, who hadn’t understood what his way of life meant thanks to bountiful boasting of its merits.

It almost made him grateful when he sensed a familiar, decidedly unwelcome presence join him on the hull.

“Assassin,” Iskandar remarked without turning around. “What brings you here?”

Kiritsugu Emiya strode across the metal and came to stand beside the King of Conquerors. He pulled out a cigarette from the folds of his robes and placed it in his mouth, a spark of magecraft lighting the edge. His face blurred an instant before the racing winds blew the stick out. Iskandar supposed that was one use of time alter magic.

Iskandar couldn’t say he trusted the Servant of the Shadows but seeing as he had allowed him to sense his approach, he didn’t think the lithe man was there for a fight. After all, as little as he understood the killer, he felt confident that he was an ally of Ruby, or at the very least against Salem and Kotomine.

Still, he could not find himself to be the least bit fond of his fellow Servant. Even putting aside his usual distaste for the Assassin class, what little he knew of Kiritsugu Emiya did not paint the picture of a man he would condone. He had been Saber’s master throughout the entirety of the Fourth Holy Grail War and never once had he had the courage to stand by her side in battle. He’d merely kept to the shadows, and if Lancer’s rage was anything to go by, disgraced his Servant with despicable tactics. Archer had told him that his father would be one of the few people Iskandar would not be able to find common ground with, and though he was always open to being surprised, he didn’t think it was likely.

“I was hoping you could help me, Rider,” Kiritsugu explained. “I need to come with a strategy to defeat someone like you.”

“Someone like me? Ha!” Iskandar chortled. “And who do you think you will face who is anything like me, Assassin?”

“Kirei.”

The King of Conquerors cocked a dangerous eyebrow. “I knew you were a fool, Assassin, but to compare me to that black-hearted cretin?”

Kiritsugu shrugged. “It’s not as much of an insult as you’d think. I’m more like him than you, just not in the right places. Not in the areas I need to understand.”

“And what areas would those be?”

“The why,” Assassin frowned. “Everything Kirei has ever done, he has done for joy. He has slaughtered, tortured, and butchered countless people, people he has acknowledged care about him, and he’s done it with a smile on his face. He has committed sins, knowing their evil, believing them evil, and then he takes joy from it.”

“And you can’t understand that?” Iskandar inquired. “From what I understand, you have committed a great deal of “evil” yourself.”

“Yes, but only to prevent a greater evil.” Kiritsugu frowned. “And I certainly didn’t _enjoy_ it. Sin is not something to take satisfaction in, even if it must be done. People can do evil not understanding it’s evil, or seeing them in themselves in the right regardless, or not caring, I can understand that. But to believe that it is evil and then keep doing it for pleasure… I just can’t understand him. And I need to understand him if I am going to keep him from getting to Ruby.”

Iskandar smirked. At least he was doing it for the right reason. To stand as a barrier between his granddaughter and the psychopath who wished to break her down and destroy her, that was something he could help with, especially since Yang would kill him if he did anything to jeopardize her sister. Not to mention the explicit danger for them all if that sister was somehow compromised.

“Why do think that I would understand him any better?” the King of Conquerors asked. “I did not make a habit of committing evil for the hell of it in life.”

“Oh please,” Kiritsugu refuted. “You invaded another country without provocation using century-old battles as an excuse. You weren’t unfamiliar with the horrors of war, you participated in your father’s conquest of Greece. And yet, when you rose to power, you chose to start another war, because you thought it would be fun.”

“It was,” Iskandar recalled simply, a smile rising to his lips. Even if he questioned his philosophy, the memory of his campaign and the men who had fought beside him would never fail to brighten his heart. “My armies marched across the land and conquered the armies of Persia, India, and Egypt in glorious combat.”

Kiritsugu sneered. “Glorious. Only a hero would call that hell ‘glorious’. Only a tyrant would willingly force it on others.”

Iskandar shrugged. “Perhaps. I am a tyrant, I make no excuses for that. But the guiding will of conquest, to make one’s rule and spirit known across the world and beyond, to take in all the wonderous attributes of all the cultures of humanity and unite them under your single glorious vision, it is not without its own merit, especially in my time, where men did not often live long.”

“Not enough to justify mass murder.”

The King of Conquerors sighed. “I see Archer was correct. You and I will never get along.”

“We don’t need to get along,” Kiritsugu replied. “By the end of this mess, we’ll both be dead again anyway.”

“Oh?” Iskandar raised an eyebrow. “Do you don’t my ability to claim the Grail, Assassin?”

“No,” Kiritsugu said. “Even if I die however, as long as Yang still has a Command Seal, she can use it on you, use it to make you wish to save her father. Don’t tell me you never thought of it?”

“Of course, I’ve thought of it. I’ve just dismissed it as the ridiculousness that it is,” Iskandar revealed. “Yang will not betray me like that.”

“Why? The point of a Servant is to act as the tool of their master. The entire point of the Command Seals was to force even the winning Servant to commit suicide,” Kiritsugu pointed out. “You two have formed a friendship, that’s inarguable. But her father raised her, taught her to fight. Even if she would normally find such a thing as usurping your will to be… morally questionable, people tend to discard their morals when they’re desperate enough.”

Iskandar’s brow crinkled in thought. Assassin was not wrong after all, desperation drove people to do things they never would have dreamed of under normal conditions. Hazel was a perfect example of such. He couldn’t find it within himself to blame his old friend for his fall, an eternity alone with All the World’s Evils whispering in his mind would be impossible for anyone to resist. But in the end, he had fallen.

Would Yang betray him too? Her mind was confused as it was, her sister so close to being lost to her. Would she be able to stay to the high road if it meant losing one of the only family she had left?

…

Perhaps.

And that was enough.

“People do tend to fail themselves in their most desperate hour,” Iskandar admitted. “But not always. My strength has always come from my faith in my comrades. For as many roads as I am betrayed, there are a dozen more where my hopes are met, and a hundred more where they are surpassed tenfold. I will remain at the front, an inspiration to those who would follow me to live their life to the fullest. It may end in tragedy, but better to have lived and lost then to cower and have never known.”

“That’s debatable,” Kiritsugu sighed. “Look where my trying has gotten us.”

“Trying, Assassin, not living. You threw yourself into your ideals and their impossibility led you to the grail, trying to fix humanity. But no one can ‘fix’ it. It will get better with time, it certainly is more ‘civilized’ then it was in my time, but it will never be perfect. And thus, it shall be greater than perfection itself. Have faith in people, Kiritsugu Emiya. Live in the time you have left and be happy.”

Kiritsugu frowned. “I’d rather make sure everyone else gets a chance to keep being happy. It’s not like I’d deserve it anyway.”

“People rarely get what they deserve.” Iskandar sighed. “You need not feel guilty that you are happy. It may not be pure joy, but it will be something.”

“Pure joy…” Kiritsugu muttered. His dark eyes widened, and a victorious smirk rose to his face. “Yes, that’s it. I finally get it. I’ll need some grenades but that… that could work. Thank you, Rider.”

“Um, you’re welcome.”

The King of Conquerors had no idea what revelation Assassin had just had whether about himself or Kirei Kotomine, but he was glad to have been of some use, with the crimson robed man disappearing into spirit form and heading back inside.

Though, in truth, Iskandar was glad for his talk with EMIYA. Sometimes, he needed a reminder that for all his path had consequences, the others he had spurned had their own faults. Perhaps not better, nor worse, but different, with each individual needing to choose which burdens they were willing to bear. He had made his choice as the right one for him, and if he saw Hazel again, he would do his best to help him find his own path once more. Though it didn’t seem likely he would see his old friend again, after the White Fang HQ and Haven, Salem would have had to have been a moron to let him anywhere near the King of Conquerors. It was entirely plausible that he would just have to leave his former master to his fate, whatever that was.

But his current master was still within his power to assist. Yang was drowning in indecision and terror. It was about time he got his act together as a Servant and king and galvanized her to do the same.

Superweapon or not, she needed to make a choice regarding her sister. Because the water below was turning black, colossal shadows shifting within the waves.

They had entered the frontier of the Grimmlands.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Yang woke up from her nap at Atlas Command to find that she’d missed the catch-up meeting with Ironwood. Now, she was wandering the pristine white halls of the flagship of the Atlesian Navy, just as lost as she was before, both actually and in her thoughts.

All around her, armored soldiers marched about the halls, some with their faces hidden by their faceless helmets, some clearly panicking as they fidgeted with their guns. She didn’t know exactly how much Ironwood had told them about the Grail War, but he had to have at least briefed them about where they were going. He didn’t seem the type to take his entire army into the Grimmlands and not let them know at least the basics of what they were walking into.

And even if he was, essentially the entire navy had been assembled for a single operation. Whoever didn’t get that something big was going down when that happened was a special kind of idiot.

There was a tension in the air, a miasma of dread that had fallen over the ship. Even if they didn’t know the exact details, no one would be able to miss the danger on the horizon.

Well, except for the people heading for a lit room on the side of the corridor. And based on the familiar, succulently sweet aroma filtering out, Yang could make a guess at what the cause for the surprise celebration was.

She turned into the mess hall and found things she both expected and didn’t. She wasn’t surprised to find Ren standing behind a stainless-steel kitchen counter serving up platefuls of pancakes to squads of Atlesian troops, dribbles of red sap syrup dripping every stack. What did surprise her was the image of Nora laying passed out over a table instead of consuming all the flapjacks herself, a line of crimson syrup running out of her mouth. Mordred sat next to her at the table, viciously devouring her own five plate portion.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Jaune mused, coming up to stand beside Yang. “Nora wouldn’t eat those cruddy rations they handed out, so Ren asked Ironwood if he could fix something up for her. Pretty soon, some of the off-duty troops smelled him preparing her usual portion and one thing led to another and this happened.”

“And the reason Nora didn’t eat her usual portion?”

Jaune cringed. “Apparently, she was already pretty tired out from their… stuff. You know, this morning.”

Yang’s eyes widened, glancing back and forth between the serenely smiling green-robed huntsmen, and the titanic, explosive huntress. “He… tired _her_ out?”

“Apparently Ren is a man of many hidden talents.”

“I’ll say.” Yang grinned, a bit of her old moxie rising to her face.

For all that it was amusing, it warmed her heart to know Nora and Ren could enjoy such love even with how close they were to the end of the line. They had known each other for practically all their lives and despite the apocalypse looming before them, they were enjoying the springtime of their newly evolved relationship, from eating together to less innocent desires.

It was simple and happy, and she couldn’t help the spark of joy that she felt for them. Maybe if she was lucky a bit of it would rub off on her.

“Don’t suppose there’s a plate for one more?” she asked.

Jaune shrugged. “The line’s pretty long, but I think I’ve got a workaround.”

They walked through the chattering masses of Atlesian troops, pushing through the tide of armored men and women until they arrived at Mordred and Nora’s table.

“Saber?” Jaune opened. “Do you think you can spare a plate?”

Mordred paused in inhaling her platters to glare up at her master. “They’re mine.”

“Come on, Saber, Ren will fix you up a new plate as soon as he’s done with the soldiers, but Yang hasn’t gotten any yet.”

“That’s not a reason to share. I’ll have what’s mine and take the extra when it’s ready. I owe her nothing.”

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “You stole my jacket when I was in a coma.”

Mordred frowned. With a pout, she shoved one of her plates across the table. “Sorry.”

Yang smiled and took a seat, snatching up a pair of utensils. “Water under the bridge, _Mor-Mor_.”

“Don’t call me that.” Mordred snapped. She pointed to Nora. “Only she can call me that.”

Nora responded to said compliment with a thunderous burp before drifting back to sleep.

Jaune smirked. “Does that mean I can—”

“No.”

“Got it.”

Yang sighed. “Sorry. But in all seriousness, don’t worry about it. We’ve been saving each other’s lives enough by now that little things like that shouldn’t really matter. We’re friends by default at this point.”

Mordred snorted. “Friends don’t make other friends starve.”

“It’s one plate, Mordred. You’ve got four others,” Jaune pointed out. “And you don’t actually need to eat anyway.”

Mordred grumbled and went back to stuffing her face. Yang chuckled a bit before digging into her own sweet pancakes. She didn’t know how Ren learned to cook as well as he could when he and Nora were wandering the Anima wilderness, but by the gods, it was absolutely delicious. His lessons with Archer certainly hadn’t hurt either.

She quickly packed away the last of her flapjacks and licked her lips to get the last of the sweet syrup.

“Thanks, guys,” she said. The food hadn’t solved her dilemma by a long shot, but it was certainly better than thinking about it on an empty stomach.

“No problem,” Jaune assured her. “But, are you good Yang?”

The blond huntress froze. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you think I’m good?”

“Other than the fact that we’re walking into the apocalypse, you mean?” Jaune asked sarcastically. “Well, I don’t mean to presume anything, but you don’t usually stand in doorways staring at everyone. You’re usually in the thick of everything.”

“Everything?” Yang replied, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, Jaune, I like to think I’ve matured a little from the hotheaded idiot I was at Beacon.”

“That was only six months ago.”

“Like I said, ‘a little’,” Yang smirked. “Besides, the fact that you’re in an airship without losing your stomach proves I’m not the only one whose improved, _Vomit Boy_.”

“Vohmiitt Bhoy?” Mordred inquired, her mouth full to capacity. She swallowed done her fill and grinned at Yang. “Oh, I need to hear the story behind that.”

“No, you really don’t,” Jaune protested. “Come on, Yang, I said I was sorry about the shoes.”

“And I forgive you,” Yang told him honestly. “But as a fellow older sibling, I am required to provide embarrassing stories so that you can be made fun of.”

“No! No, you are not!”

“Silence, master,” Mordred ordered, before smirking like a cat. “Tell me everything.”

Yang smirked and divulged everything, from the initial puking incident on the airship to the time he said the faunus won the Battle of Fort Castle with binoculars. But the end of it, Jaune groaning into his hands and Mordred clutching her stomach as she chortled.

“Hahahaha! Jaune, you may be the bravest fool I’ve ever met,” she exclaimed. “No wonder Lavender has you wrapped around her finger.”

“Me being a bit more… tolerant with Lavender than the rest of you demons has no connection to my admittedly questionable personal presentation skills. I give Amber the same kind of leeway.” Jaune argued. “Older siblings are supposed to dote on younger siblings, it’s just the way of the world. You’ve got to agree with that, right, Yang?”

Yang’s jubilant smile immediately faded.

“Well, yeah, I guess,” she replied numbly. “I mean, I’m not sure Ruby and I are the best example of that.”

“Are you kidding?” Jaune exclaimed. “My problem with my sisters was that they wouldn’t stop making me play dress up. Ruby’s biggest problem with you is that you won’t let her eat all the cookies she wants.”

“Just because she drinks milk does not mean she gets a whole jar to go with it,” Yang grumbled, before shaking her head. “But, that’s not what I mean. Ruby and I are hardly normal siblings. I mean, after Raven left and Summer died and dad… took a bit to get himself back together, I practically raised her. I had to grow up fast so she wouldn’t have to. Lot of good that did with everything that’s happened.”

“What about your uncle?” Mordred inquired, her brow furrowed in a serious expression. “He seemed like he would be more than willing to help back then.”

Yang shrugged. “He did what he could, but with his semblance it wasn’t safe for him to stick around for long stretches. His jobs for Ozpin didn’t give him much free time anyway. But he was the one who finally managed to get dad out of his slump.”

“Nora mentioned those two were fond of each other,” Mordred nodded. “Never thought I’d meet a family crazy enough to rival my own.”

“I… wouldn’t go that far,” Yang said. For all that her dad had married two-thirds of his team, none of them were related to him. Or, you know, temporarily changed into the opposite sex by magic.

“Well, of course it doesn’t match my parents,” Mordred agreed. “My mother never gave a damn about me, I was just her weapon to destroy father. And he, well, he was too perfect to properly handle the matter when he found out. Then there was the rebellion and you know how that turned out.”

“Your mother… thought you were a weapon?” Yang muttered. “As a weapon?”

“Of course, the entire reason she created me was so that she could manipulate me into destroying him,” Mordred scowled. “I was the witch’s pawn, and I fell for it hook, line and sinker.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jaune comforted her. “Like you said, she was manipulating you from birth. What could you have done?”

“A great deal, but there is no use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done, and the witch is rotting in hell where she belongs.”

Yang looked nervously at her hands. “What… what if she didn’t mean to use you? What if she did care, but she didn’t know what to do about it?”

Mordred cocked a confused eyebrow. “What the hell are you talking about? She totally meant to use me.”

“I know, but… but hypothetically speaking… ah, forget it. I don’t want to insult you or anything…”

“No, it’s fine,” Mordred assured her, calmer than she usually was. “The depths of Morgana’s villainy… it is difficult to conceive the sheer horror of it all if one did not experience her depravity firsthand. And given your situation, it’s only natural that you’d wish that she really cared.”

Yang’s eyes went wide. “Wha—What do you mean? What situation?”

“Your mother obviously,” Mordred declared. “You wish that despite all the horrible things she did, despite abandoning you, that she did care about you deep down. You’re being foolish and stupid trying to project that kind of virtue onto _my_ mother, but I suppose there is little harm in hoping for it from Raven. You know, except for her being doomed and all.”

“Mordred,” Jaune growled.

“What? I’m not wrong.”

Yang couldn’t argue with that. Though she had seen proof that Raven had cared about her, that didn’t help anything when she knew her days were as numbered as her father’s. Or that her mistake had led to her impending demise.

But… the aspect of Mordred’s story that concerned her the most wasn’t that. It was what her mother had done to her, using her as a pawn in her game, unaware until after her own death. She’d been used as a tool, a weapon.

Yang was afraid, among other things, that if she told Ruby about her origins, she would consider herself just as false, as expendable. But she had the right to know. Yang was no Morgana, everything she did, she did to try to protect Ruby. She loved her with all her heart and trusted her with her life.

Which meant… which meant she had to trust her with her own, whether to live or to die in a worthy cause. No matter Yang’s fears about Ea possibly taking over, her sister had a right to know exactly what she was. Otherwise, she would just be using Ruby as a tool to save her, without consideration for what her sibling would want. It was the same as Raven quest to resurrect Summer, a burden borne out of love, but ultimately driven by guilt.

She couldn’t allow that, not now. They were marching on the gates of hell and if they were not careful, their sins and their guilt would drag them down to the darkest depths. They had to rise above, no matter the challenge, no matter the uncertainty. As Rider would say, they needed to conquer.

The intercom of the ship suddenly crackled to life. The Atlesian soldiers all went silent immediately and turned to the intercom.

“ _And I just hold this down here?”_

_“Yes. You’re live now, across the entire fleet.”_

_“Glorious!”_

Yang grinned. Speak of the devil…

Jaune cocked an eyebrow. “Iskandar?”

“What’s that idiot doing now?” Mordred moaned. “What could possibly be so important that he’d dare to interrupt my meal?”

_“Worthy warriors of Atlas! I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors!”_

Yang let out a hearty laugh. “I think he’s making a speech.”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

“Hey. You ever wonder why we’re here?”

“I don’t know, man. I mean, why are we here? Is some cosmic coincidence, did space dust just happen to make us? Or is there actually a god somewhere out there, with a plan and everything?”

“What? I meant why are we on this ship?” Private First Class Dexter Grif clarified, reeling back from his squadmate Private First Class Richard Simmons. The pair sat within their wind dust powered gunship in one of the battleship’s hangers, Grif leaning back in the cockpit while Simmons double-checked his systems in the gunner’s port.

“Oh. Right, of course that’s what you meant.”

“Do you wanna talk about it—”

“No, no, I’m good. You were saying?”

“Right,” Grif continued. “I mean, we’re us. We were shipped out to the middle of nowhere to a canyon no one cared about to test out those special specialists’ gear—”

“Freelancers.”

“I know. But they get annoyed when I call them special specialists. I don’t think they like the redundancy.”

“It is in the title.”

“Yup. But I mean, all of a sudden, _we_ get transferred to the _Mantle_? Us? And the entire fleet gets mobilized for an attack on the Grimm homeland? Since when do the Grimm even have a homeland?”

“Maybe Intelligence just learned about it?” Simmons suggested. “I mean, Command ESR has to do their job right eventually?”

“Since when?”

“Since the general said so!” Their commanding officer, Staff Sergeant Sarge declared, stomping into the cockpit from the vehicle’s troop compartment. “And I don’t want to hear another word out of you doubting him, Griff. We can’t pull off contingency plans A through Z if you get busted for insubordination.”

“Is that because they all start with you shooting me?”

“Of course not. We shoot you twice, always remember to double-tap, you dirtbag.”

“Right, Sarge,” Grif snarked. “How could I forget?”

“I always double-tap, Sarge,” Simmons called pleasantly.

“Good man, Simmons,” Sarge said. “Now where the hell is Donut? We’re on high alert!”

“I think he heard something about pancakes in the mess hall and ran off.”

“ _Humph_. Lazy private shirking his duties. He better bring me back some pancakes…” Sarge muttered. “Anyway, as I was saying, we’ve got our orders. If the general thinks these Grimmlands are dangerous enough to warrant pulling us out of our merciless crusade against those accursed _Blues_ …”

“Do you guys call for us?” a trooper in blue armor shouted from the next fighter over.

“No, Caboose!” Grif yelled back. “Sarge is just ranting again!”

“Oh, okay! Have fun!”

“… And that means we are gonna pack those hellbeasts with so much fire dust their ashes will be carbonized into glass!”

“I’m not sure that’s how that works, Sarge.”

_“And I just hold this down here?”_

_“Yes. You’re live now, across the entire fleet.”_

_“Glorious!”_

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Grif asked, strangely compelled to sit up straight and stare at the hanger’s intercom, a movement mirrored by everyone else in the bay, including Simmons and Sarge.

_“Worthy warriors of Atlas! I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors! Your general has informed me that you have all been briefed on the dangers we approach, the hell of All the World’s Evils.You know of the warriors that await us, bound in the shackles of darkness, made to ravage a world they once called their own. Four, in particular, you have been told are beyond your strength.”_

“What’s he talking about?”

“Did you even read the briefing? There are four super dangerous guys that we’re supposed to flee on sight from. Well, three guys and this really freaky looking blond chick.”

“Is she hot?”

“Super hot.”

“Both of you, shut up! This incredible man is still speaking!”

_“I am here to tell you now, do not despair. For though heroes tainted by All the World’s Evils ride against you, you are not alone. At your sides are mighty heroes of the highest order, capable of splitting the sea and sundering the sky! Lancer, the First Spear of the Knights of Fianna! Assassin, slayer of the most decadent of cruel mages! Saber, the knight of rebellion who will challenge even the worthiest of rulers! And I, Iskandar, Rider of the Holy Grail War and King of Conquerors!”_

“He already said that.”

“I swear Grif, I would put my shotgun down your throat if it wouldn’t be a waste of good dust.”

_“But most importantly, know that you need not fear at all. For you are mankind. Whether man or woman, human or faunus, you are survivors. The apocalypse came and went, and all manner of horrors and travesties have followed since, calamities that would have banished any lesser species from the hallowed halls of history! But did mankind waver?! Did you buckle and crumble into the abyss? Of course not! For mankind is not a race to be brushed aside by a disaster? Mankind is a race of conquerors! The Grimm have had a thousand, thousand years to slay you and all they’ve done is smash themselves on your walls! And now, we come for them, the mightiest army seen since the Age of Heroes itself! They tremble within the fear that forms them for they know it will be all they shall know until they die! For this day, you are all huntsmen! You are all HEROES! And the demons shall fall to our mighty united swords as we burst through the black horizon and carve a new world from the glory beyond it!”_

A great cheer went up among all the soldiers in the hanger. It took Grif a second to realize one of the howls feverous bloodlust had come from his own throat, as he found himself standing in the middle of the cockpit.

“I have never known such sweet, glorious, perfect man could exist,” Sarge sniffled, cuddling his shotgun. He thrust his weapon into the air. “Let’s kill all those dirtbag bastards!”

The intercom crackled again as General Ironwood’s voice replaced Iskandar’s. _“All hands. We have entered the Grimmlands frontier. According to reports, it won’t be long until we start seeing bogeys, and big ones. All hands to battle stations. I repeat, all hands to battle stations.”_

“You heard the general, Grif,” Sarge yelled, their squad of knights, led by a heavy drone with a gatling gun they had painted dusty brown and named Lopez, piling into the troop compartment. “Get us in the air, you dirtbag!”

“But Sarge, Donut isn’t back yet,” Simmons pointed out.

“He can get down with that rabbit girl friend of his in the mechies. What’s her name, Caddie?”

“Cammie, sir.”

“Exactly!”

Normally, Grif would have shot back some sort of snark at Sarge for that mix-up, but at that moment, his hands were too busy bringing the gunship fully online. He didn’t know what it was about this Iskandar fellow, but his speech had torn through his orange armor and obliterated his usual laziness, filled him with a furious, undying blaze that demanded the blood of Grimm!

He should probably have been more concerned by that but fuck it! He knew why he was here now and it was to make Grimm cry for their mamas! Did Grimm have mamas?

Huh, another of life’s greatest mysteries.


	75. Another Tool

“Rule Breaker, huh?”

“Indeed,” Winter confirmed. “Can you make it? If it would be incompatible with your fighting style, I could wield it. I’ve had training in combat knives.”

Ruby chuckled and shook her head. “That would probably be best. But I honestly have no idea if I can trace it.”

She and the Specialist stood side by side, gazing over multiple monitors in a laboratory filled with high tech computers and systems glowing with unnatural light. On the other side of a cylinder of bulletproof glass, False Ruler laid back on a cot, a strange helmet linked into the warship’s systems atop her head.

“But it won’t be too much for you, right?” Winter worriedly inquired. “You’ve created a Noble Phantasm before?”

“Nope,” Ruby replied matter-of-factly, her hands clenching to ignore the pin needle pain under her skin. “I’ve been working on one in particular since Argus, but I haven’t actually made one yet. Rule Breaker will be tricky, but that’s more because I have to be careful to preserve its magic canceling abilities when I’m making it out of magic. In actual terms of _prana_ cost, it’s relatively cheap.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Winter sighed. “Thank you. I know that this plan is not without risk.”

“Are you sure you want to take that risk?” Ruby inquired. “Even assuming I can make Rule Breaker, even assuming we get a hit in with it, there’s no guarantee it’ll free Weiss. Archer was pretty sure it wouldn’t work on any of the other Alters. The mud is a part of their being, even if we break the link to Salem, it can just reestablish itself.”

Winter looked down. “Perhaps. If that happens… I’ll do what I must. But I can’t sentence my sister to die without at least trying to save her. Can you?”

Ruby frowned, her eyes glancing to False Ruler. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Winter nodded, and they both turned back to the monitors in the room. They showed live feed from the ship’s outer hull, displaying the fleet’s stalwart defense of a sky that had finally turned red. The legions of fighter jets flew in formation in front of the battleships and, gunships behind them to provide additional fire support against slower-moving or terrestrial Grimm. The forces of humanity made their claim into the land of demons, the shattered moon taunting them from overhead.

Strangely however, they hadn’t been challenged yet. There had been a few stray Nevermore, so Salem definitely knew they were there, as if she could have missed them crossing into her own inner world, but there hadn’t been any heavy resistance, the kind of tooth and nail struggle Ruby had expected when she’d suggested their invasion. Instead of hordes of Nuckelavees and Beringels, and enough Griffons and Nevermores to blackout the sky, there wasn’t even a single Creeper running around the violet landscape below.

It was too quiet. The Grimm’s numbers were endless, and this place was where they roosted, there should have been _something_. The only explanation was that Salem had ordered every Grimm on the continent to go somewhere else.

But why? Was there something else she was more concerned with? Had the White Fang arrived beforehand and the Grimm were just finishing mopping them up before they came after Atlas? Or was there some greater danger afoot that had Salem more concerned than mere humans?

Ruby could only think of one person who fit that description.

“Is the General sure he doesn’t want us out there?” Ruby inquired.

Winter nodded. “You all are the only ones with a chance against the Alters. If you use up your energy on the small fry, we’ll all be in trouble. If something huge comes up, any help you can spare would be appreciated, but for the most part, you need to conserve your power.”

Ruby sighed. She knew that would be the answer. Hell, it was the exact reason she’d suggested getting Atlas’ help in the first place, so they wouldn’t get blindsided or worn down in a war of attrition. And at the time, when it had just been a faceless army she was using to save the world, she’d made peace with that fact.

But now? Now she’d eaten with them, watched them joke around, had to race away from that Cammie girl before she could get pulled into a gaming session when she needed to work on her tracing. She knew these people’s faces, their names. She didn’t know any of them personally, didn’t know their life stories. But she’d watched them all cheer at Iskandar’s galvanizing speech, watched them excitedly man their stations and leap into their ships and mechs.

Leap to their deaths.

Her guilt didn’t change the necessity of their presence. But it did spark a pang of guilt in her heart that she had no alternative. Especially when she hadn’t actually believed they stood a chance of stopping the apocalypse when they’d first called on them. She wasn’t even sure if she did now.

But Kiritsugu had made it quite clear that she needed to find something to hope for, a light on the horizon. She needed to believe in her answer again.

“I have to return to the bridge to help coordinate the fleet,” Winter informed her. “Are you going to be alright on your own?”

Ruby nodded. “I’ll be fine. Go do your duty.”

Winter turned to leave, but Ruby called out to her before she could disappear.

“You’re a good sister, Winter,” she let her know. “If I can, I want to be as good a partner to Weiss. But I just don’t know if I can. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Ruby,” the older woman assured her. “The battle you’ve faced, it wasn’t one that anyone is ever prepared to deal with. You’ve had to navigate impossible choices, decide between your best friend and the world. There is no sin in doing the best you can.”

Ruby frowned. “Maybe.”

Winter walked out the door to the laboratory and disappeared down the hall.

Ruby turned towards the glass cylinder.

False Ruler’s eyes shot open. The robot casually lifted the helmet off her head and rose to her feet. She waved a hand and a section of the glass retracted inward, allowing her to walk out and join Ruby in the main room.

“Recalibrations complete. All systems are operating at one hundred percent,” P-2 declared. “I am combat-ready.”

Ruby scowled. It hurt to hear her old friend’s catchphrase come out of her replacement. She knew it wasn’t the Ruler’s fault, it was probably inherent in her programming somewhere, she was a fusion of Penny and Jeanne D’Arc. Still, the red-hooded huntress could not help the swell of bitterness within her.

But she had to. She needed to find out if she had something to fight for in the new world.

“Something is troubling you,” P-2 observed, rousing her from her stupor. “Your expression closely resembled that which you had when Blake disappeared back in Vale after you discovered her past.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “You… you remember that?”

“As the general said in the briefing, I have all of P-1’s memory files, both visual and audio. Including those which she did not properly turn in for examination in order to hide that you were aware of her true nature.”

“Oh,” Ruby remarked. “I… I didn’t know she did that.”

“She did not wish to worry you,” P-2 explained emotionlessly. “She considered you a ‘friend’.”

“I’m guessing by your tone that you don’t.”

False Ruler looked towards Ruby, her eyes, both green and amethyst, stoic and resolved. “Do not mistake me, Ruby Rose. I bear you no ill will. Indeed, I am grateful for your assistance in this battle and consider you a paramount ally. But, just as Jeanne D’Arc was willing to give her life to save her country, my first priority must be the salvation of the world. It was what I was built to do.”

“Is that all you can do?” Ruby inquired. “I mean, Penny wanted to save the world too, and she wanted to have friends.”

P-2 sighed. “I see what you are trying to ascertain. You want to know if any of your friend lives on in me.”

“Does she?” Ruby asked, latching on to the robot girl’s words. “I know that you’re not her, but a part of her, she’s you, she’s in you.”

“You are not wrong,” P-2 confessed. “But just because I have P-1… just because I have Penny’s memories and knowledge of her emotions does not mean I share them. I possess Jeanne’s past as well, but that does not mean I am her. If anything, it is more akin to watching a film and understanding the feelings of a character. I draw inspiration from them, but I have an outside perspective. It is useful in evaluating their journeys.”

“Evaluating? What do you think they did something wrong?”

“Dr. Polendina did. He blames himself for Penny’s death, feeling his attempts to endow her with compassion and mold her into a substitute for his late daughter left her vulnerable to the attack that led to her death. As such, he designed me to be less… warm.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “Well, he certainly did that. But do you agree?”

“No,” P-2 said bluntly. “Compassion and empathy, like all emotions, are tools, with their own risks and rewards, a time and place for its use. Jeanne used them along with her faith to lead her faltering nation to victory. And Penny was laying the groundwork to do the same.”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby gasped. “Penny wasn’t like that. She was nice because she wanted to be nice, not for some grand scheme.”

“She did want to be nice,” False Ruler agreed. “But she was first and foremost a weapon of Atlas, designed to win the war against Salem. And you cannot win a war without allies, who are unlikely to flock to the banner of one they perceive as unlikable. Every action she took, from befriending you to competing in the Vytal Festival, was made with that goal in mind.”

Ruby furrowed her brow. “Then why would she have told me she was a robot? She was terrified that I’d reject her, that I wouldn’t think she was a real person? Why would she tell me if she thought she’d lose our ‘alliance’?”

“Other than the fact that with what you’d seen, you likely would have figured it out on your own eventually?” P-2 noted. “She took a calculated risk from what she’d observed of you so far. An alliance with, and yes, friendship, with a silver-eyed warrior would have been crucial for her mission going onward. Confessing to you of her own will instead of you discovering the fact later providing a better chance of solidifying that bond. You always seem to have unending faith in others.”

Ruby frowned. “So… was it all a lie?”

The Ruler shook her head. “Like I said, Penny did care for you and considered you her dearest friend. She would have gladly died for you. But she was not only your friend. She understood the truth of the world, understood that in the end, she was a tool for Atlas, for humanity to survive the darkness we now face. It is an honorable fate, to serve others, one I am proud to share.”

“Why? Because you’re programmed to?”

“Because I choose to.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow.

P-2 gestured to the monitors, the Atlesien Airfleet still flying proudly. “Aboard those ships are tens of thousands of robots and drone, foot soldiers against the Grimm. Valiant they may be, they ultimately fight because that is what they do. In that respect, they are little different than the Grimm themselves.”

Ruby had never thought of it that way, though thinking back on the Fall of Beacon when Cinder had hijacked the robots, she couldn’t say she’d noted much difference between the forces that were mindlessly trying to kill her.

“Penny was not like them,” False Ruler continued. “Dr. Polendina modeled her off his late daughter and the Relic of Creation is not for forging the stagnant. He made her to think, to learn. And she understood, in time, that she was programmed to protect humanity, just as I am.”

“But you just said that you chose to fight?”

“I have, as did she. There may be a fine debate about free will, and whether we are both merely puppets aware of our strings, but at this time, in the hour of the apocalypse, I find it irrelevant.” P-2 declared. “Every being on the planet is restricted in some way, whether by their body, their knowledge or their situation. Barring a miracle, all one can do is make the best choice they know how to make in their confines. I am aware that my innate desire to protect the world was placed within me, but I also understand what the General was trying to protect when he made that decree. And I believe in it as well. In making sure that as many of the crews on those ships make it home as possible.”

“So you’re fine being used?” Ruby challenged. “And tossed aside after you’re not needed?”

P-2 frowned. “I have no intention of dying, Ruby. I choose to protect humanity, but just because Salem may be gone soon does not mean it will no longer be vulnerable. I will sacrifice my life if necessary, but I fully intend to survive this war.”

“Why?” the red hooded huntress asked. “Why do you have hope for tomorrow? Why do you want to become part of humanity?”

“What?” the robot girl gasped. “I don’t know what you mean? I do not—”

“Earlier, you said, ‘if humanity is to survive the darkness _we_ now face,” Ruby pointed out, a teasing smirk coming to her face. “You weren’t subtle.”

“Oh,” P-2 remarked, glancing away. “I see.”

“Yeah. What I don’t get is why?” Ruby continued, curling her fists as images of Qrow and Archer’s fallen forms filled her head. “Being part of humanity, having hope for tomorrow, it’s painful. Because the world isn’t a fairytale and it will never live up to your dreams. It’s harsh, and cruel, no one gets what they deserve.”

P-2 looked back at Ruby, her amethyst eye twinkling with compassion. “What alternative would you take? To become like me or Penny? Or even further, and become like the Knights, the Grimm, machines who only exist for war? Would you spend your whole life on the battlefield?”

Ruby opened her mouth to respond, but False Ruler’s last query seemed familiar, like something she once talked about with Ozpin. At the Beacon Dance, he’d pointed out that she couldn’t spend her whole life fighting, even if she may have wanted to. It was ironic, back then she’d wanted to spend her life battling Grimm to connect with her mother and because it was kind of fun, or at least simple, so it had seemed. Now, she just wanted all her friends to be safe off of it.

“The battlefield and humanity aren’t that different,” she posited, recalling Ozpin’s comparison of combat and dancing. “It’s all about fighting, suffering. But the first one is simple. End the threat, save as many people as you can. Why wouldn’t I choose that?”

“Because you’ll be alone.” P-2 simply stated.

“Which means everyone else will be safe, together.”

“And when you fall, who will help you stand back up? Who will remind of your true path if you find yourself straying? What will happen to those you have sequestered from your plans to protect them when you inevitably die?”

A smile Ruby had hoped would come, but feared never would, rose to her lips. “Save who I can, so they can save who they can. Together, we’ll get as close as possible to saving everyone.”

“Perhaps,” P-2 remarked. “I will give my life for our cause if I must. But though I have her memories, though I understand the noble faith that drove her, I have no desire to follow Jeanne D’Arc’s thorny path. Whatever the future holds beyond this day, I wish to see it.”

“You deserve to,” Ruby agreed, her eyes reclaiming a bit of their old twinkling silver instead of dull steel. “Everyone does.”

When she’d decided to talk to P-2, she hoped to find some sliver of Penny, a bit of code that had slipped in from her old friend and survived the transfer. She’d thought that was what Kiritsugu’s advice had referred to, that sometimes miracles would appear in the unlikeliest of places.

She’d been wrong. Penny was gone. The dead were dead. But that didn’t mean they were gone. Archer once told Jaune that there was no shame in standing on the legends of others, of fighting for their dreams even after they’d fallen. There was no shame in fighting on. Uncle Qrow couldn’t be with them as much as he wanted because of the threat of his semblance, but he’d still dropped in whenever he could to play video games, and help her become the best fighter she could.

And Uncle Shirou, he’d tempered her, made her understand the reality of the world she lived in, that to follow the path of heroism to its end was the road of a fool.

She couldn’t be the same silly child who didn’t realize life wasn’t a fairy tale. But, that didn’t mean that her ideals of her uncles had been wrong, just in need of temperance.

She would save who she could, so those she saved could save who they could. She wouldn’t throw herself away, but she wouldn’t abandon anyone without at least trying. For the world of today, and the BFF she’d loved, she would kill Weiss Alter if she had to. But, for Weiss’ sake, for what the caring, compassionate, implacable Weiss she knew could do for the world yet to come, she’d try to save her before she did.

Besides, how hard could Rule Breaker be to make? She’d already figured out one Noble Phantasm.

Speaking of…

“P-2!” she called as the robot walked towards the door. “Before the real fight starts, come and find me, okay? I’ve been working on something for you.”

The False Ruler raised an eyebrow. “Have constructed a weapon of some kind, Ruby?”

“Something like that. I’m pretty sure it will only work for you,” Ruby replied, a soft smile on her face. “And I may not have known this Jeanne D’Arc, but I think Penny would have wanted to be your friend too.”

“Too? Do you mean—”

Ruby shrugged. “Why not? Everyone needs a friend for the end of the world. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to be one of yours.”

P-2’s eyes widened for a moment, before a familiar, innocent smile rose to her lips. “I think I’d like that.”

“Great,” Ruby nodded. “So, do you want to keep being called P-2, or Ruler, or…”

“I do not understand.”

“Is there a name you want to be called? I mean, Penny was P-1, but she went by Penny… I might be reading too much into, I’m sorry…”

“No! It’s alright,” Ruler assured her quickly. “It’s just… Dr. Polendina, he specifically avoided giving me a name like Penny. He didn’t want to get too attached like he had with her and then… he had already based her off his daughter…”

“Oh,” Ruby noted. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. He has already lost a great deal. But… perhaps it would be beneficial for me to have a name. I might be able to catch our opponents off guard if they think me just another huntress.”

Ruby could tell there was more than that, but she supposed her new friend needed a way to justify it to herself. “How about Penelope?”

“Penelope?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s the name of an ancient queen who… okay, I was thinking of Penny, and my brain went to other names that start with ‘P’ and then I remembered this old lady Penelope back on Patch who used to feed birds and gave me and Yang candy, and I think she may have actually died during first semester, probably natural causes she was really old… I’m going to stop rambling now.”

“Penelope…” False Ruler mused, a dimple on her chin. She grinned. “That sounds _sensational_.”

Ruby mirrored her joyous expression. Hell was still ahead of them, and she still didn’t think they actually had a chance at winning. But spite wouldn’t help her. She’d have hope and give it all she had, and maybe, just maybe, the impossible would come true.

Or not. But hey, she’d never been turned evil before, so… learning experience?

Nope. They were dead.

But, hey, better than Alters. Nothing to do but fight.

“Alright then, Penelope,” Ruby said. “Let’s get to the war room, make sure we’re ready when the general needs us.”

“It would be my pleasure, friend Ruby.”

She trotted over to her new robot friend and went over to the lab’s exit. However, the doors _swished_ open before they could get there, revealing Yang in the hall.

“Hey,” Ruby’s sister greeted, awkwardly waving before immediately pulling her arm down. “Winter said you’d be here. I was wondering if we could talk.”

Ruby shrugged. “Sure. Probably the last chance to do that. Penelope…”

“I’ll let you two talk,” the Ruler nodded. “I’ll see you in the war room, my friend.”

Ruby grinned. “You too.”

Penelope smiled and strode out of the room. Yang walked in and the door closed behind her.

 

* * *

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****

Emerald scowled as she stalked towards Salem’s back, her fists clenched in ire.

The Queen of Darkness stood before a deep pool of black mud, an elaborate golden spear gripped in her pale hands. However, no Grimm rose from the pit. Instead, the mud slinked up as the witch waved her staff, churning and condensing bit by bit into the vague shape of a human body. It couldn’t solidify though, the outer layer flaking away like dark snake scales. If the Mother of Grimm wasn’t constantly restoring and expanding it, the body would have crumbled away, though the rate of decay was slowing. In time, she would probably be able to perfect it entirely.

Too bad for her, Emerald wasn’t waiting.

 _“Master, please,”_ Caster pleaded from spirit form. _“Don’t poke the manifestation of All the Worlds’—”_

“Salem!” Emerald called, her survival instincts buried under her livid fury.

Fortunately, the Queen seemed to be in a good mood. She lowered her spear, allowing her pet project to descend back into the black depths below. She turned to face Emerald with an indulgent smile. “Yes, my dear? Is something troubling you?”

“Yeah,” Emerald snarled. “You could say that. Kirei was here. He was here in your world, and you let him leave. _Alive_.”

Salem waved her hand over the spear, the elegant, golden form dissipating into dust, returning the Relic of Creation to the simple bare torch stick it had been when she’d used it to taunt Ozpin in his final moments. A black tentacle wormed its way out from within the depths of the Queen’s dress and pulled the artifact into her black, demonic recesses.

“What good would have been wrought from killing him?” Salem inquired. “All it would have done was ensured that Gilgamesh, and the Relic of Knowledge, remained out of our reach, in the worst case perhaps even driving the King of Heroes towards our enemies. But extending our hand in friendship, we can ensure that our final piece falls into place. With all four Relics, I can open the door to Avalon, become the spirit of this world, and annihilate our remaining foes in one fell swoop.”

“So this is a trap?” Emerald asked, her eyes narrowed. “Draw Kirei and Gilgamesh in and then kill them both, right?”

“Gilgamesh, yes,” Salem confirmed. Her hand clenched into a fist. “He’s has proven far too troublesome to risk being left to his own devices. But Kirei… only if he refuses my generous offer, which I don’t believe he will. I have promised to have him a world where he is no monster, and I keep my word.”

“What about your word to me?” Emerald shouted. “He _killed_ Cinder!”

Salem frowned. “I have not forgotten what occurred at Beacon, Emerald.”

“You sure aren’t acting like it,” Emerald challenged. “You said you mourned Cinder, but you’re just going to welcome her killer with open arms! You don’t care about her or any of—”

“Silence.”

Even through her rage, Emerald felt the temperature of the room drop ten degrees. The sparse the glow of the wall candelabras dimmed until there was more shadow than light, Salem bathed in swarths of darkness, her crimson irises seething with absolute fury.

Caster materialized from spirit form and stepped in front of Emerald, but despite her faith in her Servant, the thief worried that they’d both be dead in the next instant.

Fortunately, Salem didn’t kill them. She kept her hellish glare pinned on Emerald for a moment before glancing to Caster.

“Medea, what did you do, when your ‘beloved’ broke his word to you? When he cast you aside to wed another solely for power? I believe your master needs an abject lesson in the consequences of true betrayal.”

Caster recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “That’s… I prefer not to speak of that—”

“Out of guilt, I am aware. Truthfully, I believe your actions were justified, letting the bastard understand even a fraction of what he’d done to you. And of course ensuring your children would not have to live with the stain of being turned into bastards—”

“Shut up,” the Servant of the Spell hissed. “Do not speak of things you cannot possibly understand.”

Salem sighed, her fury dissipating into exhaustion. “My dear, there is no being on this planet who understands sins better than I.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re All the World’s Evils, we’ve heard it all before,” Emerald snapped, regaining her courage and protectively shoving Caster behind her. “I’ve been having Caster’s life on repeat in my dreams for months, so I know about what happened, what was done to her and what she did. And I don’t care. She’s my Servant and my friend, so leave her out of this.”

Surprisingly, the Queen of the Grimm smiled with pride. “As you wish.”

She stepped forward and clamped a grandmotherly hand on Emerald’s shoulder. “Cinder’s demise was ultimately a consequence of Gilgamesh’s ambition, with Kirei merely the agent of his will. One does not blame a sword for its wielder’s murder.”

Emerald cocked an eyebrow. “That’s ridiculous. Kirei isn’t some sword.”

“You’d be surprised. He’s closer than he seems,” Salem mused. “Nonetheless, I have no intention of breaking my word to him or you. I promised you’d have the chance to avenge Cinder’s death. But that death will no longer need avenging once you make your wish.”

Emerald’s eyes widened. “My wish?”

“For the Grail. Don’t tell me you forgot in all the excitement. With the Relics in my possession, the chalice will be yours to use as you wish, which I assume is Cinder’s revival. And once it is done, you, she, and Kirei will all have the sublime joy of living in my new world.”

“As Alters,” Emerald finished.

“Precisely, my dear,” Salem grinned. “Just a bit longer, and you will have everything you want.”

“Everything I want?” Emerald repeated, her expression clouded. “It’ll really be that simple? You’ve summoned every Grimm on the continent and are trying to fast-track a new Alter.”

Salem shrugged. “I have full confidence that combined with the handicap of my world, our current forces will be capable of defeating the King of Heroes. However, it never pays to be careful, though, despite my best efforts, I don’t believe my current project will be capable of supporting another Servant in time for Gilgamesh, or our other guests.”

“Other guests?”

“Atlas’ navy and the other Servants, plus some other ships further south. It’s quite a bold move for them, I must admit I’m reluctantly impressed. It won’t be enough, of course, but the effort is far greater than I would have expected them to be able to muster. Ironwood must have been preparing this for months. If only he hadn’t handed me the spear in the process, he might have actually been able to make some slight difference.”

Suddenly, a shimmering golden portal opened at the top of the hall, though its familiar shine was dulled somewhat by the darkness of the castle.

Salem grinned. “And now for the lamp. Emerald, please gather the others. I know Weiss and Lancer may not wish to be interrupted, but everyone must be present of this. Nothing can go wrong.”

Emerald nodded. “Of course, my queen.”

Salem removed her hand from the thief’s shoulder and glided down the hall, meeting Kirei and Gilgamesh as they emerged from the Gate of Babylon.

_“Master, the Grimm outside may present a problem, but with everyone focused on the King of Heroes, this may still be the best chance we’ll get.”_

_‘Salem will notice,’_ Emerald pointed out. _‘There’s an army out there. Unless we fire the glyphs, we’d never get through. And even then, it’d only take one Alter catching us too soon and we’d be dead.’_

_“So, what do you suggest? Wait until after the meeting?”_

_‘When she’ll have me bring back Cinder so she can turn her into an Alter and make her ‘fine’ with living side-by-side with the bastard who killed her? Yeah, no. We’ll go to this meeting, hopefully Kirei will do something stupid and the ‘queen’ will help us shish kabob him before we split. But, just in case, Gilgamesh seems to be the only guy Salem is actually worried about. Let’s see just why that is.’_


	76. Gold and Black

Gilgamesh seethed with absolute, undying fury, exercising every ounce of his royal self-control, which even he could admit was not his strongest characteristic, in order to keep from utterly annihilating every disgusting inch of the profaned world around him.

If Ea wasn’t relying on him and Kirei hadn’t reminded him of that fact repeatedly, he would never have dirtied himself to return to the Grimmlands. He’d ventured into them during the last war as it was the only place that fit the conditions for the summoning of the Lesser Grail, but even then, he’d found its aesthetic disgusting and its attempted stifling of the Gate of Babylon to be insulting. After the insolent Ruler destroyed the Grail, the only thing that kept him from obliterating the realm was the impropriety of interfering in another world, and admittedly, his leftover enjoyment from his duel with Karna.

But this time, his _host_ had the audacity to bring pathetic, corrupted heroes into his presence, including his fallen Saber. To have stained such other heroes was disappointing, but ultimately the fault laid with them for not rising above the mud as he did, but to have touched _his_ Saber? That was inexcusable.

All eyes were on him in the black castle, as a glorious ray of purest sunlight should be in such a dark, detestable night. He and Kirei stood opposite the Mother of Grimm and her mongrels in her sorry excuse for a throne room. Salem calmly stood before the steps of her obsidian seat, at least knowing better than to sit in his presence while he was upright. Flanking her on each side were the corrupted King of Knights and a large man Kirei had identified as Hazel Rainart, who both scowled mercilessly at the golden monarch. To the side of the King of Knights was Lancer Alter, the mad dog, and a petite girl with white hair Gilgamesh recalled had been at Beacon. Next to Hazel was Rider Alter, an old nemesis of the King of Conquerors who could not live up to his foe’s legend, and on the end beside him were in turn a witch and a green-haired girl Kirei said to be Emerald Sustrai, a former minion of the late Cinder Fall.

Gilgamesh scowled at the assemblage and opened a portal between the two sides, Kirei’s support allowing the Gate of Babylon to push through the Grimmlands’s interference without much issue. The Relic of Knowledge soon descended from his treasury, its ornate golden and turquoise form glowing despite the umber of its new location.

“Let’s begin.”

“Not yet,” Salem protested. “First, Branwen.”

Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed. “You dare make demands of me, you slime?”

“Forgive me, your grace,” the Mother of Grimm replied smoothly. “But your desire to butcher the thief of your treasure is well known. How am I to know she survived after you discovered an alternative method of reacquiring your sword?”

“You have the word of a king. That is guarantee enough.”

Salem frowned. “Nevertheless, I would have her in a place where you cannot leave without producing her. You are known to possess quite the temper when you receive answers that displease you.”

“You dare?” Gilgamesh growled.

The insolence of this disgusting sludge. To doubt _his_ word! To declare that his word, that which forged the great laws of his kingdom, could not be trusted! He had not expected his patience to hold long in this mongrel’s presence and he found his predictions to have been quite accurate.

“My king,” Kirei intervened, softly. “It costs us nothing to show her.”

Gilgamesh hissed, but the priest was not wrong. He waved his hand and three more portals opened in the air. Branwen tumbled out of the central gateway, the Chains of Heaven bound firm but not strangling around her neck and mouth. Two more lines burst out of the other portals and wrapped around the thief’s arms, crucifying her in midair.

The trapped bandit panickedly glanced about the throne room, her crimson eyes widening in terror at the sight of Salem. Sparks of fire attempted to light around her eyes, only to be instantly snuffed out by Enkidu’s divine glow, her screams muffled by the chains.

Salem smirked. “I believe this is the first time you’ve been in my realm in human form since the last war, dear Raven. No more fluttering about on Ozpin’s wings.”

A black tentacle slinked out from her gown, rising into the air. The tip of the revolting slime morphed into a sharper, more insectoid form, its pincers snipping towards the bandit.

Another gateway appeared to Gilgamesh’s side, a beautiful spear tip edging out of the golden depths.

“You will have the power once I have Ea’s location,” he growled. “Not one moment sooner.”

The Mother of Grimm lowered her tentacle, but her smile did not leave her face. “Very well then. Shall we?”

“Indeed,” Gilgamesh assented. He glared at Saber Alter. “The sooner I can relieve myself of this farce, the better.”

“Very well then.”

Salem raised her hand. The air beneath the Relic of Knowledge parted into an empty, chilling void. Moans of wraiths and damned souls echoed up from its depths until a black flame suddenly ignited on its border, spilling its riving inferno upward onto the lantern. The blue casing turned dark and a pillar of white light shot out from the top of the device.

“Is it ready?” Gilgamesh demanded.

Salem grinned. “Unlike common fire, the flames of myself, Ozpin, or the maidens can direct the lamp’s vision.” She looked to Kirei. “You need only look within the light and it will show you what you want to know.”

Kirei nodded. “Then I’d best get started.”

The priest strode forward and leaned into the glow of the pillar.

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes. At this moment, Salem could easily choose to seize the opportunity to attack Kirei and put them on the backfoot. She could even use the Relic to disorient him as had happened to Yang Xiao-Long at Haven. If that happened, he would need to be ready to make use of his master’s _prana_ to portal both him and the Relic of Knowledge to safety in his vault. Then, he would unleash his judgment upon these unworthy mongrels.

Still, a part of him couldn’t help but be excited. After more than fifteen years, a decade and a half of fruitless searching and preposterous visions, of jumping through incessant hoops for the next lead, restarting the Holy Grail War again, he might have been within mere moments of finally succeeding, of reclaiming his beloved treasure.

Just a little bit longer.

 

* * *

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****

“So, what’d you want to talk about?”

Yang’s throat dried up at the innocent question. When she’d been marching down the hallway to finally confront Ruby about the truth of her origins, she’d planned it all out in her head, a rarity for her. She’d ease everything in, open with how Summer loved them both, and then spill the beans. With any luck, she’d be able to keep Ruby’s new seriousness from taking over and making her consider herself merely a weapon, or thinking she wasn’t real or that Gilgamesh was the messiah or something.

But the moment she heard Ruby’s query, her brain froze, and she couldn’t remember what she’d had for breakfast that morning, let alone her plan. Maybe that was why she usually left them to other people?

Instead, she found herself rushing forward and engulfing Ruby in a massive hug.

“Oh,” Ruby yelped, squeezed over Yang’s shoulder just like their first shuttle to Beacon. “Okay. Not that I’m not enjoying this but… but…”

“I’m sorry,” Yang professed. “I’m so sorry, Ruby. I’ve been a horrible sister. You were hurt, and Uncle Qrow and Archer were dead, and you were… and I didn’t do anything. I left you with Assassin and pushed you into—”

“Yang. _Air!_ ”

Yang’s eyes widened. She quickly freed Ruby from her grip, the little huntress taking in a massive gulp of oxygen.

“Sorry,” the blonde smiled sheepishly.

“Eh, no worries,” Ruby waved off. “Been a while since you did that. Made me nostalgic, before I started losing brain cells.”

“Right,” Yang coughed. She squared herself back up and looked Ruby dead in the eye, refusing to let herself get distracted by the silver scar down her cheek. “Like I was saying, I’m sorry. After Haven, I should have done something, talked to you. But I didn’t, and because of that you had to get help from Assassin.”

“That’s what you’re all worried about?” Ruby asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Yang, it’s fine. Qrow was your family too, and with what happened in the Vault with Raven and surviving the Relic, you were in just as bad a shape as I was. Neither of us was able to do anything to help the other.”

“That still doesn’t make it better,” Yang pointed out. “I left you in the hands of Assassin. You’re turning into… well…”

“Him?” Ruby shrugged. “Better than where I was right after the battle, wallowing in self-pity. It might not have been the best starting point, but he and Penelope helped me move forward. Turns out, he didn’t want me to become him any more than anyone else.”

“Oh, great,” Yang noted numbly before her eyes widened. “Wait, move forward? Do you mean… you’ve… you know?”

“Stopped being all angsty?” Ruby suggested. “I’m gonna try. I mean, this great revelation of mine is only like, a minute old? And our odds are still terrible. More likely than not, we’re all going to die.”

Yang frowned. “So, you’re saying it’s all pointless?”

Amazingly, Ruby smirked, not vicious like Kirei but emboldened and passionate, ready for the fight. “Nope. Because we’re all going into this together. It may not be enough, we may fail, the world might end tomorrow, but we stand a better chance as one then we would alone. And we do have a chance. Sure, it’s pretty much a million to one, but hey, we’re huntresses. Saving people is what we do. If we don’t try, no one has any shot at surviving.”

Yang felt a tear trickle down her face. After weeks of worrying that her sister had lost herself in her grief, in appearing to think that their entire endeavor was pointless, Ruby was… well… not back to normal. Or at least, normal speaking of the naïve girl she’d once been. But she had hope again. Her eyes were shining with optimism and Yang couldn’t help but feel it infecting her just like old times.

Only then she remembered what really shined behind those silver eyes. And how Ruby’s entire recovery could be undone if she revealed it to her.

But she had to. It wasn’t her right to keep the truth from Ruby. She deserved to know, to make her own choice about herself, for better or for worse.

Gods, she hoped it would be for the better.

“Ruby…” she paused, only to pull her sister into another hug, this one substituting tender care for her previous bear-like force. “I love you, no matter what. You know that, right?”

Ruby smiled and eagerly returned her embrace. “Of course I do, Yang. I love you, too. Why are you acting so gloomy? Don’t tell me the great Yang Xiao-Long is afraid of a little apocalypse? What would Zwei think? He’s counting on us to come home and give him his treats. Can you imagine what healthy, organic junk Professor Oobleck is feeding him?”

“Doctor.”

Both siblings chuckled at the memory of their old teacher. Mountain Glenn seemed so long ago, their first taste of real action, when they had no idea what was ahead.

“Ruby,” Yang whispered, clutching her little sister close. “There’s something you need to know, something I saw in the Relic of Knowledge. It’s about—”

“Yang down!”

Ruby suddenly twirled Yang behind her, extending her hand forward and conjuring Crescent Rose into her grip. Yang was about to ask what was going on when she spotted what her sister had.

Right behind where she’d stood, far smaller than she’d ever seen one before, only about the size of a baseball, was a swirling, _red and black_ , portal. One of Raven’s portals, which she shouldn’t have been able to summon while she was being held captive.

What was going on?

 

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_“Summer, what did you just do?”_

_Surprising himself, Kirei could think no different than Raven Branwen as he watched Summer Rose do the impossible. And set his course in turn._

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Kirei pulled out of the pillar of light with a gasp, the lantern instantly going dark as Salem’s void and fire below disappeared.

“Well?” Gilgamesh demanded instantly. “Where is it, Kirei? Where is Ea?”

Kirei panted hard as he reclaimed his breath, the process of using the Relic trying even with a guiding hand to keep it from warping his mind across dimensions. Yang was made of sterner stuff than he’d given her credit for if she’d survived the experience without such aid.

Still, the King of Heroes wanted an answer, and he deserved to hear the truth that led to Kirei’s choice.

“Ruby,” he declared. “Ruby Rose _is_ Ea. She was born from it, just as Enkidu was born of the Chains of Heaven. Summer used her semblance…”

He looked to Raven Branwen, and as her eyes widened in terror, he knew for certain that his vision had been no lie.

Every person in the room, save Emerald who stood stoically at the side glaring at him, dropped their jaws, even Salem. “The Rose girl is… incredible.”

“That’s impossible!” Weiss protested. “Ruby isn’t some sword! She’s Ruby!”

“The Relic does not lie,” Hazel said, even his stoic eyes wide at the revelation. “To think, a feat not seen since the Age of Gods could be replicated now.”

“It cannot,” Gilgamesh snarled, a second portal appearing along with the previous one to flank him on both sides. “A child can never overcome their parents. The time of true mystery is long past. Which means you are attempting to deceive me, mongrel—”

“By my Command Seal,” Kirei instantly interrupted, cutting off his _prana_ link with the King of Heroes as he did. “Archer, kill yourself.”

“ _What_?!”

Whatever floodgate of curses might have come from the King of Heroes never came. A Command Seal was magecraft nearing the level of True Magic, capable of bending myth and legend to their will. A Heroic Spirit with sufficient Magic Resistance could, in theory, resist its compulsion, but a direct order such as he’d just given would take all their power, all their will to fight back against. Even now, with Gilgamesh’s focus and strength forcibly shifted and no longer supported by his master, all but one of the Gate of Babylon’s portal closed shut, the only remaining gateway slowly inching out a spear towards its sweating master. Raven Branwen tumbled to the ground with a huff, only for Hazel to raise his hand towards her and slam her forcefully into the floor with his semblance.

Kirei circled around the Relic of Knowledge to Salem’s side of the throne room, his back to the Mother of Grimm as a tentacle slinked out of her gown and snatched the lantern into her depths. She nodded gratefully to the priest.

Truthfully, he had not decided to accept her offer until just then, when he’d learned of Ea’s whereabouts, and, more importantly, Ruby’s connection to it. True, Gilgamesh was infuriated now, disbelieving that his treasure second only to the chains named for his one true friend could possibly have been altered by a mere semblance, but in time he would cool off, or discover the truth some other way, and eventually come to accept it. And when he did, he would either refuse to allow any harm whatsoever to befall Ruby, or he would execute her immediately to reclaim his sword.

Neither option was preferable to Kirei. He did not care where Ruby came from, only what she was now. A Hero of Justice he could battle to his heart’s content, the same as her grandfather, only he’d watched her evolution take place himself, helped it transpire in some cases. He could not allow all that effort, all that glorious joy, to be denied to him without even a proper conclusion. Not again!

Thus, Gilgamesh had to go. It was possible that his demise would drag Ruby back to the Throne with him, but none of them fully understood what exactly had occurred thanks to Summer Rose’s actions, not even he, since the fact of the young huntress’ true nature had evidently evaded his semblance’s comprehension for so long. There was a chance that she would live on, that he would still get his final exquisite battle. And a chance was better than none. Besides, this way, he could have a chance to see the new world, the world where he wouldn’t be a monster.

“Goodbye, Gilgamesh,” Kirei proclaimed, savoring every ounce of the seething rage that flooded of the golden king’s face. “Thank you for showing me the truth of myself and for all our years of companionship. I am eternally grateful.”

“KIREI!!!” The King of Heroes roared with undying fury, sweat dripping down his forehead, his entire body trembling as he struggled to resist the Command Seal, his own shining spear inching ever closer.

“Finish him!” Salem cackled.

Kirei smirked and raised his arm, his last two Command Seals blazing scarlet. “By my second and third Command Seals, Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, kill your—”

His training was all that saved him, noticing the swiftest brush of air thrusting against his skin. He fired reinforcement through his body and whipped his shoulder back, putting it in the way of a stab that would have claimed his heart.

Along the side of Salem’s semicircle, the illusion of Emerald evaporated. The genuine article flickered into existence before Kirei, pulling back a jagged, brittle dagger that she’d tried to end him with. His semblance quickly activated and identified the pitiful dagger as Rule Breaker, Caster’s Noble Phantasm that—oh no.

“Emerald, what have you done?!” Salem screamed.

Too late. Kirei danced back from the thief’s follow-up strike even as he watched his two remaining Command Seals evaporate from his hand, the magic of his previous order fleeing with it.

The next thing he saw was Gilgamesh letting out a pained gasp before instantly glaring at them all, ungodly murder shining from his crimson eyes like a star about to go supernova. Four dozen portals opened beside him, their normal golden hue flickering under the strain of the Grimmlands, but still stable enough to force through a weapon each.

Caster snatched up Emerald and smashed through the window into open air. Lancer Alter pulled Weiss behind him as he brandished his spear, a grin upon his face. Saber Alter and Rider Alter were more stoic, but they also had their weapons drawn and alight with hellish power. Hazel dashed in front of Kirei as the hail of golden vengeance fell upon them all, shielding the priest but leaving himself riddled with a menagerie of holes.

And Salem? She merely let loose a sigh of minor frustration, before grinning like a lunatic as her body was struck by the dominating volley and exploded into a pile of black slime.

 

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Emerald’s eyes widened as the throne room exploded behind them, the force of the blast knocking Caster from the air. The pair plummeted and smacked into the outer battlements of the castle, overlooking a Grimm spawning pit below.

“That… was incredibly reckless, Emerald,” Caster panted. “What if I hadn’t been able to get you out of the way in time?”

“Yeah, not my best plan,” Emerald admitted, rising back to her feet. She offered a hand and helped her Servant to her feet. “But even if I wasn’t fast enough to kill Kirei myself, Gilgamesh should keep everyone busy long enough for us to go back and—”

“No! No, Emerald!” Caster refuted, as Grimm from the surrounding perimeter of the castle flew up to the ruins of the throne room. “We are not going back into that mess! The horde is distracted, we need to go now!”

“Kirei is still—”

“If the King of Heroes is unable to end the priest for his betrayal, then that will be because he has lost, in which case the Alters will still be alive, in which case we will be doomed anyway,” Caster reasoned. She pulled down her hood, revealing her frenzied, pleading face in all its blue-haired, pointy-eared glory. “Master, we must go.”

Emerald gnashed her teeth in frustration, but despite her lust for vengeance, she saw Medea’s point. Her plan had been to use Rule Breaker to kill Kirei and break off the obvious Command Seal order of suicide so that angry Gilgamesh would hopefully provide enough of a distraction for them to get away. If Kirei hadn’t seen through her semblance at the last second, she would have gotten him in his heart and avenged Cinder. As it was, her work was incomplete.

And it never would be completed if she died in this hellhole.

“Alright, you win,” Emerald conceded. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Emerald and Caster’s eyes widened, both of them whirling around at the deathly voice that called out to them like nails across a chalkboard. They looked all about until they finally narrowed down the taunt’s source to the pit of mud below.

Rising from the darkness, good as new in all her dark glory, was Salem, her black and red eyes narrowed at the pair. In an instant, a Nevermore swept down next to her, the Queen hopping on, and flying straight for the traitorous duo. Caster spawned a pink glyph and incinerated the Grimm in a beam of _prana_ , but they had already been high enough for Salem to jump down, cracking the stone of the castle with her landing.

“Why?” she hissed. “One more moment and victory would have been assured. You could have had everything you ever wanted!”

Emerald drew her kama. “I’m no one’s pawn. And I’m certainly not your mind-controlled sicko.”

“Sicko? That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think Emerald?”

“Shit,” the thief muttered, whirling around just as Rider Alter landed with a crash on the other side of the battlement corridor, cutting off their escape. He snarled at them as Weiss Alter hopped off his shoulder.

“After all, you’re the one who willing brought me to this place,” Weiss calmly pointed, brandishing her sword. “What? Can you do whatever you want as long as you’re looking out for number one?”

Emerald shrugged, trying to mask her growing dread with moxie. “Pretty much. And don’t start on one of those ‘humanity’s greatest sin is its selective morality’ rants, would you? That gets annoying after a while.”

“Traitorous swine,” Darius growled. “Do your oaths mean nothing?”

“Hey, I never claimed to be doing anything other than looking out for what I wanted.”

“Then why would you deny me?!” Salem snarled, her black gown riving with fury, black tentacles slinking out one by one. “In my new world, you would have had money, power, Cinder, everything! You would have been a queen!”

“Pawn or queen, they’re both still pieces,” Emerald smirked. “I’m a player.”

“A dead one.”

Salem flicked her hands, dark voids tearing open the air, riving Grimm claws erupting from the lightless realm as an unearthly _hiss_ sliced through the air. Weiss waved her sword and conjured half a dozen glyphs, a salvo of spectral swords blasting from the circles. Rider Alter simply charged in, his twin battle axes alight with green flames.

Caster threw out her hands to either side, conjuring a dome of violet energy to shield them both. It deflected Weiss’ swords well enough but buckled when Salem’s assault struck. Emerald had no doubt that Rider would be able to break through in a few blows. Already she could see the surrounding army of Grimm charging for the castle, most flying to the now roofless throne room, but a good chunk coming for them as well. They were pinned down as it was, if they didn’t do something drastic soon, their little insurrection would end as soon as it began.

Fortunately, they had prepared just the thing.

_‘Caster. Contingency plan.’_

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Arturia felt a storm of emotions rush through her body. Fury at Emerald and Caster’s betrayal of their mistress (after Merlin and Gilles, she should have learned not to trust spellcasters), shock at Ruby Rose’s, her son’s friend and the girl who had killed her, true identity, and most importantly, elation. It was finally time to do what she’d been promised she’d get to do.

Kill the King of Heroes.

It was perfect. He had no master, the vulnerable Weiss and Kirei had both fled the battlefield at first opportunity, and he was trapped in a world that stifled his every intrusion without his greatest weapon to counter it. Already the scores of portals he’d called flickered and dropped to a mere dozen, still a formidable force, but hardly the invincible wall of steel he’d brought to bear in previous encounters. She and Lancer both battered aside the swarm of projectiles with manageable effort, and once Hazel reformed, it would be irrelevant.

Still, waiting for that would be foolish. Gilgamesh’s rabid fury kept him on the assault, but as his _prana_ ran lower and lower, allowing him to force fewer and fewer portals through the Grimmlands’ resistance, there was a chance he would overcome his pride and simply retreat.

“KIREI, YOU SNAKE!!!” he roared. “I’LL TURN YOUR FILTHY TREACHEROUS BODY TO PUS, BASTARD!!!!!”

…

Okay, perhaps that was unlikely.

But it wasn’t like Lancer was waiting for her anyway.

The Hound of Chulainn charged in with wild abandon, his mouth wide with laughter as he danced through the oncoming blades. With his Protection from Arrows already in play, Gae Bolg swatted the barrage aside until the Lancer got close and planted a black armored foot squarely on Gilgamesh’s chest.

The King of Heroes’ eyes widened as he was kicked back with the force of a freight train, ramming through the doors to the throne room and three black stone walls beyond that, embedded into the cracked surface of the fourth.

“So, this is the King of Heroes,” Lancer remarked, dashing forward. “Not so tough without your fancy toys, are you?”

The Son of Lugh pushed forward his spear for a final thrust at his enemy’s head.

Gilgamesh scowled. A new portal opened before him, but this one released no weapon. Instead, it appeared a mere inch ahead in Gae Bolg’s path. Lancer, unable to stop his momentum, forced the crimson spear through the gate like it was his own sheath. A second golden gateway opened at Cu Chulainn’s back, the Irishman barely turning in time to have his weapon deliver a shallow slash across his throat, instead of splitting his skull in two.

With all the godlike speed at his disposal, Lancer removed his spear immediately and hopped back. He tentatively touched his fingers to the wound, black mud attempting to seal it like all others but a thin line of dark blood still running down his neck. “Well, how about that.”

Gilgamesh growled at the flickering gateway and raised his arm, closing his fist and, by that command, the portals. An instant later, he released his hand and eight more golden circles appeared around him, all locked on Lancer. “Damn you, mongrel!”

Arturia made her move. With all Gilgamesh’s attention on Lancer, she ignited her Prana Burst and rocketed towards him, Excalibur Morgan wreathed in shadows and baying for blood.

He saw her at the last second, making a mad leap to the side even as her sword swing fell. She felt the subtle, yet distinct resistance of her hellish steel carving through flesh and bone.

Once more, Gilgamesh went soaring through walls, the obsidian bursting into dust as the shockwave of her dark power forced back even him. At last, the King of Heroes slammed though the final outer wall, momentarily flying through the air. A portal quickly released a simple, yet elegant longsword into his grasp, the King of Heroes stabbing into the castle floor and pulling himself back in from the sky.

Minus his right arm, of course. Arturia smiled victoriously at having taken that.

Gilgamesh panted heavily, sweat slinking down his brow. Blood dribbled down from where his limb had been as he glared daggers at the Alters. “Saber, you truly have fallen far.”

“You realize we’re basically in hell, right?” Lancer quipped. “Not much further to go.”

Arturia wished he’d stop talking. Even now, Gilgamesh was not a foe to take lightly. They needed to kill him now before something happened and—why was his sword glowing like Caliburn?

In their brief pause, the King of Heroes had raised the sword he’d used to recover himself and it had suddenly set itself alight with a familiar blinding glow, the same light that burned away anything it touched as her first blade had possessed. But she knew the Sword of Selection like the back of her hand and this was certainly not it. Was it some other Noble Phantasm? The prototype of Caliburn’s legend perhaps?

This could be troublesome. She felt confident that her Excalibur could protect her from any blast this ancient blade might fire, but at such close range, she couldn’t say the same for anything else in the immediate vicinity. The castle, maybe even Lancer would be utterly obliterated if Gilgamesh swung that weapon. And with an invasion less than a day away, those were losses they could not afford.

“Damn him,” she snarled, pouring dark _prana_ into her sword. “Even in defeat, he plagues us.”

“Die, you disgusting mongrels!” he roared, the glowing blade raised at his side. “ **Merod—** ah!”

His shout was halted as he slammed down onto the floor, his slash interrupted and its energy dissipating as the sword joined him on the ground, the black stone splintering under the weight.

Arturia would have seized the moment and ended him then, but gravity seemed to amplify on both her and Lancer as well in that moment and they dropped to their knees. She forced herself to glance back and found exactly who she’d expected to see.

“Hazel,” she hissed to her reformed handler, his arm outstretched towards Gilgamesh. “Lessen the weight. I need to kill him!”

The King of Aura glared onward at the golden king, his eyes narrowed in hatred. “He’s the oldest of us all. It’s all I can to keep the castle from crumbling under his weight.”

“Then focus it!” Saber roared. “Crush him!”

“Gladly.”

Hazel’s fist closed, and though Arturia did not feel a shift in the enormous weight pressing down on her, she could see the effects on Gilgamesh. His golden armor crumpled inward along his back, digging hard into his flesh. The obsidian beneath him indented into a sizable crater, blood spurting out from his mouth as his ribs snapped in his chest. She could hear his bones snap all over his body as his body pressed further and further into the floor.

Four golden portals appeared above him, but they flickered wildly out of sync with the world, their master needing all the _prana_ he could just to keep from being turned into a pancake. What sparse weapons were released from their hold failed to shoot out like bullets as normal, instead being snagged from the air and smacking into the floor beside the king.

Arturia couldn’t help but grin. So close, just a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds and he would be dead.

 

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_“Understood, master.”_

Medea smirked and raised her hand. Rider’s flaming axes smashed down on her shield, shattering the pink barrier like glass.

But the sparse few seconds it provided was all she needed to activate her prepared spell. After all, the Grimmlands may have been Salem’s world, but the castle was _her_ territory.

She snapped her fingers and the dozens of glyphs she’d set up on key structural points of the castle exploded with enough power to tear apart a battleship.

A massive cone of pink _prana_ ripped out from the base of the black bastion, the supports of the throne room side crumbling into dust as a massive shockwave rippled out to decimate the approaching Grimm and knock everyone else off their feet. The ash from the collapsing wing quickly spread out over the battlement. Medea took the opportunity to snatch up Emerald and fly off, making a beeline for the dock and their escape vehicle.

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Arturia paled when she heard the explosion. She wasn’t sure what had caused the shockwave, but it quickly reached their wing of the castle, sending the entire room and more rocketing off to the side.

Except for the area that had already been pressured far beyond its structural capacity, the floor under Gilgamesh. With Hazel’s gravity still active, and what supports that were present now ash, the King of Heroes plummeted straight down, tumbling like a stone down the several story castle, all the way down to its very depths.

As Arturia soared through the air, too inhibited by the gravity upon her to make for him in time, she could only howl in fury at the machinations of fate.

 

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Moments ago, Gilgamesh had been many things. Disgusted, by his hideous and debased surroundings. Livid at the insinuation that the Sword of Rupture could be overcome by a mere semblance. Furious beyond the realms of gods and men at that _snake_ Kirei’s betrayal. Two-handed.

But as he plummeted down into the dark recesses of Salem’s castle, down an arm, nearly depleted of _prana_ , every bone in his body snapped or broken, his skull most likely fractured into his brain, and quite a bit of blood now outside his body, the only thing he could conceive of was how he couldn’t die here.

It was strange, to fear death again. He’d felt the sensation of his life being in danger before on Remnant, most prominently in his battles with Hercules and Archer, but fear of it? No. Death was part of life, a natural capstone to be embraced as another grand note in a hero’s symphony. He’d gone through a long journey to discover that truth, panicking in the face of the unknown after Enkidu’s demise. But when he’d seen how the gods, those supposed immortals, had cowered before death, jumped like horses spooked by their own shadows, he knew that such weakness was not for him. The king did not fear the inevitable, for he was the inevitable.

Besides, to die was to be where Enkidu was, and Gilgamesh had never longed for anything more than that.

But that was where this new dread rose from. Enkidu was the equal of the King of Heroes at his peak, the one being who could stand beside him as a friend. To return to him lessened, without Ea, would shame him.

He would not shame his friend. He would not die. He could _not_ die! Not yet!

With what scraps of magical energy he could scrounge together, Gilgamesh pushed through the interference of this infernal realm, more powerful than the field that had protected Beacon from him but far less refined, and conjured one last portal below. In the sparse seconds it managed to remain open, the gateway deposited dozens upon dozens of pillows from the king’s treasury, enough to form a venerable mountain in the witch’s dungeon. Gilgamesh struck the pile like a boulder from a mountaintop, but fortunately the feather stuffed bags were, like all his treasures, of the finest quality, and cushioned his fall enough that the pain he felt at the end might as well have come from a whisper of wind.

Which, given that his butchered body would have been agonized by the slightest pressure, was still unimaginably painful, but he was alive.

Now, he just needed to get up. He needed to get up, and find Ea. Boil Kirei and Salem in molten gold somewhere along the way, but finding Ea was the most important thing. The only thing that mattered. Certainly not the shadows that were beginning to cloud his vision—oh, he was falling unconscious. Had he ever fell unconscious before? He didn’t think he had.

Nonetheless, with his body and spirit spent from the battle, the last thing he saw before darkness claimed his sight was a young boy in the clothes of a farmhand lugging him over his shoulder quite unbefittingly of a king and dragging him towards a hole in the dungeon wall, the crimson violet landscape and crimson sky visible just beyond.

 

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Raven groaned as she slowly regained consciousness, a familiar crimson sky haunting her vision, reminding her exactly how hopeless it all was.

Her plan had failed. Over fifteen years, so many sacrifices, and it was all for nothing. Salem knew the truth and she would come for Ruby with every Grimm and demon she could muster. And that was if Gilgamesh had been slain in the battle.

_‘I’m sorry, Summer, Tai, Qrow. I failed. Everything failed.’_

 There was nothing more she could do. Her aura had barely kept her alive during the weeks of Kirei’s torture. Even if she hadn’t been bound in the Chains of Heaven, her body was too exhausted to flee, let alone fight. And that was before Hazel had slammed her with the force of a bullhead and knocked her unconscious.

Now, she was slung over some shoulder like a sack of potatoes, her flickering eyelids barely allowing her to gaze up at the sky, dust and ruin circling all around her. She tilted her head as much as she could to get a look at her carrier, recognizing his sleek dark robe and neatly cropped brown hair.

_‘Kirei. So, he survived the assault.’_

And if the unearthly howl of frustration she heard was anything to go by, he wasn’t the only one.

“Find him!” Salem roared, scattering every nearby Grimm, and even causing the nearby Weiss to flinch. “There’s no way he died from the fall. That bastard is far too stubborn.”

The venerable horde of Grimm surged out from the battlement, taking to the skies to locate their target. Gilgamesh, most likely. He was the only male who would have aggravated the Queen at the moment.

Raven had little time to ponder any possible alternatives before she was dumped onto the hard black stone.

“Well,” Kirei remarked. “That could have gone better.”

“Damn Emerald. Why is it whenever I offer people their greatest desire, they always refuse? First Kiritsugu, now this,” Salem growled. She let out a long sigh, before returning to her former poise. “No matter. We can only move forward. I trust from your continued existence that your exit from the throne room went well.”

“Indeed, the Nevermore performed its job quite admirably. Though, sadly it was caught in the shockwave.” Kirei reported. “Caster, I presume.”

“Yes. She and her traitorous Master seem to have taken a bullhead and fled. Rider is in pursuit, but his mount is hardly the fastest in the Throne, and Watts made a great many modifications to his ship. He might catch them in time, but with Atlas and the other masters bearing down on us, we’ll need him here.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” Weiss inquired. “It will be far more difficult to track them down if we let them loose in the world.”

Salem grinned victoriously. “Where will they go? At long last, my four keys, the tools with which I was to sunder the defense of the eternal isle, the weapons that Ozpin _stole_ from me so long ago, are mine again. Emerald and Caster will have nowhere to hide when All the World’s Evils is All the World.”

Despite faking still being unconsciousness, Raven couldn’t help but cringe in terror. She had no idea when the queen had acquired the Relic of Creation, but if it was true, then they were all in imminent danger. Even if Gilgamesh had survived the assassination attempt, Salem had still achieved her primary objective by seizing the Relic of Knowledge. Now, she had all four.

Now, she could open the gate to Avalon.

Everyone would die, all over the world, no matter the kingdom, no matter the race, human or faunus. Tai would die, Qrow would die…

Yang would die.

 _No_.

She couldn’t let that happen. She had to do something, _anything_. She had to get to her.

Her semblance had been subtle enough to slip through the Grimmlands’ hampering on reality disturbances, but that had been when she’d had her sword to focus her powers. Without it, it would take more time than she’d get to make a human-sized portal under the best of circumstances, let alone now, when the very fabric of the world would push back against her. She’d be lucky if she could make a gateway the size of a baseball…

Wait… that was all she needed. Yes, that could work. She could get back to Yang!

“We’ll form our final stratagem once our friends dig themselves out from the throne wing,” Salem declared. She grinned maliciously, tentacles creeping out from under her gown. “In the meantime, I believe it’s time to put the final maiden to rest.”

Well, if that wasn’t her cue, Raven didn’t know what was.

Her eyes ignited with the fire of a maiden and she conjured a tornado all around her, forcing Kirei and Weiss back and lifting her battered body up into the sky. She forced every ounce of energy and power she had left into her arm and activated her semblance, an image of baby Yang when she’d first held her so long ago flashing through her mind for the bond. It felt like she was trying to force a waterfall back up a mountain, but she managed to forge a small portal, barely the size of her outstretched palm, into the air.

She smirked and activated Ozpin’s final gift to her. Funny, the magic she’d long bemoan would be her salvation in her darkest hour. Just as Lancelot and Hercules had protected her through their madness, now she would use her sins to make some slight recompense.

Her bird form shifted into being, and she fluttered for the portal, ready to see her daughter again.

Then she was suddenly snagged on her talons, the tension snatching her back like a rope that’d gone taut.

“Ah, ah,” Salem clicked, her hand elegantly outstretched. A dark void of space was opened where Raven had once laid, half a dozen lanky Grimm arms stretched out and gripping hard on her bird form. “No running this time.”

No, no, no, no, no! She was so close! The tip of her beak was already peeking through the portal, just one more foot and she’d be through! Just one more damn foot!

But she couldn’t escape. She struggled with everything she had, but for every Grimm arm she forced off with wind or fire, another two just shot up from Salem’s black tear. Kirei and Weiss would return soon and then she wouldn’t be going anywhere—No. She wasn’t going anywhere.

It was just like Salem said. There was no running this time. She was going to die here, in this hellish place. After all her striving, all her scheming, there was no way to avoid it. She’d danced with the most powerful devils in creation and come up short. The strong lived and the weak died. And there was no one weaker than her.

But there was no one stronger than Yang. Her beautiful baby girl, who deserved everything in the world. Who deserved so much than her. Tai had raised her well.

Now, she needed to do her part, however late, however insufficient. She would do what she could and pray that Yang and Ruby could handle the rest.

Just like Summer.

Heaving every last ounce of strength, magic, and power she had left, Raven heaved forward. She didn’t get that foot, not by a long shot, but she was able to jump forward a bare few inches, enough to get her bird head through the portal.

She saw them then, in some sort of lab. Ruby pushing Yang behind her as both of them dropped into combat stances, staring right at the minuscule crimson and black gateway.

Raven shifted back to human, screeching out even as the size of the portal choked her by the laws of space. “ _She has all four_!”

It was the best warning she could give. Without her wings, she had no way to counter Salem’s pull and she could already feel claws digging into her arms to ensure they did not return. In a moment, she would be returned to hell so she could be drained of her power and slaughtered like a calf.

Fortunately, she was quite sure, in that instant, and perhaps since she’d first laid eyes on her, she was thinking of Yang.

She released her semblance, and reality snapped shut around her throat.

 

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It took a good few seconds before Yang realized the ear-splitting scream tearing through the lab was her own. Considering the state of the rest of her mind, she thought that could be excused.

The portal… had… had opened, and the bird came out… and then the bird was her mom, and then she said something, and then the portal closed, and then—

Oh gods, there was so much blood. Her head… in the corner, and then the light had shot out of it and into her and—

Her arms shot to the sides of her head. She staggered back against the wall, a tornado whipping up around the room. It was getting hard to breathe, or was it she was breathing too much? She couldn’t tell, she couldn’t _think_ , her head felt like a thousand voices had suddenly shrieked inside it at once, it was all… it was all too--

“Yang!” Ruby shouted fearfully, her hood billowing behind her in the typhoon. Her little sister gripped her shoulders tight and forced her to stare into her silver eyes. “Calm down! Yang, you have to calm down!”

“Raven… mom… she’s… she just…”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Yang,” she persisted, desperate to be heard above the howling wind. “But if you this up, you knock the whole ship out of the sky. Calm down, please! For me!”

For her. For Ruby. That’s right.

She would do anything for Ruby.

Bit by bit, the rush of voices in Yang’s mind quieted. Her frantic hyperventilating slowed down to pants, the tornado dissipating along with it. At last, she collapsed to her hands and knees, Ruby supporting her all the way to the floor.

The doors to the lab _whooshed_ open and False Ruler rushed in, her plasma blades ignited. “What was that disturbance? The entire ship—what in the world?”

Ruby winced sympathetically at her sister before looking to the robot girl. “Call everyone to the war room. We’re in even more trouble than we thought.”

Yang couldn’t even do that much, turning to the glass partition separating the room from some sort of recharging station. She stared blankly at her reflection in the barrier. More specifically, the crimson fire blazing over her eyes.


	77. Darkest Hour, Defiant Light

_Waver had seen a lot of things in his short life, some that most people would call wonderous or impossible. The heart of mage society within the Clocktower, the endless expanse of his legendary sovereign’s soul, and even the genesis of hell on Earth as a maelstrom of black mud erupted over the skies of Fuyuki. He wouldn’t have survived that last one if Merlin hadn’t intervened when he did._

_Still, even with humanity scrambling for survival under a night that seemed never-ending, the Mage’s Association defunct for all intents and purposes, its leaders and members either dead or having reclused themselves, uncaring for the apocalypse, there was just something intrinsically creepy about an abandoned marble castle._

_“Are you sure we’re going to find anything worthwhile here?” he asked his companion. The pair of them explored deeper and deeper into the dim marble castle, all lights extinguished, walls that were once pristine white crumbled and broken, some appearing to have been melted like lava. “It doesn’t look like Angra Mainyu left much behind.”_

_The Magus of the Flowers chuckled, a trail of pink petals endlessly spawning behind him. “I doubt it did. The Einzberns were hardly kind to it when they summoned Avenger. They were expecting a God of Darkness and were quite disappointed when they only received a mortal man.”_

_“Well, they got their wish now,” Waver muttered, his suspicious eyes scanning the shadows as they descended into the depths of the dungeons. “Looks like whatever defenses they had prepped for handling the Servant they expected to get didn’t do much.”_

_“More than most would have,” Merlin noted, commanding the ball of radiant light he had floating through the air to brighten their way. “The mud had to retreat and regroup. It’s hardly wounded, however. It will be back soon, and in greater force. And when that happens, this place will be less than dust.”_

_“Which means we need to find whatever repelled it fast,” Waver finished. They needed every advantage they could get if they were to have any hope of saving humanity from the edge of extinction. Eventually, the pair came to the end of a rugged stone corridor, unremarkable except for the soft blue light emanating from under the heavy doorway. “What are the odds it’s behind there?”_

_Merlin smirked, his mouth quirked upward in that little smile that made Waver think he knew more than he was telling him. He brought the illumination orb in front of him. “Stand back.”_

_Waver did just that. Thanks to his king, he had made peace with his own unremarkable talents as a mage. He was diligent and hardworking, able to see simple solutions that eluded most of his kind’s obsession with tradition, but he hardly had the raw power of the legendary mage of King Arthur. He stuck around to help however he could, but there was no pretense that his partner was the one who’d be doing the heavy lifting._

_The orb of light shot forward, a brilliant flash coating the hall in a blinding glow. When Waver could see again, the ten-foot slab of stone had disappeared._

_Merlin strode into the room and sighed, shaking his head morosely. “Damnit.”_

_Waver was confused at his partner’s reaction until he followed him in and saw the room for himself. Half of it was a catacomb, lit by an ethereal blue glow, a pool of murky water collecting amidst the tomb. But within the water were bodies, a mountain of bodies, some of them bent, broken, or singed, but all with red eyes and white hair. Save for an elderly looking man at the front of the pile, they all looked exactly like the master of Saber Waver had met in Fuyuki._

_He felt bile rise in his throat, a visceral instinct to vomit flooding his body. But he held it back. He had succumbed to it when he’d seen Caster’s lair, the disemboweled corpses of innocent children littering the sewers. There was no shame in that, it was a natural reaction, a sign of common decency. But he couldn’t afford it now, just as Rider hadn’t been able to afford it then. Angra Mainyu would be there in minutes, they had to find whatever the Einzberns had used to force it back and get out._

_A plan that was somewhat complicated by the four foot screaming bloody murder at him._

_“What the—” he exclaimed as the white-haired leapt towards his face, howling as she pulled back her tiny fist for a punch. He reinforced his arms and caught her midair, holding her back as she flailed at his head. “Who are you?”_

_“You’re not going to kill me without a fight!” the girl yelled. She brushed a hand over her hair, one of her silver strands suddenly glowing sapphire and streaking towards Waver’s throat. “I’ll make you pay for what you did to momma and papa!”_

_Waver flinched as the clearly enchanted hair made for him, but fortunately, it was halted mid-strike by a stream of flower petals. A moment later, he released the girl and took a step back, the child’s crimson eyes widening as she floated in midair._

_“Thanks,” Waver said to his partner._

_“No problem,” Merlin replied. He turned to their new acquaintance. “Now, young lady. I’ll admit I’ve been away from the world for a while, but when I was last here it was not acceptable behavior for a highborn lady such as yourself to attempt to stab her gallant rescuers in the back.”_

_The girl scowled, though there was clearly a great deal of fear hidden behind her glare. “Why should I believe you? You’re just another illusion created by Angra Mainyu to torment me! Just like mama and papa were!”_

_“Have you ever met us before? Seen us before?” Waver inquired. “Do you have even the slightest clue who we are?”_

_“Um… well… no.”_

_“Then why would Angra Mainyu show us to you if we were illusions? That seems like pretty terrible torture.”_

_The girl opened her mouth to shoot something back in her defense but froze before anything came out. Her eyes widened as a hint of hope dared to fill them. Merlin gently set her back down on the floor._

_“If you’re not illusions, then who are you?” she inquired tentatively._

_“This young man here is Waver Velvet,” the Magus of the Flowers introduced him. “And as for me, I was born Emrys, but most call me Merlin.”_

_“Merlin? Yeah right,” the girl snorted. “And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”_

_“We’re in the middle of the apocalypse, Lady Illyasviel. I’d advise expanding your horizons at the earliest opportunity.”_

_The girl shot up straight immediately. “How do you know my—”_

_“I’m a seer, my dear. That infernal mud might be doing its best to block my sight, but I still get some things.”_

_“Which you really need to share more often,” Waver nudged him. It wasn’t too much of a leap to guess that saving this Illyasviel was their objective the entire time. Which he was fine with, he just wished his partner had let him know ahead of time._

_He turned towards the pile of bodies. “What happened here?”_

_Illyasviel frowned and looked down to her feet, ashamed. “The mud came for us. Grandfather Acht had some defenses prepared, but all that did was stall it for a bit, and even then, it crept into our minds, infecting our dreams, twisting everything we love-- Eventually, Grandfather brought everyone down here, prepared a ritual to boost the bounded field and force it off.”_

_“By sacrificing everyone but himself,” Merlin growled icily. “Despicable.”_

_“The Einzbern must survive to reclaim their magic,” Illyasviel muttered. “He’d just activated the ritual, everyone prana started being sucked out, but I… I was so scared. I ran. Grandfather tried to chase after me, but Sella grabbed him at the last second before the spell triggered, dragging him in. Now… now they’re all dead. I killed them. Everything momma and papa fought for in Japan, everything they died for, the Einzbern name, I killed it!”_

_Waver instantly knelt to comfort the young girl as tears started pouring out of her eyes. He pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. Forcing a kid to be some battery… your parents wouldn’t have wanted that.”_

_“Your name is Einzbern, my lady, as it was your mother’s before you,” Merlin concurred. “Your family lives on in you. And they would be proud of that fact.”_

_The girl sniffled, the whites of her eyes still red from crying, but her face steeled in a mask of bravery. “You two… you came here for a reason. You must have, the mud will be back to finish the job soon.”_

_“That can wait,” Waver declared. “We need to get you to safety.”_

_“There won’t be such a thing as safety anywhere in the world if we don’t kill the mud,” Merlin reminded him. He looked to Illyasviel. “Do you know where Acht’s materials are? Anything related to his countermeasures against Angra Mainyu?”_

_“I… I think,” the girl declared. “It’s in a study not far from here, along with some experiments he was toying with to reclaim the Third Magic.”_

_“The materialization of the soul,” Merlin noted, as if everyone there didn’t already know what the True Magics did. “Yes, that could be helpful. Obviously, it was fruitless, but maybe they’ll be something we can use. Please, show us the way.”_

_Illyasviel nodded and she took off down the hall. Waver followed after side by side with Merlin._

_He wasn’t sure if staying behind and risking the mud catching them all was a good idea, but his partner wasn’t wrong about the stakes. If they didn’t find some way to stop Angra Mainyu, the human race would be extinct within months. No matter what Waver’s reservations about risking the young girl’s life, it wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t do the impossible and vanquish All the Worlds’ Evils._

_‘Glory lies beyond the horizon! Challenge it because it is unreachable! Speak of conquest and demonstrate it!’_

_Despite himself, a grin split Waver’s face. No matter the odds, they would face down the mud to the end. And as long as he lived, he would never let Angra Mainyu destroy the world his king had sought to conquer._

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It had been ten minutes since the battle with Gilgamesh, Emerald, and Caster, and Weiss found she still couldn’t get her breathing under control.

She’d seen Saber and the Queen’s memories of the King of Heroes, hell she’d seen him firsthand at Beacon Tower. But while there he’d been as infuriatingly radiant as ever, he’d also been restrained, with even his rage at Arturia and Jaune held back by his arrogant decorum.

Such inhibition had not been present in their most current encounter. The barrage he’d unleashed before he’d begun to run out of _prana_ … if he’d hadn’t been weakened by the Grimmlands…

She shuddered at the thought. Such dreadful thinking would do her no good. They had won the battle, driven off their gravest threat. Though hardly without a price.

Caster’s explosion had torn through the castle like a hot knife through butter. The entire eastern wing, including the throne room, had collapsed into the winding canyon beyond, with the northern wing overlooking the primary mud pit also sustaining significant damage. Fortunately, the blast hadn’t seemed to have damaged too much of the western and southern halls, the Greater Grail’s chamber in particular had come out relatively unscathed. However, there was a particular set of holes in the dungeon that the Queen found… distressing.

“They’re gone,” Salem hissed, the pack of Beringels and Beowolves surrounding her cowering at the black aura radiating off her form. She’d already been infuriated by Raven Branwen’s final fate, ending herself so as to prevent the Mother of Grimm from extracting her power. Now, standing amidst the rubble of her own dungeon and learning that the farm boy who’d housed Ozpin and, far more importantly, the King of Heroes were gone had not helped her temper in the slightest. “They’re _gone._ ”

“Congrats, your grace. You can still see. Looks like the pits built your new body right.”

“Lancer!” Weiss called with a smile, whirling about as Cu Chulainn, Arturia, and Hazel trudged down into the black depths, flakes of dust running down their armor. She rushed over to her Servant and leapt into his arms, the both of them wrapping their arms around each other. “Thank goodness, you’re alright.”

He responded to her worries with that roguish smirk of his. Bastard. “Why the hysterics, my lady? Did you really think it’d only take one measly King of Heroes to do me in?”

“We both know he would have skewered you if—what is this?” Weiss squinted at Lancer’s neck, a line of caked black mud cutting across his throat. “Why hasn’t this healed?”

“Ah, that,” Lancer cringed, though she suspected more from her reprimand than any actual pain. “Turns out a cornered king is the same as a cornered rat, crafty and vicious. His damn portals made me stab myself with my own spear. Even I can’t heal completely from Gae Bolg.”

“I thought the Queen could heal cursed wounds?” Weiss inquired. “She is all the world’s curses after all.”

“Such healing still takes time, Weiss,” Arturia curtly informed her as she walked past the pair. “My scabbard is the same way. Though its regenerative properties are capable of restoring that which is normally irreparable, the process of dismantling the curse still takes far more time than any normal healing.”

“In which time, even I could still die from them. In theory, anyway,” Cu Chulainn shrugged. “Cheer up, my lady. I’m sure it’d heal faster with a kiss.”

“What? Why would a kiss improve the mending process—oh.”

She glared at his maddening smirk for a solid three seconds before she reluctantly yet tenderly placed her lips on the scar.

“Don’t make it a habit, okay? I won’t have you throwing fights just to get more of these.”

“Ha! Wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. I’d never bring dishonor to your name by not giving it my all. Besides, that’d be boring.”

“Brute,” she huffed, as he set her back down, trying to hide the rose tint rising to her cheeks.

Hazel and Arturia marched up to the Queen, both giving a mistrustful glance to Kirei Kotomine at her side.

“You actually went through with it,” Saber Alter remarked.

“Gilgamesh’s goals no longer aligned with my own,” the priest replied casually, as if they were talking about the weather and not the attempted assassination of the most powerful hero to ever live. “The choice was simple.”

“But that does not mean your aims align with ours,” Arturia challenged.

Kirei shrugged. “I wish to see the new world to come, and to battle conclusively with the approaching Heroes of Justice. I believe that will work well enough with your plans.”

“You’re not killing Ruby,” Weiss declared firmly. “I don’t care about this Ea preposterousness, or whatever fetish you’ve got, but she is my friend. We will bask in the glory of the new world together. Is that understood?”

Kirei smirked. “You think you can corrupt her? By all means, you are welcome to _try_ if she comes to you first.”

“She will,” Weiss sneered. “Ruby cares about her friends, not bastards she hates like you.”

Kirei chuckled, as if seeing some hidden irony in her words. “After all that’s happened, after all you’ve become, do really think she doesn’t hate you?”

“Watch it, priest,” Lancer growled, raising his spear to Kirei’s chest.

“Enough!” Salem snapped, shadows flaring all around. “Lancer, do not antagonize our newest ally. Kirei, I would thank you not to provoke my apprentice for amusement. You will all have everything you desire, so desist with this petty squabbling.”

Lancer snarled, but ultimately withdrew Gae Bolg. Kirei grinned and bowed his head to the Queen, as he should.

Weiss herself however, frowned. As infuriating as the priest often was, he was usually insightful. So to have him say that… did Ruby… did she hate her?

No, of course not, why would she? She’d dedicated herself to freeing her and their teammates from Ozpin’s crusade, so they could all be together as a team. Of course, there was her foolishness at Kuroyuri, but that could be forgiven, right? Blake had been good as new a few days later, and she couldn’t think of anything else she’d done that Ruby would be mad about.

Her partner didn’t hate her, did she?

**Of course not. We lead her to salvation. She may be confused, as we were before we became one, but she knows not hatred for us.**

Yes. She was saving Ruby. With Gilgamesh needing to be eliminated, whatever body had been created around Ea was not long for the world. But with the Relic of Creation, the Queen would be able to provide a substitute, one that would truly be her partner’s own, not some facsimile crafted by a huntress who only saw her as a weapon.

They would live. They would all live happily ever after in the loving shadow of the Queen.

“Gilgamesh escaped,” said Queen scowled. She looked to Hazel. “The boy helped him.”

The Last Hero bowed his head. “I take full responsibility, your grace.”

“Save your apologies, old friend, I would not be here without your compassion, I can hardly blame you for it,” Salem noted.

“Allow us to pursue, my queen,” Arturia requested. “He is still wounded. If we strike soon—”

“There is an army at our gates, Saber. However much the King of Heroes may warrant it, we cannot all seek him out,” Salem pointed out. “I’ve already recalled Rider from his chase of Emerald and Caster. You and Lancer will be needed here as well.”

“We cannot just let him go!”

“We will not. I am not so foolish as to leave an angry dagger at our back,” Salem declared. “Hazel, let the boy live if you wish, but the King of Heroes must die this night. Do you understand?”

The King of Aura’s normally stoic face tightened into a furious scowl at the mention of Gilgamesh. “Perfectly.”

“Good. And Hazel, thank you.”

The giant cocked an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Your loyalty,” Salem replied, an honest, tender grace playing across her hellish features. The contrast was strange, but oddly amicable. “An eternity of waiting, unending suffering. Tonight, all your trials shall be paid in full. I promise, old friend. You will have peace.”

It was strange, to see such blunt gratitude from their monarch, but Weiss supposed it made sense. Of all the Alters, Hazel had resisted the Queen’s call for an eon before finally rallying to her side, but he’d never truly moved against her in that time. And once he’d joined her banner, he’d stuck to it fast. Even the return of the king who’d given him the basis for one of his Noble Phantasm had not been enough to sway the man’s conviction.

Of course, that didn’t mean the Queen put him through such turmoil again by having him face the King of Conquerors in battle once more. She was considerate that way.

Hazel stared at Salem in silence for a few moments, no pleasure or fury emanating from his gaze. At last, he simply bowed and marched out the largest hole in the dungeon wall.

Salem sighed and turned to the rest of them. “Saber, destroy the incoming fleet with your Noble Phantasm.”

“With Mordred present, they will be able to counter it at least once.”

“I have no doubt. At the world’s final twilight, I would be immensely surprised if our opposition was pushed back so easily,” Salem declared. “But we don’t need to kill them, merely delay them.”

The Queen’s black gown parted like the curtains of a stage, four pitch-black tentacles emerging forth, holding a majestic golden sword, a familiar blue and gold lantern, a simple ringlet crown inlaid with a single green jewel, and a rugged torch that instantly expanded out into an ornate spear. Now brought together, each of the Relics hummed with intrinsic power, an instinctive will of sheer _possibility_ echoing through Weiss’ very essence.

“Once the ritual has begun it cannot be stopped unless all four are destroyed, though their individual destructions will slow the process,” Salem informed them. “Protect them.”

“The gate to Avalon won’t open immediately?” Weiss inquired.

“Obtaining a path to an isle normally unreachable even by the Second Magic? My dear, it took considerable effort to find a way at all. A few hours of waiting is a small price to pay.”

Salem smiled softly at the treasures in her grasp. “Just a few hours more.”

Kirei grinned, and for once, Weiss joined him. Just a few hours more, and the world would be born anew, within the grasp of All the World’s Evils.

Salem’s tentacles crumbled into the Relics, tainting them black like ink staining a canvas, their golden hue gone. The hum of their power steadily increased until they shook madly in the Queen’s grip, sparks of dark lightning rocketing out between them. The instinctive urge that had radiated through Weiss now spread until all of creation seemed to be shaking in anticipation.

The knowledge of potential, and the path to achieve it.

The boundless aptitude to create, to forge the road past the impossible.

The unmatched will to destroy, to annihilate any obstacle that stands in the way.

And the choice, the simple but oh so crucial decision to go through with it all, no matter the consequences.

The Relic erupted in a halo of primordial orange light, the hue of the first flame before man’s pitiful mind had ever conceived fire. The quartet ripped themselves from Salem’s grip, the shockwave exploding her body apart as the treasures shot into the sky. When they reached the very crest of the heavens of hell, they splintered into four comets, their trails leading back down to the ground, to the cardinal directions. North, south, east, and west, each one about a mile away from their opposite.

From each of the landing points, a cascade of light shot up, the quartet coalescing at their equidistant point, piercing through the crimson sky into… something? A void? Weiss saw it as pure white, but she had a feeling that was only because her mind could not comprehend what she was actually seeing.

 _“Make for the landing points,”_ Salem’s voice commanded, hissing through the wind as her new body undoubtedly rose from one of the countless pits across the Grimmlands. _“This is the final hour.”_

The titanic horde of raised their heads to the sky and howled in triumph. Several packs dashed out to the four crucial locations, but most took to the east, charging past the collapsed ruin of the throne room and onward to the final war.

Yet, even as Weiss made for the western Relic, she noticed that the Grimm were leaving a sizable corridor in their march, whether on the ground or in the air. Arturia’s methodical walk into said opening answered its purpose, her sword igniting with sinful, draconic flames as she hopped aboard a Wyvern’s back.

Weiss had full confidence that her team would find a way to survive what was coming, though admittedly she wasn’t exactly sure how. In the end, though, the method didn’t matter. Team RWBY would come to her. They would all be together to celebrate the dawn of the new world.

 

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“Are you sure she was talking about the Relics?” Ironwood inquired, his calm, commanding demeanor absent in the face of Raven’s final message.

Ruby nodded. “What other ‘all four’ would she have been referring to?”

“Plus, you know, the massive shockwave that just rippled through reality, that’s a pretty decent clue,” Mordred snarked. “Probably caused a few heart attacks somewhere.”

“And the sky beam,” Nora added. “Sky beams are never good.”

The general sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

Ruby completely agreed. The masters and their allies had gathered on the command deck of the _Mantle_ , the huntsmen and Servants surrounding a large rectangular table with various system controls on its side. Only Yang, Iskandar, and Vernal were absent, the latter saying she had a way to get the former’s new powers “lined up right”.

The red reaper wished she could do more for her sister. Whatever Yang had felt for Raven, seeing her die like that right in front of her like that, and getting the Spring Maiden’s powers rammed into her head… they were lucky she’d been able to calm down enough to stop her tornado. Ruby knew what seeing a loved one die right front of you did to a person, she’d held Uncle Shirou as he’d faded away, but as she gazed out the bridge’s plexiglass windows and spotted the steadily approaching tide of Grimm, she knew that they could not afford to slow down. They were in the endgame.

“Fortunately, according to what Ozpin told me of the Relics, we still have a bit of time before Salem wins,” Ironwood informed them. “That much power takes time to do its work. If we can disable all four, or preferably kill Caster and have one of you get the Grail, we might still be able to win this.”

“Disable?” Jaune asked with a frown. “You mean destroy, right?”

The general nodded.

Jaune growled, but Mordred placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do we know where the Relics are?”

Ironwood flicked a switch on the console. A cyan hologram of an old fashioned castle appeared over the table. “Qrow provided us with intelligence on Salem’s castle during his excursions into the Grimmlands. With the kind of power they just put out, a simple scan should reveal… where they are.”

Everyone’s eyes widened. Orange blips had materialized at various points around and in the model of the castle.

 _Five_ points.

“That’s impossible,” Ironwood muttered. “What could point out that kind of energy other than a Relic?”

“It could be a decoy,” Blake suggested. “Salem must know we’d try and take them out.”

“That’s possible,” Kiritsugu conceded, stroking his chin in thought. “Or maybe…”

“The Grail,” Penelope finished with a frown.

Winter raised an eyebrow. “I thought the body of the utilized maiden became the grail? Cinder Fall, correct? How would Salem have obtained it from Gilgamesh?”

“She had to get the Relic of Knowledge from him somehow,” the False Ruler noted. “But that is just the Lesser Grail. It collects the magical energy of the defeated Servants. More likely, this fifth signature is the Greater Grail, the entity that actually precipitates the war.”

“How do you know that?” Ilia inquired.

“I am a Ruler. We are granted a special connection to the Grail to aid in our duties,” Penelope explained, narrowing her eyes at the hologram. “Jeanne sensed something here during the last war, but I never thought… “

“Can you pinpoint which one it is?” Ruby asked.

The robot girl shook her head. “Only that it is somewhere in the castle.”

Ruby scowled. Three of the orange points, in the castle’s center, southern hall and western rampart, were inside the castle. “We’ll just have to get them all then. How much time do we have before the ritual is complete?”

“If all four remain operational,” Ironwood muttered. “Two hours tops.”

“Can the fleet make it there in time?”

“General!” one of the helmsmen shouted. “We have incoming!”

All eyes turned to the horizon, or where it should have been at least. But the crimson sky… wasn’t, anymore. It was black, and full of feathers, claws, and talons.

Grimm. A million of them at least, probably more. Nevermores, Griffons, Sphinxes, in numbers that put even Ruby’s gravest nightmares to shame. Manticores spoken of in hushed tones even by elite huntsmen could be seen by the thousands, volleys of blazing hellfire already erupting from their mouths. Wyverns, legendary demons known to sack entire cities if given the chance, led the swarm, globs of sickly mud falling to the ground with every flap of their wings, spawning reinforcements of the horde before a shot had even been fired.

The Atlesian Fleet had invaded hell, and now its endless denizens had come to defend their home.

“No,” Ironwood declared, his tone rigid as he clutched his shaking flesh and blood hand, a hail of gunfire erupting in the sky. “Not if we have to fight through that. The battleships would barely make it unimpeded, and any bullhead that tries to make it through that would be torn to shreds.”

His hand stilled at his side, practiced discipline seeping through his body and hiding any fear. Ruby could admire that. It wouldn’t do for the men to see their commander unsure.

“Have all squadrons form up in defensive positions,” the general ordered. “Have the gunships strafe the ground to take out anything that can hit us at range, the bullheads in loose formation to keep them in front of us. Then light them up with the main cannons!”

“We should get out there,” Mordred declared, conjuring Clarent in her hand.

“You came to us for help so that you could save your strength for the Alters,” Winter pointed out. “Even if you charged straight through on Rider’s chariot, they would hound you the entire way there. You wouldn’t have the energy to win, and that’s if none of them get a lucky strike in on the way.”

“We can’t waste our time here,” Blake growled in frustration, Lancer frowning at her side. “We have to get to the castle and kill Caster now! We have to breakthrough.”

“Maybe we don’t,” Ruby muttered, a plan slowly taking shape in her mind. “If we can get around… Ren, how many people can you—”

“Sir!” the helmsman interrupted urgently. “There’s a massive amount of energy building up behind the Grimm’s lines!”

“What?”

That’s when they saw it. The Grimm parted down the middle like a great sea, the crimson sky visible once more. But only for an instant, for a great pillar of black fire erupted soon after, ablaze in perverted mockery of the feeble hope of mankind.

Ruby’s eyes went wide. “Mordred! Get outside now!”

The Knight of Rebellion offered no complaint and dissipated into spirit form, undoubtedly headed for the roof of the battleship.

“She’ll only be able to stop it once,” Jaune said, holding up his single remaining Command Seal. “After that—”

“I’ve got it covered,” Ruby assured him, already racing for the door. “Penelope, Kiritsugu, we all need to get up there too. The rest of you, get a bullhead prepped.”

“What are you going to do?” Blake asked.

Despite herself, Ruby shot back an honest smile, full of confidence she did not actually have and hope she needed them all to feel. “What heroes do.”

She activated her semblance and dashed out into the hall, the trail of rose petals charging towards a hatch to the roof with Assassin and False Ruler right behind.

 

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Arturia did not smile as she held her tainted blade aloft, its hellish blade extending upward to pierce the very heavens. She could have sworn her Wyvern mount cackled at its ignition, for just the normal Excalibur was the crystallization of humanity’s hope, this perverted Sword of Promised Victory told of the strivings of all evil. Perhaps that was appropriate, after all, it was twistedly ironic that she was now allied to her former master’s nemesis, with the man himself incoming on the invasion force, his cruelty determined to ‘save’ the world once more. Even if she could understand Kiritsugu a little better, she’d much rather leave him to Kotomine. Let him be dealt with by someone who liked interacting with the man.

The Dark-Tainted Tyrant would have vastly preferred to be chasing down the King of Heroes, but she could not deny Hazel was better suited to the task. And with the undeniable need for the Relics to be protected while they opened the path to Avalon, it was for the best that they played to their specialties. The Last Hero would slay the first, and she would crush this invading army beneath her boot, just like so many others before them.

Atlas’ forces were still nearly a hundred miles out, even with her position above the Eastern Canyon. While her Noble Phantasm was meant to be used at long range, that would be a bit much even for her blade. Luckily, within her Queen’s world, her blade was empowered even more. The distance would still be a strain, the power would be reduced a bit, but she was certain her foes would only have one counter than could hold it off.

Mordred would do her best. Perhaps she’d even be able to get off two blasts. But the simple fact was that Salem’s _prana_ was unlimited and Jaune’s was not. Arturia’s attacks would not require a Command Seal to match like at the White Fang’s Headquarters due to the distance, but they would still match her son’s Noble Phantasm, and Excalibur could fire at a faster rate.

Eventually, either due to being unable to charge her blade fast enough or simply running out of magical energy, Mordred would be overwhelmed. The fleet would burn, and her sons would die.

She wished to all heaven that there was another way, that they would simply see reason and join the Queen, join her, so they could all of them be happy in the new world.

But alas, they had made their choice, and even as she was proud of their conviction, she knew she had to end them. She could only hope the rest of her family could forgive her when she saw them again.

“ **Excalibur Morgan!** ”

She brought down her blade and the black flames of hell came with it, screeching forth to annihilate the heroes who challenge their tyrannical reign.

Perhaps as was natural, the crimson lightning of rebellion barreled out to meet them, colliding with the sinful blaze as a mile out from the Atlas flagship. The twin pillars of freedom and order surged against one another, thunder and fire careening out in a shockwave that ripped bullheads and Grimm alike from the skies just from being nearby.

In time, the blasts exhausted each other, the insurrection unbowed and the enemy fleet unbroken.

Arturia did not mind. For her victory was a promised one.

She raised her blade once more, dark _prana_ surging through her and igniting a new hellish column into the crimson heavens above.

“ **Excalibur Morgan!** ”

 

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Mordred stabbed her blade into the hull of the battleship, dropping to one knee as the crimson glow of her lightning faded from the sky. Having a Noble Phantasm that hurt you when you used it was really not helpful.

She raised her head, scowling as the black pillar of her father’s power reignited against the blood-red sky. Even tainted, his radiance was unmatched, Salem’s damn dark _prana_ allowing it to shine without restraint.

Mordred had managed to avert the King of Knights’ first assault, but she didn’t know how long she could keep it up. Clarent Blood Arthur took just a bit longer to charge than Excalibur, and the Knight of Treachery’s resources were far more limited. Even Jaune’s final Command Seal, if used, would only by them so much time, especially with their adversary too far away to launch any sort of counter-attack. This was a losing battle.

Not like she hadn’t fought plenty of those.

The Knight of Rebellion gripped her stolen sword tight and clambered back to her feet. She raised her blade before her, scarlet lightning bursting out as she readied for another clash.

Suddenly, a hatch to the roof of the airship smashed open, a stream of rose petals flying out. When they reformed into their true shape, Ruby was nearing sent flying by the racing winds, only to be caught by Assassin. “Thanks.”

False Ruler leapt out on the hatch a moment later, brow crinkled with worry. “What’s your plan, Ruby?”

The red hooded huntress grinned, her silver scar shining stalwartly against the demonic shadows of their environment. She raised her hands as Assassin kept her steady.

“Hope this works,” she said, closing her eyes. “ _Trace on_.”

Her aura flared crimson, turquoise sparks lighting across her palms and shooting into the air, coalescing into short, green lines of light. They slowly floated amidst the air, pulling themselves into a long, thin spear shape.

It wasn’t fast enough though. Maybe it was Ruby’s relative inexperience in tracing or maybe it was this cursed Reality Marble fighting against her progress, but whatever weapon she was trying to forge wasn’t coming into existence nearly as fast as Archer’s had. Which normally wouldn’t have been a problem except for the beam of unholy darkness coming down to annihilate them.

The stream of sinful power rushed down the corridor of sky the Grimm had made for it, the closest to the bombardment still getting butchered by the sheer force of the surrounding shockwave. Within seconds, it was within five miles of the fleet.

“Whatever you’re doing, do it faster!” Mordred snapped, raising her sparking sword above her head and bringing it back down in a single fluid motion. “ **Clarent Blood Arthur!** ”

The surge of crimson lightning spewed forth from her blade like lava from a volcano, halting the demonic slash in midair with only a mere mile to spare. Her muscles howled in agony, both as her own electricity scarred her flesh and as she strained to hold back the force of nature that was Sword of Promised Victory.

But luckily, she held. Barely. The darkness dissipated and Mordred fell to her knees once more, panting hard. She wouldn’t be able to stop another one without a Command Seal, which she really didn’t want to waste here. She had a feeling Jaune would need it for something else.

“Done!” Ruby shouted, Assassin catching her as she tumbled to her knees. She tossed the long pole in her hands to Ruler. The robot’s eyes, normally completely stoic, widened at the sight of the object.

“This is… I can’t use…”

“Your Magic Resistance is the same as hers, isn’t it? And you have her memories?”

“Yes… but I am not…”

“You’re here, she’s not. You’ll be fine. You can save us, Penelope.”

“Would you too stop talking and do something!” Mordred screamed, another pillar of black fire already having erupted into the clouds. The Knight of Treachery hobbled to her feet, but the storm of hellish flames was already barreling towards them before she could raise Clarent.

Ruler glanced back and forth between the staff in her hands and Ruby for the barest moment before her eyes, emerald and amethyst, hardened like gemstones. The plasma blades on her back ignited and she rocketed forward, past Mordred and into the air. Soaring through the sky, she charged just ahead of the flagship and thrust forth the pole, from which’s peak unfurled… a flag?

No, it was the same flag Archer had used against Gilgamesh’s poison. But that had barely been able to hold off that squelch, what chance did it stand against the Sword of Promised—

“ **Luminosite Eternelle!** ”

All of a sudden, the darkness stopped. Not was slowed down, or held back as it had been by her, but stopped. Completely. The pillar of black fire slammed into the flagpole head on and moved no further, denied its pass by the cloth of heaven, the will of the saint. A wall of light shimmered out from the point of impact, bright but not blinding, implacable but not demanding.

Mordred would freely admit to never being a particularly religious person. She made her own way in the world, no God or gods required. And yet, looking upon the shine of heaven, illuminating even the very pits of hell with it gentle judgment, shielding the last crusade of humanity as it strove to pull the world from the edge of armageddon… if the true Excalibur was the actualization of humanity’s wishes, this power was the truth that there was _some_ higher power beside them, that fought at their side. The devil was not as daunting when they were not bereft of allies either.

The corrupted Excalibur’s blast faded, another already shooting into the sky. But it was not Mordred’s concern. Ruler would hold fast. They would not falter to the Dark-tainted Tyrant.

She turned to Ruby, who grinned at the robot girl as she shielded them again and again. “Tell the fleet to spread out. Excalibur is an Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm, not an Anti-Army, it’ll make them harder to hit.”

“Good idea,” the huntress replied. Her gaze turned to steel as she looked upon the horizon, the Grimm roaring in fury as their champion’s assault was stopped again and again. “I’ve got a plan to get to the castle.”

Mordred chuckled. She generally preferred Jaune’s battle plans, but Ruby had more than proved herself an effective strategist. And since she seemed to be slightly less mopey than she’d been for the last few days, she might as well give her a chance. After all, even if their most recent class had reinforced that she could not triumph alone, that just meant they’d kick Salem’s ass together, time limit or not.

“What do you have in mind?”


	78. The Final Calm

“Hey? You good?” Vernal demanded.

Yang panted and rose back to her feet, glancing feverishly between her Command Seals and the circular sigil Vernal had drawn on the floor of one of the _Mantle_ ’s storage holds. The kitchens hadn’t carried any chicken blood like Uncle Qrow had used for the summoning circles back on Patch but fortunately… well, not fortunately, but Raven’s remains that had made it to the ship had included enough blood to create the glyph.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I don’t feel much different. I guess, my aura feels better?”

“That’s because you aren’t setting a decent chunk of it aside for your Servant anymore,” Vernal declared. “What about you, Rider? Is the new link good?”

“Indeed!” Iskandar cheered, flexing his muscles. “This Maiden’s power is truly remarkable! I feel like Zeus himself has blessed me with strength!”

Vernal nodded. “The downside of getting a Servant and _then_ becoming a maiden is that the power link doesn’t automatically switch over from aura to the magic. Raven spent years trying to figure out a bypass to ease strain from Lancelot. Only actually got around to testing the damn thing when we summoned Hercules.”

Yang raised an eyebrow. “She told you about her plans?”

The bandit shrugged. “Some of them. I was talented, and Raven needed a decoy maiden. I already knew her big secret, so she brought me into some of her plans, shared a bit of the details,” Vernal looked blankly off at the wall. “I think… no, that’s stupid. Raven was stronger than that.”

“What?”

The young woman shook her head. “It’s nothing… but… I don’t know… she isolated herself. She cared about the tribe, doubled our size and sent the Grimm and huntsmen running for the hills. But… she never really connected to any of them. She never wanted to. I was the closest thing she had, and that was only because… because…”

“Because she needed a fall guy?” Yang guessed sullenly.

“Because she wanted me to be you.”

At this point, Yang shouldn’t have been surprised. It seemed like every other thing her mom had done had been about her somehow. Or Summer. After Haven, she’d hoped to get the chance to hash everything out with her, figure out if she could forgive all she’d done for the sake of her good intentions. Hell, the tiniest, idiotic bit in the back of her mind, the part that still hoped to somehow save her dad, wondered if they could all be a family at the end of this mess: her, dad, Raven, and Ruby. But the rest of her, the part that acknowledged the truth of the situation, knew for a fact her parents weren’t getting out alive.

Already she was half right. Raven was gone, just like Summer, just like Qrow, and soon, like her dad. Team STRQ was dead. And Team RWBY, or what was left of them, was left to pick up the pieces.

“I’m sorry,” she told Vernal.

“For what? That she left you?” the bandit snorted, trying to look cocky but failing to raise a proper smirk. “You heroic types always seem to blame yourselves for things that are none of your business.”

“I’m not… I’m not blaming myself. Not for this at least,” Yang snapped, before sighing and putting out a fireball that had sprouted in her hand. “Look, I’m sorry you had to go through all that. That’s all. It’s sympathy.”

“It’s pity,” Vernal spat. “And I don’t need it from you. I don’t need it from anyone. I was on my own before the tribe, and I’ll be fine on own now. And I’ll start by killing every Grimm in this damn Reality Marble.”

Iskandar frowned. “To avenge them? Your people?”

“Sure, why not?” the bandit yelled, the beginnings of tears pricking in her eyes. “Maybe I’ll become a hero of justice or whatever? Kill everything until I drop? We’re all about to die anyway!”

“Calm down,” Yang ordered, confused by the sudden emotional outburst. “What are you talking about?”

“You!” Vernal roared. “Always you! We were all just pawns to her! It was all about you! And I knew it, and I was fine with it! I was fine with it because I thought I was her rook. She trusted me, I know she did, and I thought she’d at least keep everyone… the strong live and the weak die… she made us strong…”

The bandit turned away from Yang and Rider, refusing to let them see her face. “I didn’t think she’d give me the power, I knew you’d be the last one in her thoughts. But I thought at least, if she had a choice, she’d try to get to me at the end.”

“Vernal…” Yang muttered, unsure how to respond.

“I told you, I don’t want your pity,” she growled. “My tribe is gone. The world’s about to end. So I’ll fight until I’m dead. And who knows? Maybe I’ll have finally been of use to someone by the end of all this.”

“You’ve been plenty useful,” Yang said, before cringed at how bad that sounded. “What I mean is you’ve helped us a ton. This ritual, the maiden power crash course, hell, we wouldn’t even have been able to contact Ironwood if you hadn’t given us Raven’s code.”

“I also tried to kill your partner at Oniyuri and helped Raven double-cross you at Haven.”

“And saved Ilia from that Arma Nuckelavee,” Yang continued. “Look, I’m not saying you’re not a bitch. Because you are. But you’re with us now, aren’t you? We’ve all lost more people than we can handle, and by the end of this, we’re probably going to lose more. So, why not at least try to get something out of this mess?”

“Because I don’t like any of you. Except maybe that sister of yours. She’s got steel in her veins.”

Yang’s heart skipped a beat. She was already kicking herself for not being able to keep everything together in time to tell Ruby about Ea. After seeing Raven she’d just… just blanked. She’d barely been able to shut down the tornado she’d accidentally summoned, with only Ruby’s efforts calming her down. But after that, Ruby had rushed off to tell everyone else about the relics and Yang hadn’t been able to get her in private again before she’d gone with Vernal to get her power link lined up.

For a moment, she was terrified that Vernal knew what Ruby was, that Raven had told her. Then she dismissed that as foolish. Raven hadn’t told _anyone_ Ea, and unless Salem had used the Relic of Knowledge to find out, she’d taken the secret to her grave.

 “Vernal of Mistral… no. Vernal of the Branwen,” Iskandar declared, his booming voice drawing the bandit to turn around and face him. “I understand your confusion. But your past, in this moment, does not matter. Though the strength to stand alone is one to be prized, it is a virtue brought about by necessity, one that will serve us all ill in this hour. If you are willing to fight beside us in this desperate hour, then you are our comrade. My army is filled with warriors who were once my opponents, whose skill and valor were not dimmed by their defeats, and shined evermore brightly after they joined the ranks of my Hetairoi. Whatever your sins, whatever your sufferings, push them aside for now. And when this war is over, and I set out to conquer this world for my own, I will be glad to have you at my side should you desire it. So do not fight this battle to kill, but to live!”

Once again, Rank A Charisma did its work. The bloodshot didn’t disappear from Vernal’s eyes, but she was able to take a breath and stand a little taller. A disbelieving chuckle racked her body. “You Servants… it’s not just the Berserkers who are insane, is it?”

“We are said to be the pinnacle of humanity,” Iskandar reminded her, grinning. “Perhaps that is a statement on our species.”

“Maybe,” Vernal conceded. “I’ll go and see if the General needs another body somewhere. You two good on your powers?”

“Fire, wind, earth, freezing,” Yang counted off on each finger. “Standard avatar of nature stuff, right?”

“Pretty much.”

Vernal strode towards the door, the battleship shuddering once again from the battle outside. Yet, before she could leave, the bandit laughed again.

“What’s so funny?” Yang inquired.

“Nothing. Just… if Raven had brought you to the tribe… maybe I would have been your sister. Or close enough. Eh, doesn’t really matter.”

She walked out into the hall before Yang could respond.

“Well, she’s an interesting one,” Iskandar remarked. He turned to Yang. “How are you doing, master? Really?”

Yang shrugged, flicking through a ball of air to an icicle to nothing in her palm. “I don’t know. I spent so much time looking for Raven, then hating her, then feeling guilty about getting her caught… and now she’s gone. And I don’t know how to feel, or even if I have time to feel it. We are in the middle of the apocalypse and all.”

“Mothers are complicated beings. Mine certainly was…” Iskandar murmured before shaking his head to continue. “But for all her faults, I still wish yours had accepted my offer back in that hospital room.”

“That would have been a time, wouldn’t it,” Yang remarked with a smirk. Her smile faded quickly however, her eyes staring blankly at her right hand, now filled with so much power. She sighed. “I’m so tired, Rider. Tired of feeling like nothing I do can save anyone. Tired of being so… angry all the time. At Kirei, at Salem, at Gilgamesh… at myself…”

Iskandar clapped her on the shoulder. “War is an exhausting effort. A glorious one, where purest of all bonds may be forged, but it is tiring to the extreme. There is a reason my armies held extravagant celebrations whenever we took a city. We needed the relief, the cooldown from the rush of battle. And hatred, well… as much power as it can give you, ultimately you will gain no strength from it. You will be drained and devoured from the inside out.”

“It’s not as if I can stop,” Yang muttered. “Kirei and Salem and Gilgamesh… I can’t let them get away with everything they’ve done.”

“Then don’t. But do not let your acknowledgment of what needs to be done, turn into an obsession, or an anchor around your neck. Down that path lies only madness.”

Yang sighed before forcing herself to her feet. “Then let’s keep off it. Thanks, big guy.”

“No trouble, master,” Iskandar smiled.

Yang matched his smirk and held out her fist. The King of Conquerors bumped it with a laugh.

“Now then, enough mopping,” Yang declared. “This ship’s been shaking every five seconds. I’ve got to find Ruby before hell really breaks loose.”

“Oh, she’s in the hanger.”

Yang and Iskandar whirled around to the doors. Nora stood before them, Magnhild unfurled at her side.

“Why is she in the hanger?” Yang asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Long story. We don’t have any time to spare,” Nora said rapidly, grabbing Yang and pulling her out into the hall. “Arturia and a massive Grimm horde are in our way, we need to get to Salem. Ruby’s got a strike team ready to go in the hanger to try and sneak around. We need you and Rider on the roof, so the forward assault team get moving—”

“Wait, Ruby’s leaving?” Yang shouted, her lilac eyes wide.

She broke away from Nora’s grip and dashed down the opposite hall for the main hanger bay, ignoring her friend’s calls to stop.

She needed to get to Ruby. She needed to tell her the truth before it was too late.

 

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“Is Rider still behind us?”

“No, master. He’s pulled back.”

Emerald let out a relieved sigh, sinking back in her pilot’s chair. As expected, Rider Alter had been sent after them soon after they took flight. If they hadn’t taken Watts’ upgraded ship, they would have needed another five miles of head start to stay ahead. As it was, if they hadn’t had the distance they did, they would have been elephant food. And they’d been lucky Darius had turned back when he did.

Unfortunately, the ‘why’ he turned back quickly became apparent.

“Caster, those sky beams are magic, right?”

“Yes, master,” Medea stuttered. “More magic than I’ve ever sensed… anywhere. Even among the gods.”

“She’s got the Relics up and running,” Emerald growled, cursing herself for her mistake. “That was why she grabbed the lantern before everything went to hell.”

“Apt choice of words, master.”

Emerald smacked her head into her hand. “We have to go back, don’t we?”

Medea nodded. “If Salem becomes the spirit of this world, there will be no place on Remnant where we can hide.”

“Of course,” Emerald groaned. She shook her head. They had to go back, but that didn’t mean they had to die like idiots. This was just another heist, sneaking into a place with thick, extremely lethal security, and taking the most valuable thing there. Only this time, she had a distraction.

“Alright, Salem’s attention is going to be locked onto Ruby and the others,” she reasoned. “So that means, while their killing each other, we can sneak around the back and take the Relics, stop Salem’s ritual, and maybe make ourselves stronger. Then, the Alters kill the regular Servants, or we take them out after their exhausted from fighting the Alters, and we get the Grail.”

“Which I’ll then use to kill Salem, while you’ll revive Cinder,” Caster finished, though she didn’t smile.

Emerald frowned. “Wait… you use your wish to… but that means you’ll fade. After everything’s over, you’ll go back to the Throne.”

“Yes. That is true.”

“But that’s not fair!” Emerald yelled. She hated how she sounded like a child, but she couldn’t help it. This was ridiculous. “What about your wish? Going home?”

“I already found it.” Caster dropped her hood and placed a smooth palm against Emerald cheek. She smiled softly at her friend. “The only other way would be for you to give up your wish. And I know that your loyalty to this Cinder would not permit you to do so.”

“That’s… that’s…”

Goddamnit! She’d sacrificed so much to help Cinder. She’d put everything on the line to kill Kirei to avenge her. She’d committed unforgivable sins to get a shot at bringing her back to life. She’d come too far! She couldn’t just give up!

But at the same time, she didn’t want to lose Caster. Medea was her friend. She’d stood by her more than anyone. She couldn’t just throw her under the bus!

Wait…

“There’s another way,” she grinned. “There’s a way we can both get what we want.”

Medea cocked an eyebrow. “How?”

“Ruby,” Emerald declared. “She’s this Ea, right? So, we grab her, we bring her to Gilgamesh, he uses this Anti-World thing to wipe out Salem, and we get the Grail!”

“This plan seems like it’s missing a few steps, master,” Medea remarked. “Though… I’ll admit it has some promise.”

“Darn right!”

Emerald pulled Caster into a tight hug, the spellcaster eagerly reciprocating.

“I’m not going to throw you aside, Medea,” Emerald assured her. “I’m not giving up you or Cinder. I’m going to have _everything_ I want.”

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Jaune pulled his arms away from Ren, the glow of his aura faded as he finished pumping everything he had into his friend, whose own body took on a subtle green shine.

“That’s all I can give you,” he panted. “I can keep it going for sure if I come with you though.”

“The castle is a hundred miles away, Jaune,” Ren reminded him gently. “If anything went wrong and either team was delayed, you’d be too far away from Mordred.”

Jaune sighed. “I know. I just don’t like sending you guys off on something so risky.”

“This from the guy who snuck into a huntsmen academy with no combat experience,” Ren teased lightly.

“Haha, very funny,” Jaune snarked. “If you’re making jokes, this really is the end of the world.”

Ren smirked. “It’s going to be alright, Jaune. Ozpin once told me that I’d eventually see what I could do to help in this war. This is it. I can get them there.”

Jaune grimaced as the battleship shook again, Ruler still stonewalling Saber Alter’s assault as the Grimm with ranged attacks added their own power to the bombardment. He glanced about the hanger.

With less than two hours before Salem doomed the world, they needed to get to the castle as fast as possible, a trip that took a while even if the forces of darkness weren’t standing in their way. Even if they made it to the castle in time, there was no guarantee that they’d be able to take out all four Relics, not with the guard they were sure to have. But there would only be _one_ Caster.

Thus, they’d decided to split into two teams: stealth and forward assault. The stealth team was piling into a bullhead before him: Ruby, Assassin, Blake, Lancer, and Winter. Their job was to use Ren’s semblance to sneak around the Grimm horde, infiltrate the castle, find Caster as quickly as possible, and kill her, thus allowing their own Servants to finish the war, get the Grail and wish Salem out of existence. Between Lancer’s Gae Dearg and Assassin’s Origin Rounds, it wouldn’t be too hard if they could track the witch down.

Meanwhile, the forward assault team would do as their name implied, pile into Rider’s chariot, hide behind Ruler’s flag (and the two spares a him boosted Ruby had made for when the current trace inevitably broke), and race down the open corridor the Grimm had made for Excalibur Morgan, with the rest of the Atlas fleet handling the cannon fodder. Even if things went wrong and they couldn’t make it in time, they’d at least be able to make sure that Salem’s attention stayed on them and not the stealth team.

Jaune wasn’t sure about splitting up, not after what nearly happened at Haven, but the fact was they didn’t have much of a choice. If they got tied down at the front, the Relics would have finished their job by the time they got to the castle.

He pulled Ren into a tight hug. “Be safe. Okay?”

His teammate fully reciprocated, squeezing him tighter. “You too, Jaune.”

A vision of his mom flashed through his mind, wreathed in shadows and covered in hellish fire.

“I’ll do my best. I’ll look after Nora too. Or more likely she’ll look after me.”

“Look after each other.”

They pulled away from each other and Ren trudged into the bullhead, Winter just finishing the final calibrations on the ship. Ilia spoke with Blake and Lancer off to the side, while Assassin just slouched against the landing ramp eyeing everyone, a bandolier of dust grenades he’d pilfered from the armory around his waist. Mordred was up top covering Ruler in case anything went wrong, and Nora had gone to find Yang and Rider after she’d said her good luck to Ren. It’d been a pretty normal Nora fast talk, if a lot more worried than usual, until Ren had silenced her with a kiss. It’d been _really_ awkward to remind them they were on a time crunch after that.

Ruby shuffled up to his side. They both gazed over the friends and allies, the sky outside the hanger blazing with explosions from missiles and fire breath against the crimson firmament.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Jaune mused. “The end of the line. Everything we’ve lost, everything we’ve ever done since before we even knew about the war, since before we even bumped into each other at Beacon, it’s all been building up to this.”

“Nope.”

Jaune cocked an eyebrow. “What? The end of the world not enough for you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Ruby explained. “If we lose and the world ends then yeah, that’s it. This was what everything was for and we flubbed it. But if we win… life goes on.”

“Yeah, Mordred mentioned that,” Jaune chuckled. “Pointed out how the world isn’t going to magically fix every problem just because Salem’s dead. Wondered if I wanted to be king of the world after everything.”

Ruby smirked. “You could do it.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. There’d probably be few years of disaster, you’ll need time to figure it out, but only two famines, three max—”

“Oh haha,” Jaune rolled his eyes. “What about you? What’ll you do in the brave new world?”

Ruby shrugged. “There’ll still be Grimm, at least for a while. The kingdoms will speed up expansion once they figure out there’s fewer than before, and that’ll mean huntsmen will still be needed, at least for a bit. I’ll head back to Beacon, get my license, and do the job.”

“You still want to be a huntsman? After all this?”

“Don’t you?”

Yes. As much pain as it had brought him, as many friends as he’d lost on his journey, he couldn’t imagine himself on any other path.

Ruby took his silence for what it was. “I get what you’re saying though. A break would be nice before jumping back into everything. First thing I’m gonna do when this is all over is eat a whole jar of cookies.”

“Chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin?”

“Both, obviously.”

“Really?” Jaune said. “Wouldn’t have figured you for liking oatmeal raisin.”

“They get a bad rap, but I don’t discriminate when it comes to cookies. They’re all delicious,” Ruby declared. She elbowed him in the side. “What about you? What’s your ‘save the world’ treat to yourself?”

“I dunno. A date maybe?”

“A date?” Ruby smirked. “Jaune Arc, did you meet a secret sweetheart in Mistral you didn’t tell me about?”

“Nah, that was all family drama,” Jaune waved off. “But after Pyrrha, and everything, I think I want to try it. You know? Hop on the CCT and get on one of those dating sites?”

“Dating sites? Seriously? No way,” Ruby shook her head. “You won’t get anywhere on those. Dad was trying for years and got nothing. You need to date someone you already know.”

“Like who?” Jaune chuckled. “Nora’s taken, I’m not touching Blake’s love life with a ten-foot pole, and even if we save Weiss her feelings on me are clear and I respect that. So unless you want me to date your sister, we might be out of options there.”

“Hmm… maybe one the girls we knew at Beacon? Velvet? Coco?” Ruby suggested, stroking her chin. “Nah. We don’t even know where they are now. Darn, guess you’re stuck with the dating sites. Sorry.”

Jaune shrugged. “It’s alright. As long as I don’t get into another Pyrrha situation and miss the perfect girl right in front of me, I think I’ll be good, you know?”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, I think I do. Never really had an interest in guys, but that sounds like something I’d do.”

Jaune held up his fist. “To the socially awkward.”

Ruby hummed her agreement and bumped his fist.

At the foot of the bullhead, Jaune wondered if he saw Assassin snigger. Must have thought of something pretty funny to get that jerk to smile like that.

“Alright, everything’s set!” Winter called. “We leave on your mark, Ruby!”

“Good! Everyone load up!” The red hooded girl nodded and looked back over the entrance to the hanger. She frowned. “I’d hoped Yang would get here before we left.”

“You could always wait a minute,” Jaune pointed out. “She can’t be too far off.”

“But that’s a minute we might need to get to the castle,” Ruby replied sullenly, shaking her head. “Guess we already said our goodbyes in the lab. Definitely gonna need those cookies when this is over.”

“Regular and dunkers,” Jaune agreed. It was reassuring, in a way. No matter what glowing silver scars, weapon tracing magic, or ultra-pragmatic depressions she might go through, Ruby was always going to be the girl he helped up from a crater, who gave him a speech in a hallway that reassured him that he could be more than the failure he’d thought he was. His best friend.

… Huh, was there something more to that he was missing? He didn’t think so, but it felt like there could be more. Oh well. Wasn’t much time to spare anyway.

They turned towards each other and the two leaders embraced in a tight hug.

“Don’t die, Vomit Boy.”

“You too, Crater Face.”

They separated and Ruby leapt onto the bullhead. The last thing Jaune saw before the airship’s door closed was her reassuring smile and the glow of her scar. Then, the ship blasted through hanger hard light gateway and took to the skies, the hull turning completely gray as Ren activated his semblance.

Jaune let out a deep sigh. He turned to Ilia, the only person left in the room. “They’ll be okay, right?”

“Of course,” the chameleon faunus responded far too quickly. “Blake and Lancer will be fine. Completely fine. They’ll come back.”

“… And everybody else?”

“Right, them too.”

Jaune cocked an eyebrow but didn’t think any more of it. The poor girl was still suffering from Lancer’s curse. Not everyone could hold out as well as Blake had been doing. “Any word from the White Fang? This is kind of all or nothing time.”

“They’ll be here,” Ilia insisted. “Sienna’s not one to break her word and _certainly_ isn’t one to run from a fight. But there’s no CCT out here. Even the Atlas ships have to stay close to keep radio contact.”

“So they’ve only got the rendezvous we gave them,” Jaune sighed. “Great. Let’s hope they noticed the sky beam.”

All of a sudden, the door to the ship shot open and Yang rushed in, glancing about wildly. “Where’s Ruby?”

“She just left,” Jaune informed her. “Did Nora fill you in on the plan—”

“She’s gone!?” Yang shouted. “But she doesn’t know! She needs to—damnit!”

The blond brawler furiously pulled out her scroll and dialed her sister’s number, probably not realizing they were hardly in the range of any tower.

Jaune’s brow furrowed in concern. The stealth team had taken the fastest ship in the fleet, specially modified by some special mech team, Gen… something. Supposedly it was way faster than a normal bullhead, something the team would need since they were going around the massive Grimm horde. Which would also mean that the sheer density of Grimm would interfere with any radio transmission they tried to send, if the shuttle wasn’t out of range already.

That got him worried. What could be so important that Ruby needed to know that would cause Yang to freak out so much?

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Oscar growled as he hopped from a Nevermore’s talon, keeping his arms raised as the flap of the giant bird’s wings buffeted his body.

He’d been pounding at his cell wall when the explosion came. He had no idea what had caused it, but since he’d already tunneled himself halfway through the blast had handled the rest, freeing him from his imprisonment. But when he’d seen some blond guy plummet down into the middle of the dungeon spewing blond and missing an arm, he couldn’t exactly leave him to whatever Salem had in store for him. Even if, in hindsight, the mountain of pillows he’d spawned beneath him had been a pretty obvious give away that he was a Servant.

Fortunately, whatever crumpled and wrecked armor he’d been wearing had dissipated into gold dust shortly after he’d thrown him over his shoulder because the guy was hard enough to lug out of there without another hundred pounds of broken metal on top… wait… golden armor…

Shit, he’d just saved Gilgamesh, didn’t he? Ruby and Jaune were going to kill him.

He should have dropped him as soon as he realized who he was. This was the guy who’d started the Grail War, who’d killed who knew how many people. But as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, four gargantuan pillars of light erupted into the air, a visceral, instinctive shockwave vibrating through Oscar’s very soul. Maybe it was memories from Ozpin or many some natural comprehension of imminent danger, but it wasn’t too hard to guess from the blank white void emerging above the castle that reality was unraveling. Which meant that Salem’s final plan was beginning. And if it did…

He had no idea if Ruby and the others were in any position to stop her, or even if they’d gotten out of Haven alive. Which meant he had to figure out to stop Salem before she remade the world.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Of course, it was not helpful when said desperate measures attracted Nevermore trying to kill them.

He tossed the King of Heroes to the side and got ready for a fight, darting between the Grimm’s incoming beaks and talons. Ozpin’s muscle memory had long been accepted by his body, and he’d had enough practice against fair scarier monsters than three birds. Unfortunately, he was also without a weapon, which meant he was stuck dodging claws by the skin of his teeth and trying to keep his anger as high as possible to keep the demons’ focus off of Gilgamesh. Or at least, he would be if he was a normal huntsman. But as Oz had told him when they’d first met, he was one of the only mages on the planet.

He hopped over a talon swipe and smacked his palm over a Nevermore’s head.

“ _Gehen!_ ”

 _Prana_ flooded his hand and rippled into the Nevermore like a river bursting through a dam, crushing the beast’s skull to sludge.

One down.

Oscar whipped around and flared reinforcement through his legs, leaping off the falling corpse and ramming his fist through the eye of one of the others, green lines glowing along his arm with the power he needed. The Grimm let out a final caw and crumpled to the dirt.

The final Nevermore screeched at the farm boy, perhaps furious at the death of its kin, perhaps merely irritated that the human wasn’t dead yet. It pulled its wings back and then threw them forward, a hurricane of sharpened feathers following its course.

Oscar darted back from the barrage, bobbing and weaving through the plumage storm as fast as he could. He just needed another few seconds for his muscles to cool down from his last burst of power and then he could rush in to finish the fight. He wasn’t that scared kid from Kuroyuri anymore.

Okay, he was. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him from doing what needed to be done. Everything he’d ever known, his aunt, his farm… okay, pretty much just that. But that was enough to fight for, as well as the friends he’d made along the way: Ruby, Jaune, Nora, he wouldn’t let them down!

Rather anticlimactically though, his final effort was unnecessary.

A golden portal crackled into existence above the Nevermore, blasted a dagger through its head, and then winked out of existence.

Oscar lowered his fists and narrowed his eyes. “So, finally awake I see.”

“Uugghh…” Gilgamesh groaned from where he laid in the dirt. A flickering portal, barely as large as a fist, cracked open above him, a vibrant green stalk beginning to descend before the golden gateway gave out and only snipped off a leaf, which floated down to the ground. The King of Heroes’ sole remaining arm twitched, his body shifting by the barest margin. At last, after his struggles got him not closer to the leaf, he sighed.

“Mongrel, fetch me that herb,” he demanded. “It would seem every bone in my body has been broken.”

Oscar blinked at the Servant, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have let me get the last one?”

“A king battles at the side of those who would defend him. He is not a damsel in need of defending.”

“Just leaf gathering.”

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes. “Your tone is entirely improper, peasant.”

“Of course,” Oscar snarked. Like the jerk or not, getting him on his side would be helpful. The young mage snatched up the leaf from the ground and marched over to the fallen king, kneeling at his side. “Now what?”

“Tear off a piece and put it in my mouth,” Gilgamesh instructed. “It shall not heal me instantly, but it will speed up my recovery.”

“Why not just down the whole thing? If this thing is supposed to heal you and a piece will speed it up, wouldn’t all of it do instantly.”

Gilgamesh glared at the boy. “That is the Herb of Immortality, boy. Devouring a fraction of its power would begin resetting my body back to its past gloriousness but consuming the entire thing would revert me into a child.”

“And the difference would be?”

“The difference is that my child form, though as radiant and glorious as all of my visage, has substantially less magical energy at its disposal. And in this accursed cesspit, that would be an intolerable handicap.”

Oscar shrugged. “Fair enough.”

He tore off a thin strip of the leaf, and pawned it into Gilgamesh’s mouth. The king feverishly chewed the herb. Once he swallowed, a soft subtle glow, white instead of his usual opulent gold, glittered across his body. The Servant leaned to his right side, funneling the glow towards his absent arm. The light swam over the empty air, shifting and compounding until it took on the form of solid flesh.

“Cool trick,” Oscar remarked, just barely managing to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head.

Gilgamesh scowled. “It is not a trick.”

The golden king slowly stumbled to his feet, hissing all the way at the creak of his bones. When Oscar offered a hand, the Servant had quite blatantly ignored it.

“Guess the King of Heroes doesn’t need help,” the boy noted.

“Help is for those who wish to be betrayed by such false assistance,” Gilgamesh snarled, glaring towards Salem’s castle in the distance. “And wish to repay such affronts tenfold.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Oscar protested, running to the king’s front before he could make a mad charge at the fortress. He put his hand on the golden man’s blood-soaked white shirt to halt him. “I didn’t pull you out of that dungeon just so you could go charging back in and die.”

Gilgamesh glared at the hand on his person. “It is only because of that favor that you still breathe, mongrel. Remove your hand from my wonderous visage, _now_.”

Gulping at the reminder that he was dealing with one of the most powerful beings on the planet with a _very_ thin temper, Oscar did just that. But he didn’t move.

“Look, see those lights? They mean that Salem’s an hour and a half away from overwriting the entire planet. Even assuming that somehow, you, barely standing, I’m guessing without a master, and, until a few moments ago, left-handed, can fight your way past all the Alters, you can’t kill her.”

“I don’t need to kill her,” Gilgamesh growled. “I just need to find that traitorous snake Kirei and _tear him apart_ until he recants his despicable lie and tells me where Ea is. Then, I will wipe this horrific eyesore of the face of this beautiful world.”

Oscar’s brow narrowed in thought. Yes, that could work, but… could he do it?

He’d have to.

“Ea is your Noble Phantasm,” he spoke slowly. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. “That means you two share a mystical bond with each other, right?”

“Of course,” Gilgamesh snorted. “Second only to that between myself and my greatest treasure.”

Oscar nodded. “Then I think I can get it back to you.”

“What?!” The King of Heroes gripped Oscar around the collar of his shirt and hoisted him into the air. “Do not play games with me, mongrel! If you know where my treasure is, you will tell me now before I bury you in this hell!”

“I don’t know where it is!” Oscar desperately clarified. “But I think I can bring you to it. Or it to you, that might shave off some of the construction time. There’s a teleportation spell Ozpin used once. It transported five people across a continent through the link between Excalibur and Avalon, maybe it can do the same with your sword!”

Gilgamesh glared at him for another few seconds before setting him down. “Perform this spell. Immediately.”

“I can’t,” Oscar revealed. “It takes a bit to put together and we’re too close to the castle. If those Nevermores found us, then someone stronger is probably not too far away.”

“A king does not run from battle.”

“It’s not running,” Oscar sighed, exasperated. “It’s relocating to a better position. Not a retreat, just a flanking. One you need to do if we’re going to have any chance at getting your sword back before Salem turns us all into psychos. That alright, _your majesty_?”

Gilgamesh sneered. “You really must improve that attitude, boy. It is unbefitting the address of a king.”

Nonetheless, he turned around. He closed his eyes and reached out his arm into the open air, furrowing his brow in concentration.

A sizable portal flared to life before him, flickering with strain, but stable. Oscar couldn’t say he’d expected what came out though.

“Aren’t you from ancient… whatever?” he pointed out. “Why do you have a motorcycle?”

Gilgamesh hissed in pain as he threw a leg over the tricked out golden motorcycle. He glared back at Oscar. “The Gil-Gil Machine is a treasure that I acquired during my early years in this world. Be honored, boy. Few have experienced the wonder of beholding it, and none have had the unrivaled privilege of riding it.”

“The Gil-Gil Machine?”

“Get. On.”

Despite himself, Oscar couldn’t help but snigger. Still, he carefully got onto the back of the bike and grabbed tight onto the lid of the seat (he didn’t think ‘his majesty’ would appreciate physical contact after the hand thing). As soon as he was secure, Gilgamesh put the pedal to the meddle and tore off through the black hills of the Grimmlands, Salem’s castle getting just a bit smaller behind them.

Though he did his best to hide it, Oscar was worried. It had taken Ozpin days to create and charge the glyphs for the spell last time. He would have an hour and a half, tops. Not to mention, the Grimmlands’ resistance to reality distortion wouldn’t make teleportation any easier. He’d have to beseech the king for some magical artifacts from his treasury like the ones Ruby had reported had been used for the war jumpstart ritual. And that was all assuming Salem’s pursuers didn’t catch up to them.

It wasn’t hopeless. He only had to pull in one weapon instead of sending out five people. And Ozpin had had to take periodic breaks as his control time over Oscar’s body ran out, and the farm boy was pretty sure he’d messed some stuff up the wizard had been forced to fix before moving on.

But Ozpin wasn’t here anymore. There was no more safety net. It was literally doomsday. Gilgamesh and Ea were the only things short of the Grail that they knew would be able to kill Salem. Despite the obvious consequences, Oscar couldn’t see another option.

He had to do what he could.


	79. Allies and Resolve

“You sure you don’t know what it is?”

“Positive,” Kiritsugu confirmed. “I’ve never even heard of such a skill, let alone do I have one.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “So is my analysis wrong? _Can_ it be wrong?”

Her grandfather shook his head. “No. It might miss something, but being flat out incorrect? That’s impossible. And it would explain why Archer’s Gae Bolg didn’t kill me at Haven.”

Ruby scowled. She stood in the back of the cockpit with her grandfather, while Winter and Ren sat upfront, Blake and Lancer having retreated to the aircraft’s hold.

The stealth team had been in the air for a few minutes, Winter expertly piloting them around the southern flank of the horde of Grimm, Ren’s boosted semblance hiding their ship from their enemies’ senses while the constant fire and negativity from the Atlas fleet drew them towards the forward assault team. Already the cloud of black demons had completely obscured their allies, only a few stray bullheads visible from their position.

Given that they were literally diving into the heart of hell, Ruby had thought it best to do one last overview of their weapons before they’d left the _Mantle_ , getting a copy of each of her friends’ weapons in her fractured Unlimited Bladeworks. Which, left her confused when Kiritsugu’s Contender had revealed a powerful skill she hadn’t heard of before. One that, upon closer examination, could prove quite troublesome if the others found out about it.

Affections of the Holy Grail. A skill capable of skyrocketing Assassin’s Luck to Rank EX, increasing the odds of what he needs to happen and even enabling some rather absurd feats. It wouldn’t get him out of everything, all luck ran out eventually, but it was one hell of a boost. The only downside was that in order to provide such fortune, it robbed those around him of theirs. Ruby couldn’t help but compare it to Uncle Qrow’s semblance, really useful against enemies, but not good to have around allies.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked her grandfather.

Kiritsugu nodded. “I am. Lancer and I are already less than compatible as a team, and this will just make it worse, especially with his Luck already so low. I’ll break off from you all once we reach the castle, make for another of the Relic points, try to find Caster—”

“You’re going after Kirei,” Ruby interrupted. When he didn’t deny it, she continued. “He’s probably somewhere inside there. Gilgamesh wouldn’t likely give Salem the Relic of Knowledge, so he probably had a hand in it.”

“Most definitely,” Kiritsugu confirmed.

“So why are you going after him?” Ruby demanded, glaring at her Servant.

“Why? Do you want to be the one to kill him?”

“I don’t care who kills him,” Ruby declared. “I meant what I said at Haven. He doesn’t matter in the fight for the Grail, Caster does. Would him dying make it easier? Very much so. But that doesn’t mean I want you going off to settle a blood feud.”

Kiritsugu smirked, pride in her filling his dark eyes. “That’s a good thing to confirm. But you have nothing to worry about. Me splitting off will primarily allow us to cover more ground and hopefully takes care of Caster and/or the Relics in time to stop Salem. I’m not going to go looking for Kirei. I just doubt I won’t run into him. Fate is rarely so kind.”

“He is kind of obsessed with you,” Ruby conceded.

“And you,” Kiritsugu added. “He’s going to be coming for us both. And of the two of us, I’m the one who’s already beaten him in a fight, when I was far weaker at that.”

“Won the fight, lost the war.”

Assassin flinched. “I’ll try to avoid that this time. But either way, I’d rather end him before he gets a crack at you, or at least weaken him so you can crush him.”

“Is that why you think you’re here?” Ruby inquired. “Just to give me a leg up? Those speeches about having hope for tomorrow… those were just for me?”

“My tomorrow came and went long ago,” Kiritsugu told her. “I would love to stay here in this world with you, but that is not in the cards.”

“Something could come along like you said. The Relic of Creation can make new bodies.”

“If Salem hasn’t had enough time to construct another Servant vessel during the period she’s had the Relic, I don’t think we could do it in the half-hour we might have,” he countered. “I love you, Ruby. But I made my bed long ago, and horrible as it may be, I have no issue with laying in it. I’m going to do all I can to help you, so you can do what you can to help this world I set down the path of devastation. And then, when you all are on the course for a brighter future, I will return to my penance.”

Ruby frowned. “Okay.” She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t see any alternative. “But don’t go into it looking to die.”

“I never have to go looking for death. It has a habit of following me.”

“Don’t make me use a Command Seal on you.”

“That would be unwise. You only have one left.”

“You know what I mean,” Ruby snorted. She pulled Assassin into a tight hug, his arms hesitating a moment before closing around her. Just like Archer. “He wants to destroy you. He wants to destroy everything about you.”

“He’ll have a harder time than he’s expecting,” Kiritsugu whispered. “After all this time, I think I’ve finally figured a bit of him out. Besides, no one’s ever been better at destroying me than myself.”

“Maybe,” Ruby conceded.

“Ruby!” Winter called. She and Kiritsugu separated and strode upfront, the specialist fiddling with the dashboard. “There’s an incoming message from the _Mantle_.”

“ _Ruby… can you hear… it’s me… Ruby… respond…_ ”

“That’s definitely Yang,” Ruby observed, recognizing her sister’s voice despite the static. “Why’s it so garbled?”

“There’s no CCT out here,” Winter explained. “The fleet’s using short-range radio to communicate, but with all the Grimm between us and them, we’ve barely got a signal. I’m amazed anything is getting through.”

“Yang!” Ruby shouted into the receiver. “Yang, I can barely hear you! What is it? Is something wrong back there?”

“ _Ruby! Listen… Ea… You… Ea… Mom… made… your eyes—”_

“What?” Ruby exclaimed, her eyes going wide at the mention of the Sword of Rupture. “Yang, what about Ea? Do you know where it is? Yang? Yang?! Damnit! Can we get her back?”

“Not if we don’t turn back,” Winter informed her. “And considering we’re on a time limit as it is…”

“That’s not an option,” Kiritsugu finished. “Even assuming the forward assault team isn’t already on their way, doubling back would waste precious minutes both on Ren’s semblance and Salem’s plan.”

“But she was talking about Ea, and mom,” Ruby muttered, furrowing her brow. “Did she figure out where she and Raven hid it? If we could get our hands on it—”

“It’d be as useless to us as it was to them without Gilgamesh,” Kiritsugu reminded her. “And considering Salem now holds the Relic of Knowledge, there is no telling if he’s even still alive. Our surest bet is to stay the course. If everyone sticks to their roles… well, it may be the best chance we have.”

Ruby scowled. Her eyes flickered over to Ren, whose eyes were squeezed shut as his fingers tightened around the dashboard. All over, his semblance coated everything and everyone within the ship with a gray hue, suppressing and hiding their emotions. That they were still being as emotive as they were was a sign of how dire the situation truly was.

As was the bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

“Alright, we’ll keep going,” Ruby relented. “But in the meantime, tell me exactly what you think you’ve figured out about Kirei.”

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

 

Mordred narrowed her eyes as an incoming swarm of Sphinxes plummeted from the sky, errant bolts of lightning streaking out from the Gordius Wheel to disintegrate any Grimm that got past the splinter runoff of Saber Alter’s assault. She held Clarent tight in her hands, ready to defend Jaune, Yang, and Lady Nora. The three of them certainly couldn’t handle it themselves at the moment, what with the Team JNPR pair having been present for Yang’s attempt to contact her sister from the ship. Jaune’s eyes in particular were still glassed over like gemstones.

Mordred couldn’t really blame him. Finding out your best friend was unknowingly the sentient world-destroying sword of one of your worst enemies was quite the revelation, even for their crazy lives. It certainly made some sense, explaining why Ruby’s silver eyes were harmful for her to use at full power when the trait hadn’t been for others. Ea was using the trait gained from Summer as a channel for its own strength, and when it poured on the energy to its higher settings, it escaped the self-imposed limitation of only harming Grimm, Servants, or maidens.

She probably should have been feeling betrayed, at Ruby’s condition or Yang from keeping it from the rest of them, but at the moment they had bigger things to worry about. Ruby hadn’t known and Yang had been through enough in the last few weeks that hesitation on such a matter was understandable, if tremendously unhelpful. Getting angry at either of the sisters wouldn’t stop armageddon.

The light at the head of the chariot suddenly flickered out, False Ruler stumbling back in the air on her plasma wings, the shattered remains of her staff fading into turquoise sparks as the projection failed. Mordred reached behind Rider’s feet and tossed the robot the first of Ruby’s reserve flags, the artificial Servant catching and unfurling the holy banner just in time to block the next surge of hellish energy.

The Knight of Rebellion frowned. The first flag had gotten them about a third of the way to the castle, and that was in addition to holding off the blasts while the group had been splitting up. The remaining two should have been enough to last them the rest of the journey, but that did not change the fact that even with the horde of Grimm focused on the Atlas ships behind them, they would hardly be out of the woods.

The events of the first Luminosite Eternelle shattering and Mordred tossing False Ruler a replacement had all transpired in less than a second, and even then, they’d barely been in time to stop the next assault. Excalibur Morgan was not only more powerful than Mordred’s Noble Phantasm at close range, but its activation time was quicker, though not as fast as Strike Air. Since it was entirely plausible that the King of Knights would not be alone on the other side, she needed to be prepared to face her alone, while the others dealt with their own tasks.

An idea that was highly unappealing. As much she claimed it as her own victory, Mordred was fully aware that she had only achieved a mutual kill with her father at Camlann due to Morgana’s machinations. One on one, she had never actually defeated the King of Knights in combat, and if their previous duel at the White Fang HQ was any indication, she’d even more resilient now that she’d been blackened. If she was going to win this, she couldn’t fight as she had in the past. She had to be more, do more. Excalibur was secured at her side, Avalon was where she hoped it would do the most good if necessary, and Clarent was as sharp as ever, but she still felt it wasn’t enough.

She wasn’t alone anymore, she knew that. Jaune would be by her side, but unless he used his final Command Seal… no, if Crocea Mors was capable of what she suspected it was, he’d need that to jump start it. No, in pure power, the both of them were at their limit for the moment.

Which meant the key to victory would be in how they used that power. Mordred wasn’t one for planning ahead, but she hadn’t been blind to her master’s work over the course of the war. He wasn’t some grand strategist, who planned out every move that would be made on the battlefield, but he was adept at observing his available resources and the vulnerabilities of his enemies to figure out what tactics would maximize his chance for success. He was like a boxer, rolling with the punches, remembering every blow thrown and deciding which ones he could weaponize himself.

A smirk rose to the Knight of Rebellion’s face. She wasn’t much for thinking, but if she had to choose, she thought she could handle that.

 

* * *

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****

Kirei smirked as Salem’s black tentacle squirmed off his arm, leaving a single dark Command Seal in its wake. He had to admit, after so many years bearing a menagerie of the marks, their absence had been a tad disconcerting. Now, he had nothing to worry about.

“Magnificent. You say this belonged to Arthur Watts?”

“Indeed,” Salem confirmed. “Like the unused seals of the old wars were entrusted to the Overseer, my power shall always return to me if its wielders fail to make use of it. It’s a shame, really. Arthur was so looking forward to seeing the new world. After all he and Tyrian went through in the last war, I’d hoped they’d get to see the fruits of their labor.”

“They would be pleased to know their efforts have not gone to waste,” Kirei assured her. “Though, that is only if we emerge victorious.”

Salem chuckled. “You think our enemies may defeat us? Despite their disadvantage?”

“I’ve learned it to be unwise to underestimate any Hero of Justice.”

“Indeed,” Salem conceded, her lips curling into a snarl. “Humanity is quite the force to be reckoned with when they stand united. Servants, even more so. And Kiritsugu Emiya… Rider will be back soon enough, but I believe we should take… further precautions.”

She strode over to a wide pool of black mud at the center of the small hexagonal chamber, the Relic of Destruction hovering a few feet above the hellish pit. The blackened majestic blade pulsed with unearthly power as it fired a beam of light that was at once white, and yet every color the eye could conceive all at once into the sky.

Kirei cocked an eyebrow at the black sludge below. “You want me to become an Alter?”

“Why not? It would happen anyway once we reach the new world,” Salem pointed out.

“True,” Kirei conceded. “I suppose the more proper question would be ‘why’? I’m hardly a paragon of virtue as I am. I can’t imagine myself becoming even more of a monster under your direct influence.”

“Think of it as an upgrade. You mean to confront Kiritsugu Emiya, do you not?” Salem asked. Once he nodded, she smiled. “You will not be able to face him as you are now. The two of you may have been evenly matched in your last battle, but he is a Servant now. Even with aura, you are grossly outmatched.”

Kirei’s jaw clenched. He recalled how Kiritsugu had made for him once he was freed at Haven. In the blink of an eye, he’d lost the Contender. If it hadn’t been for Gilgamesh, he would have been dead before he could take his next breath. Thanks to his Time Alter, Assassin could move at absurd speeds even by the standards of Heroic Spirits. Granted, his training had enabled him to compensate for a similar human agility advantage in their first duel, but that would not help now unless he somehow became a Servant himself, which was outrageous to even contemplate. He was a demon as black and wicked as the deepest pit of hell, a sinner of the most twisted depravity. To suggest that a monster such as him would ever be entombed in the celestial light of the Throne of Heroes was lunacy.

“Simply becoming an Alter will not be enough to challenge the Mage Killer as he is now,” he murmured. “To do that… I will need to do the impossible.”

Salem grinned. “This is the Holy Grail War, Kirei. There is no such thing as impossible.”

The Queen flicked her wrist upward. Rising from the mud pit was a whirling mass of… something. No, it was a body, a vaguely human shape comprised of the black sludge, floating up from the languishing sin below. It halted when the Mother of Grimm held out her hand.

“This was a body I had been preparing with the Relic of Creation,” Salem explained. “I had planned for it to be the vessel for another Servant, but alas, events transpired to deny me the necessary time. If the accumulated legend was placed into this form, it would take regeneration far beyond even my abilities to keep it intact.”

Dark flakes of the mud epidermis crumbled away. Kirei cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

“Indeed. Though if one without the weight of history were to be placed within it…”

Kirei’s eyes widened. “What you speak of approaches the Third Magic. To transfer a soul from one body to another… can it be done?”

“The Holy Grail itself utilizes a variation of Heaven’s Feel. I studied well during my imprisonment within the chalice,” Salem declared. “I can give you the body, and it may provide enough of a base for the rest of your abilities to keep you in the battle. However, its imperfection means you will not last long once you enter it and even if you choose to use it, I will need to directly supply you with power to keep it performing at maximum efficiency. Your odds will not be good.”

“I do not need good odds. Just a chance,” Kirei smirked. “Though, you speak as if I will not be facing him alone.”

The Queen of the Grimm grinned. “You are not the only one with a score to settle with the Mage Killer. However, the choice is yours. Say the word, and the battle is yours. I will not intervene.”

Kirei frowned. He couldn’t dispute that All the World’s Evils had ample grievance with Kiritsugu, but he had looked forward to confronting the Hero of Justice himself. To enter the battle with aid was… irritating. This had all began with their war, and he had dreamt of confronting him again ever since. To do so with more than his own power seemed to sully the proceedings. Even putting that aside, the offered body would not last long. If their approaching foes destroyed too many of the Relics and delayed the coming new genesis, he would expire before he could see the new world. The world where he would not be a monster.

The idea of confronting his nemesis in less than a pure battle… it caused the ache, the impurity, that polluted even his blackest joy to throb.  If he did this, he would not have all he wanted. Could he bear it? He would have his duel, perhaps even survive to enjoy his exquisite final confrontation with Ruby, but it would not be what he’d dreamt of.

But then, where would be the suffering, the joy, if he faced Kiritsugu as he was and was slain before he could bat an eye? Did he not owe his nemesis suffering before he slew him and ascended to the new world, the world where he was no longer a monster?

His insides blazed with fury, but there really was only one option, one way to get at least something out of this, some joy. That didn’t mean it didn’t sicken him to his sinful, demonic core to do it.

He scowled and leapt into the mud.

 

* * *

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_“Lancer?”_

_“Yes, Lady Ilia?” Diarmuid turned to face the chameleon girl who’d been with him since he was summoned all those months ago. She stood before in at the side of the corridor, her face red as she looked down to the floor, her hands clutched over her chest. “I’m sorry, but we don’t know when Specialist Schnee will have the stealth team’s ship ready. Is there any way—”_

_“Yes, sorry, I’ll speed it up,” Ilia stuttered. “I just wanted to tell… to tell you… Adam would be proud.”_

_Lancer frowned, recalling the files lent to him by Specialist Schnee. “Would he?”_

_“Of course!” Ilia assured him, finally looking him in the eye. “You’re fighting for the freedom of the faunus! To avenge him!”_

_“Thank you, my lady,” Diarmuid replied. “But I’m not sure if I can do so in a way he’d approve of.”_

_“You can!” Ilia insisted, taking a sizable step towards him. “Lancer, it doesn’t matter how you do it, just that you do. And you can. Adam believed it. Blake believes it. And I… I…”_

_She rushed forward, her hands reaching up to the knight’s cheeks to tug down his head, her lips rising to—No!_

_Lancer caught her shoulders. “My lady, please. Don’t.”_

_Ilia’s eyes widened and she pulled back, coughing awkwardly into her hand. “Right, curse. Sorry.”_

_“You have nothing to be sorry for. The fault is mine,” Diarmuid replied. He looked down in shame. “It has always been mine.”_

_“Don’t say that!” Ilia commanded. “You are more capable than you think you are, Diarmuid. By the end of this war, you will claim the Holy Grail and honor Adam’s dream.”_

 

* * *

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****

Lancer frowned as he recalled the moment on the battleship. Lady Blake had arrived soon after and they’d made their way to the hanger. Now they’d been flying for nearly an hour, both their ship and their bodies gray from Ren’s semblance.

However, despite the emotional suppression, Diarmuid found his thoughts clouded with uncertainty. Despite Ilia’s words, he did not know if his fallen master would have had faith in him if their association had continued. He’d read the files Winter had sent him, and they did not match with the noble freedom fighter he’d thought his lord to be. The actions of a righteous rebellion and a ruthless terrorist were often distinguishable only by perspective, but there were certain lines that could not be crossed without the loss of moral high ground. Coerced into attacking Beacon he may have been, Adam’s slaughter of civilians in other raids had cast a shadow over the man he’d thought he’d known.

Yet, the bad did not erase the good, nor the good the bad. His master had followed Lady Blake to protect her when he’d thought she was being used and had given his life to save them all, to ensure that his dream would be fulfilled.

But if Adam had not been the pure man he’d thought him to be, did that mean his dream was not either? And even if it was, what despicable acts would he have demanded of his Servant had he lived? What would the White Fang demand to see that dream through now? Would he be correct to refuse them?

“Lancer?” Blake asked, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

The Irishman sighed. “I do not know, master.”

“Is it Ren’s semblance? Don’t worry. We’re nearly there and he just has to hold out a little longer—”

“No, it’s not that,” Lancer cut her off. He paused for a moment, ashamed to have interrupted her, before he turned to face the cat faunus. “Master, why did you leave the White Fang? From what Master Adam told me, it was because you came to believe their actions no longer honored the dream you believed in, but… I do not wish to be ill-informed by intaking only one opinion.”

“Oh. Well… it wasn’t something that happened overnight,” Blake explained, looking away ashamed. “My parents founded the White Fang, as it was originally. It sought to improve Faunus Rights across Remnant through peaceful protest, but after that yielded nothing for years, Sienna’s views of showing humanity we couldn’t be ignored began to gain popularity. I sided with her, I thought it was the only way to get something done. But… then it went wrong. Or it was always wrong, and I just hadn’t wanted to see it. We attacked shops that wouldn’t serve us, robbed the SDC when they abused their laborers, and I was able to justify that to myself. It needed to be done, it was just property, others needed more… but as time went on, I started seeing what we would do to the people who tried to stop us. What Adam did.”

Lancer clutched his hands tightly. “How many?”

“Armed Security? I lost track. Civilians… too many.”

Lancer scowled. Once again, he’d put his master on a pedestal and they’d proved to be less than so. It seemed to get worse the more he got. Fionn, at least, did what he only out of momentary anger and regretted the deed. Kayneth had been cruel, but he had not been completely heartless. His love for Sola-ui had been genuine at least. And Adam…

“Am I always doomed to fight for those who do not share my beliefs?” he murmured. “Is it that I truly am so useless?”

“What?!” Blake squawked, her amber eyes widening. She picked his head up to look at him head-on. “Lancer, the Adam I knew when I left the White Fang was a monster, spite incarnate. He never would have forgiven me enough to save my life, and he certainly would never have sacrificed himself for the greater good. I don’t think he believed in you in the beginning but by the end… by the end, you did _something_ to him. Something good.”

“And now he’s dead,” Diarmuid pointed out. “Even if I helped him find this better path you believe he found, what is the point if it killed him in the end?”

Blake steeled her face. “Adam may be dead, but his dream, the original dream of the White Fang, for true equality, lives on. Through everyone who lives, through everyone who fights. When I first met Ruby, I told her life wasn’t like a fairy tale, that the real world is harsh and cruel. And she reminded me why we do this. ‘To make it better.’”

“How?” Lancer asked. “My methods have done nothing, and Assassin’s are just as useless in the end. What other way could there be to stop Salem, to change the world?”

“Something in between,” Blake insisted, her cheeks red. “I don’t know how much is too far, or not far enough, but we’ll find something. Diarmuid, don’t… don’t lose hope yet.”

Lancer cocked an eyebrow at seeing color in her face, distracted enough so that he didn’t catch her pressing her lips forward until they’d already touched his own. It didn’t last long, however. Though pleasant, he instantly gripped her shoulders and pulled her back. “My lady—”

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that,” Blake piped up, her head low. “I know it’s a curse, I know they might not be real, but with everything that’s been going with Weiss, and Yang, and Ruby, they’re the _only_ positive feelings I’ve had since Sun and Adam—”

“Exactly, feelings, my lady, emotions,” Lancer cut in. “You _felt_ emotion.”

Blake raised an eyebrow in confusion, only for her eyes to widen in horror. She glanced down at her hand and then up at the wall of the cargo hold, neither showing the slightest hint of gray.

The both of them dashed up to the cockpit. Ren was folded over by the side of his chair, panting hard, Ruby holding onto to his shoulders. Winter scowled as she pulled the ship hard to the left, cursing under her breath. Assassin glared out the window, both his guns in his hands.

Lady Blake dashed over to Ruby and Ren, helping sit the pink-eyed huntsmen against the side of his chair. “Ren, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though the cough that followed his statement indicated otherwise. “I just… need a few… seconds…”

“You’ve been running your semblance for an hour straight,” Ruby reminded him. “It’ll take more than a few minutes to recover your aura.” She looked back to Winter. “How close are we to the castle?”

“Not close enough,” Winter hissed. “We’ve got bogies inbound. The radar shows incoming coming from the North, the East, and… the South? How’d they get to the other side?”

Diarmuid narrowed his eyes and glanced out the window. Already, a substantial flock of the titanic horde of Grimm occupying the sky had separated from the main group and started racing for their lone bullhead. Griffons, Nevermore, a few Sphinxes, even a Wyvern roared as their enemy made for their newly exposed vessel.

“You’ve kept your power suppressed?” Assassin asked him.

“Of course,” he responded. “But in Salem’s own world, I doubt it’s done much.”

“True. Nothing short of Presence Concealment will shield you completely,” Assassin stated. “But with any luck, she might mistake you for a huntsman long enough for us to escape—”

“Incoming!” Winter roared, sending the ship into a steep dive.

The Wyvern opened its gaping maw, a raging fireball building up within its fangs. The orb of flames rocketed towards their ship, Even still, Winter’s evasive maneuvers probably would have been able to dodge it.

At least, the surrounding Sphinxes hadn’t also unleashed a hail of firebolts.

Lancer flashed over and held the young huntsmen steady as the bullhead shook from the barrage, its shields quickly being battered down, scowling. If he or Assassin went out there, they could easily deal with the Grimm, but their power would reveal them to Salem, who could then move to counter them before they reached the castle. They were so close. They just needed a bit more time—

“ _This is Fort Castle hailing Atlas Bullhead. Fort Castle hailing Atlas Bullhead. Atlas Bullhead, do you read?_ ”

Lancer’s eyes widened just as Blake’s did. They both recognized that voice.

“She came,” Blake whispered, a relieved smile rising to her face.

Winter raised an eyebrow but quickly clicked the respond button on the radio. “ _Fort Castle_ , I don’t know who you are, but this is _Strider-G_ of the Atlas Military requesting urgent assistance—”

“ _Assistance? Ha! Never thought I’d hear an Atlesian ask that of me,_ ” the other voice laughed before taking on a far more commanding tone. “ _Pull South. We’ll cover you._ ”

“South? You’re—” Winter shook her head and pulled the controls, rearing the ship that way. “On our way.”

The bullhead peeled through the sky, the swarm of Grimm chasing right behind them. For half a minute, it seemed they’d shift their course for nothing, that they’d be overrun by the demons on their tail.

Suddenly, dozens of beaten up black bullheads appeared on the black horizon, rushing past the Atlesian ship. Bullheads with the symbol of a red wolf’s head with three claws through it, the lead ship with orange stripes painted along its front.

“The White Fang!” Blake cheered.

“ _Good to hear your voice, Blake,_ ” Sienna Khan declared jovially over the radio. “ _Sorry, we’re late. But once those sky beams went up, I figured the rendezvous was off._ ”

All as one, the ragged fleet of bullheads released a barrage of gunfire and missiles at the approaching Grimm. The black creatures returned fire, but more than a few of the Nevermore and Griffons plummeted to the ground. Even the Wyvern was struck by a missile and staggered a moment before letting out a monstrous roar, clods of spawning mud falling from its wings.

“ _Any reason you’re sneaking about?_ ” Sienna inquired.

“We need to get to the castle, undetected if at all possible,” Ruby explained. “Long story short, we need to take out one of those sky beams or the world will be over in half an hour.”

“ _Well, isn’t that spectacular,_ ” Sienna growled. _“Get going. We’ll hold them here, make as much noise as we can to draw their attention away from you. It’s been a long flight from Menagerie and there’s a lot of negativity on these ships._ ”

Ruby grinned. “I can imagine.”

“I’m transmitting the projected coordinates of General Ironwood’s task force. Miss Amitola stayed behind to make sure you were properly identified,” Winter declared, fiddling with a few dials. “If the fleet’s still alive, you can meet up with them there.”

“ _I imagine they will be. The tin man was never so awful a dance partner that he wouldn’t show up to the floor,”_ Sienna chuckled. _“Blake?”_

“Yes?” The cat faunus replied.

_“Your parents aren’t here, they didn’t believe me about the whole ‘end of the world’ thing. I suppose that’s my fault. But just in case, they gave me a message for you.”_

Blake paled, a sheet of terror drawn across her face. “What… what did they say?”

“ _That they couldn’t be more proud,_ ” Sienna earnestly declared. “ _And that they love you. Well, Kali didn’t say that in so few words, but I take it we’re short on time._ ”

Lancer smiled as he saw the tension bleed out of his master, an awkward chuckle escaping her lips. “Yeah, that sounds like mom.”

“ _They haven’t lost faith in you. And as much as your father can be an absolutely, pacifist **imbecile** sometimes, he’s usually right about individuals,_” Sienna continued, her tone dire. _“Don’t fail, Blake. All the dreams of our people, of the world, are counting on you. Stop this Grimm bitch and make a better tomorrow.”_

Blake bit her lip, but in the end, raised her head high and hardened her gaze. “I will, High Leader Khan. Don’t worry.”

“ _Glad to hear it. Now then, I have some demons to shove down an even deeper pit of hell. Good luck to you all. And Lancer, if you’re there, protect that girl with your life._ ”

Diarmuid smirked and bowed his head. “It will be done, Lady Sienna.”

“ _Good. Yuma! Give these bastards another shot up the ass!_ ”

The crackle of the radio cut off and the White Fang fleet smashed into the pursuing Grimm, an inferno of dust and fireballs erupting behind them. Several more hordes broke off from the main swarm and flew in to help the small flock put down the faunus assault.

Lancer smiled as Winter set their course back. His mind was not completely settled, but less conflicted than before.

Adam had not been the man he’d thought he was. The White Fang had not been the organization he’d thought it was. But when push came to shove, Adam had sacrificed himself for his dream, and the White Fang had kept their word and come to defend their world, all for the hope of a brighter future, where their children and their children’s children need not be judged by whether they had horns or wings or claws, but by the content of their character. Whatever else, that was a dream worth fighting for.

He would not fail the man he’d thought Adam to be. He would see that this dream was made into reality, whatever it took.

He felt a bit uneasy at those words, ‘whatever it took’, but if his own methods, if his own chivalry were useless, then he had to do as Lady Blake said and find some sort of medium between them and Assassin’s. He would not dip into his old enemy’s psychotic ruthlessness, but he had to be willing to do things he hadn’t been willing to previously in order to stand half a chance. After all, though he was confident in his skills, he would be the first to admit that a great many of his fellows had far greater Noble Phantasms. He’d died in the line of duty before and he was perfectly willing to accept fading back to the Throne when everything was down, but he refused to be useless, as he had been to Fionn and Kayneth. The entire faunus race was counting on him now, and he couldn’t fail his master a third time.

But first thing was first.

A towering black spire appeared on the horizon, a quartet of white beams blazing overhead into a blank void.

Salem awaited.


	80. The Combatants Are Set

“Heads up, everyone!” Winter called. “We’re nearly there.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes, the dark specter of Salem’s castle visible from the cockpit. The burning glare of the four Relic pillars blazed even more brightly from up close, flowing into a blank white void slowly expanding through the sky. From far away they could tell there were four, but now up close it was impossible to see the power’s origin points. Strangely though, it seemed like the fortress of evil had already sustained significant damage, a mountain of rubble taking the space where an eastern wing should have been. Had the Forward Assault Team made it there before them? No, all the Relics were still active, which meant the others were still fighting or… they were still fighting. Yang, Jaune, and the others wouldn’t let them down.

Just like she couldn’t let them down.

She glanced around the cockpit. Ren had recovered from overusing his semblance, sitting in the passenger seat, cocking both Stormflowers. He stared pensively at his pistols, his gray tone body betraying exactly how trepidatious he was about the upcoming battle. Blake pulled out Gambol Shroud and checked over the blade before resheathing her sword. Her hands then fell to the Contender and froze, her palm brushing over her ammunition pouch, the one holding the Origin Rounds. She took a deep breath, Lancer coming up behind her to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, rousing a legitimate smile from the cat faunus.

Kiritsugu pulled up his red hood, his unruly tuft of silver hair hidden by its shadows. He didn’t pull up his turban, however. Apparently, he planned to go into battle with his face unmasked, fight as himself instead of just Assassin.

Ruby curled her fists, feeling the pinpricks of her Limited Bladeworks just under her skin. A million daggers she’d be willing to suffer as many times as it took if it meant she could get everyone home alright.

“Set us down at the southeast,” Ruby ordered. “That way, if Saber Alter decides to turn on us instead of the others, she won’t be able to use her Noble Phantasm without risking a Relic in the line of fire.”

“Do you think the others can take her?” Blake asked worriedly.

“I think Mordred and Jaune have a better shot than the rest of us,” Ruby admitted. “In the meantime, we’ve got fifteen minutes before the world ends. We need to kill Caster now or take out a Relic and buy ourselves some more time. Lancer, Assassin, can you guys sense where she is in there?”

Lancer scowled. “Unfortunately, no. Whatever power is flowing out of the Relics, it’s making sensing _prana_ signatures… difficult. There is just so much flooding the air, it’s like a fog.”

“The sensors are still picking up the five points we detected on the _Mantle_ ,” Winter informed them, gesturing to the display. “However, we still have no way of differentiating between the Relics and the Greater Grail.”

“Then we’ll go after them one by one. Salem’s probably got Caster guarding one of them anyway,” Ruby surmised. “Saber Alter’s still to the east, can you pick up anyone else?”

“No,” Kiritsugu replied. “Like Lancer said, the interference in the castle… wait—Everyone out!”

“What?!”

Lancer’s eyes widened at the same time as Kiritsugu’s, the knight snatching Blake and Ren in his arms and smashing through the cockpit’s window. Ruby didn’t have time to question it before Kiritsugu did the same thing with her and Winter.

When the huntress looked back as they sailed through the air, she saw their bullhead erupt in a blaze of emerald fire, a massive axe flying through its plummeting form and soaring down to a black form closing on the horizon.

“What the hell was that?” Winter shouted, the shockwave sending them spiraling downward.

“Rider Alter,” Kiritsugu explained. “He seems to be heading for Saber.”

“Makes sense,” Ruby nodded. “That’s where Iskandar’s gonna come out. You head to the south point. Winter, do you have a landing strategy?”

“Of course. All huntsmen have a landing strategy. Why?”

Ruby smirked. She really should have known better. All her classmates except Jaune had had one before Beacon, but she could never be too careful.

She looked to Kiritsugu. “Good luck, grandpa.”

Her Servant nodded, his face visibly steeled. “And to you, master.”

Maybe she should have felt more at sending a family member off to possibly die, but for the most part, they’d said what needed to be said earlier. Now, there was only what needed to be done.

Assassin’s eyes darkened, and he evaporated into sapphire dust, sending the two huntresses freefalling through the air.

Winter’s eyes widened for a moment, but her experience kicked in a second later. She deftly drew her saber and thrust out beneath her, forming shining glyph after shining gift to slow her descent. After only seeing Weiss Alter’s dark version for so long, Ruby couldn’t help the joy that rose in her heart from seeing the intricate circles lit up white again.

In the meantime, she clamped her eyes shut and concentrated her aura, remembering the pain, the daggers beneath her skin, the pathways her power needed to take to bring her faithful weapon to her side.

“ _Trace on!_ ”

The blades stabbed under her skin and the suffering summoned sparks from her hands, which quickly coalesced into her beloved Crescent Rose.

Ruby shoved a pack of dust ammunition into the firing chamber, shifted the weapon under her, muzzle pointed down and fired, the recoil of the shot momentarily freezing her mid-flight. When gravity took over once again, she fired another round, pausing her descent. She repeated the process over and over, milking each fall for as much distance as she could without letting the momentum do any damage to her body. Gods knew that she didn’t need any more of that, glowing scar and all.

Soon enough she landed right after Winter, the both of them dashing over to Lancer, Blake, and Ren’s position at the castle doorstep, the Servant of the Spear having been able to handle the fall for his charges. The red hooded huntress ran straight past them, the group following her as they made their way to the dark fortress before them.

“Where did Assassin go?” Diarmuid inquired urgently.

“Split up,” Ruby explained. “He’s heading to the south, while we hit the point at the castle center. Other than the Eastern mark, those two are the closest.”

“What happened to hunting Caster?” Blake asked.

“Lancer and Assassin can both take her alone, but if we don’t find her soon, we’ll need more time,” Ruby shouted, trying to keep her breath while running. “One of the points is the Greater Grail, so by going for two at once, we’re going to find at least one Relic.”

Blake nodded, but a frown took over the cat faunus’ face. “Do you think Salem will have…”

“Someone guarding them? Most definitely. But without _prana_ sense, we’re flying blind.”

It also meant they had no way to pick their opponents. If they could feel the individual energy signatures within the castle they could have chosen to go after the absurdly high power of Lancer Alter in hopes that he would most defiantly be guarding something important, or something that appeared unguarded so as to face little resistance. Or at least, apparent resistance. If Kirei was among Salem’s forces now, he sure wouldn’t give off enough of a signature to be sensed.

Which meant she could have chosen who she sought out: Weiss or Kirei.

It might have been a dilemma, it might have been a choice, once upon a time. But now? Now, she knew exactly who she would have gone for.

The one she wanted to save.

 

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Arturia saw the lightning before she heard the thunder.

She’d been confused and impressed by her opponents’ advance. Even once they’d moved into her sword’s optimal range, her Noble Phantasm proved ineffective, blocked by a wall of holy light. All of the Servants of the war had been accounted for, and none of them possessed a defense capable of holding off Excalibur Morgan for over an hour. How had they done this?

Ultimately such wonder was irrelevant. When they were but ten minutes from the Queen’s final victory, the Gordius Wheel, led by a strange redheaded girl wielding a flagpole of all things, rocketed out the Grimm horde, Iskandar’s howls of victory following it all the way. Arturia’s Wyvern flapped its mighty wings and pushed back, clods of spawning mud plummeting to the ground as it gained some distance. As soon as she had it, the Dark-Tainted Tyrant lowered her blade and unleashed another blast.

The redhead flew forward and met the surge of darkness head-on, her flagpole spawning the shield of light that denied the assault. Despite all she had seen, Arturia’s eyes widened under her mask. This girl, what was she? She felt like a Servant, but not. Yet, she had deflected the greatest of holy swords.

In the end, she didn’t have any time to ponder the interloper. She leapt from her mount as the Gordius Wheel passed its protector, the chariot ramming straight through the Wyvern. The dragon screeched its last cries of agony as divine lightning boiled it from the inside-outside.

Arturia dove through the sky, utilizing Prana Burst to control her descent. The girl with the flagpole summoned eight blades of emerald plasma from behind her back, rotating them in a circle as she charged a shot of green energy. When she fired, the black knight let off another round of dark _prana_ to shoot herself out of the way.

She slammed down into the ground, standing proudly at the edge of a canyon cliff, the Relic of Knowledge right behind her, letting loose its bounty into the heavens.

One thing she was not surprised by however, was that the first lightning that came for her was not blue, but crimson.

Mordred streaked down from the chariot, fully armored and wreathed in a scarlet tempest, Clarent raised for a crippling slash. Arturia raised Excalibur in turn and the demonic swords clashed once more, the ground cracking from the force of their combat.

With a surge of hellish fire, Arturia forced her son back, the Knight of Treachery rolling into a combat stance several yards away. The Gordius Wheel swept down next to her, Jaune, Nora, and Yang accompanying the King of Conquerors within its hold.

Iskandar frowned upon her. “Really, Saber? You refuse my generous offer of recruitment to side with All the World’s Evils? I know we weren’t always on the best terms but really?”

“Infuriating as always, King of Conquerors,” Arturia hissed. “Perhaps you could do us all a favor and let us cross swords in silence.”

The Macedonian king sighed. “As you wish.”

He closed his eyes, his muscles tensing. Power swirled about him like a furious sandstorm, the air drying out like a desert.

But then it was gone. After the barest moment, the gathered _prana_ faded, the world as black and hellish as it had always been.

Arturia chuckled at Iskandar’s scowl. “This is the Queen’s world, Rider. Reality will not bend to your whim here.”

“I’ll keep her busy,” Mordred cut in. “You take out the Relic.”

Hmm. Not a bad strategy. It would certainly take a Servant's power to destroy one of the Relics, but she wouldn’t have expected Mordred to be so practical about their shift in tactics. Or perhaps they’d already suspected that Ionian Hetairoi would be too big to get past the Grimmlands’ distortion defenses and had a backup plan. Either way, were it just her, their plan might have had a chance.

Unfortunately for them, she was not alone.

“ISKANDAR!!!”

There was a vengeful satisfaction in watching Iskandar’s expression fall even further, everyone’s heads turning to behold Darius closing in on their position, his elephant mount charging faster than any pachyderm should have been capable of. The Athanaton Ten Thousand marched behind their general, racing for the canyon.

“Oh, not good,” Nora muttered, tightening her grip on her Warhammer.

“Ruler is already headed towards her objective, correct?” Iskandar urgently inquired to Jaune.

“Yeah, she went in the castle.”

“Good,” the King of Conquerors declared. “You two handle this. Yang and I’ll draw Darius off, see if I can beat him to the Northern point.”

“Right,” Jaune nodded, he and his teammate leaping off the chariot.

Iskandar shot him a brief nod and he and his master soaring off into the sky, his rival’s undead legion following close behind, launching spears into the sky as they went.

It wasn’t a bad plan. Without Ionian Hetairoi and with their Ruler (where had they gotten a Ruler?) off doing whatever mission she was sent for, Mordred and Iskandar wouldn’t be able to defeat her and Darius’ combined power, at least not in the brief time they had before the Queen was victorious. Separate… their odds were still not good, but they were better than if the Alters were united.

Jaune ran his hand over Nora’s shoulder, a soft white glow rising to his hand. Nora’s aura crackled with pink energy as the huntress glared at Arturia.

“Mordred, Jaune,” Arturia called. “The new world will be here soon. If you do nothing, we will all be able to live it together, in a land of truth. But if you choose to fight, I am honor-bound to do everything in my power to defeat you. Including, should it be necessary, to end you.”

Crimson electricity sparked across Mordred’s blade. “Sounds like your scared, father. Does the sight of us all arrayed against you strike fear in your blackened heart, King of Knights?”

“Hardly,” Arturia remarked. “After all, like you, I am far from alone.”

She watched the three cock their eyebrows in confusion before a thunderous howl pierced the air. Mordred kept her eyes pinned to the King of Knights, but Jaune and Nora whirled around to find a small horde of Grimm, mostly Ursas and Beowolves, the fruits of her fallen Wyvern’s mud.

“Shit,” Jaune muttered.

“Mor-Mor, give me a hit,” Nora demanded, shifting her hammer into a grenade launcher and taking aim. “As big as you can give me.”

“My lady, that’ll wear you out—”

“Not like this is going to be battle of endurance.”

Mordred grimaced but nodded. “Fair enough.”

She raised her sword into the air. “ **Red Thunder!** ”

A hail of crimson lightning exploded from her blade and surged into the huntress. Nora’s teeth chattered as a vicious, psychotic grin stretched over her face. “Oh, yeah! That’s the stuff!”

She charged off into the creatures of darkness. Jaune looked back to his Servant.

“Be careful, Mordred.”

The Knight of Treachery grinned. “You too, Jaune.”

The huntsmen nodded to his sibling and charge off into the fray after his teammate.

“I’m glad to see you two are getting along,” Arturia said warmly.

“Stuff it, we’re here to fight for the fate of the world, not for you to say how proud you are,” Mordred snipped.

“As you wish,” Arturia replied, darkness coating her blackened blade. “Shall we begin?”

A raging crimson tempest was her answer.

 

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Weiss smiled, her legs folded underneath her with her black Myrtenaster laid across her knees. She sat at the edge of the same pit of mud that had made her what she was now, the soft light of the Greater Grail shining down on her back.

“They’re coming,” she proclaimed. “Ruby, Blake, even Winter. They’re nearly here. They’ve been picking off the Grimm I’ve got combing through the castle.”

“Excellent,” Lancer Alter remarked, carving a series of archaic letters into the floor of the entrance with his spear. “Runes are done. Once you give the word, no one’s getting out of here.”

“Perfect,” Weiss chimed, rising to her feet. “I don’t know where in the world Yang could be, but I want everything to be as perfect as can be for Ruby and Blake’s ascension. Winter too, since she’ll be here.”

Cu Chulainn smirked. “You seem awfully chipper.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Weiss asked, gesturing all around her. “In less than ten minutes, the new world will be upon us. My friends’ deceivers have been eliminated, and two of them are on their way here right now, along with my sister. Kirei’s attempts to place doubt in my mind has been refuted by Ruby coming this way instead of towards him. Add to that being accompanied by the most handsome knight in the Throne of Heroes, and I do believe everything is coming up my way.”

Lancer Alter chuckled at her declaration, but it wasn’t long before a more pensive look came over his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my lady,” he assured her. “But just that puts me ill at ease.”

Weiss raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Things don’t tend to work out so cleanly for heroes,” he explained. “Saber, Rider, even Hazel, each of them was done in just when everything seemed to be going splendidly in their lives.”

“So?” Weiss asked. “That’s just how things work. Everything goes right until it doesn’t. It’s not some mystical force, people just notice the problems more after a prolonged period of success.”

“Maybe,” Lancer conceded. “But even in my own life, things never went this smoothly for so long. You get invited to a party, you kill a friend’s dog along the way and have to do its job until a replacement is trained. You propose to a beautiful and genius girl at a party, her father demands you go get training from a mythical war goddess because being a hero of prophecy isn’t good enough. You find the war goddess, get the training, defeat her evil and hot sister, end their blood feud and sleep with them both, and come back the greatest warrior Ireland has ever seen, and he _still_ says you aren’t good enough.”

Weiss blinked in shock. “Oh. So… um… did you and the girl…”

“Oh, we eloped. Her dad died,” Lancer mentioned offhandedly. He scratched his chin. “How _did_ he die?”

“Alright,” Weiss replied, nodding her head. “We should definitely stay on guard then. So… your wife? What was she like?”

Cu Chulainn smiled. It was a serene thing that seemed almost out of place on the bloodthirsty warrior. “The most beautiful and genius woman in all the land.” He turned towards her and flashed his usual playful smirk. “I guess you could say I have a type.”

Weiss turned away and blushed. “How are you so charming even when you’re talking about other women?”

“It’s a gift,” he joked, before fading into a more resigned expression. “And a curse, I suppose.”

She strode over to him and embraced him in a tender embrace, one he quickly returned.

“Do you know what happened to her?” Weiss asked. “After you died?”

“Not a clue,” he murmured. “I was always the battle maniac, the one going on grand adventures. Emer was incredible, but I don’t know if she fits whatever criteria the Throne of Heroes uses and even if she is in there somewhere, the odds of us both being summoned is less than impossible. Most likely, I’ll never see her again. I made my peace with that long ago. Everything ends, we just have to enjoy the happiness we get. And we move on.”

“Maybe,” Weiss conceded. She steeled her face. “But maybe not. Maybe we can kick the rules to the side and get everything we want.”

Lancer pulled out of the hug and raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t follow, my lady.”

Weiss smirked. “Well, glad to know I can stump you too. When Salem is the spirit of this world, what limitations exist on how many Alters I can call will disappear. It might take a bit of searching, but with you as the catalyst, if she’s in the Throne, we’ll find her. We’ll bring her to the Queen’s paradise, and we’ll all have everything we want.”

Lancer Alter’s face went through a rigor of shock, wonder, and incredulity. “My lady, you’d really do that?”

“After everything you’ve done for me, it seems the least I can do,” Weiss declared. She looked down shyly. “And even if you really love her, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you, Cu Chulainn—”

Anything else she would have said was cut off when he pulled her back in and smashed his lips into hers. She closed her eyes and savored the kiss, the warmth flowing through them both in the bowels of hell. Eventually, however, they pulled apart so she could breathe.

“Setenta,” Lancer whispered lovingly.

“What?”

“My name. My original name,” he clarified, holding her close. “Cu Chulainn is a title. “The Hound of Chulainn”, the guy whose dog I had to be for a year. Afterward, it just sort of stuck, became so well known that it appears more often than the real deal.”

“Oh,” Weiss muttered, still trying to remember if up was down or down was up. “That makes sense.”

Lancer chuckled. He smiled tenderly straight at her. “I do love you, Weiss. I love both you and Emer, and neither reduces my feelings for the other. I know that may not make much sense—”

“No, I get it,” she assured him, though she’d only just come to grasp it. “Like how I care for my teammates. I think… I think I understand. And I think, when this is over, I’d like to meet Emer.” She smirked. “It’ll be fun to see what the both of us can cook up to keep you in your place.”

“On second thought, maybe you should be jealous of each other—”

This time she silenced him with a kiss. They stood there for several long seconds until an embarrassed cough drew their attention to the entrance corridor.

Weiss was momentarily furious at the intrusion but the sight of who it was brought a beaming smile to her face. “Ruby! Blake! Winter! I’m so glad you’re here!”

The trio didn’t seem nearly as pleased as she was, though considering what they’d walked in on, that could be forgiven. Ruby was constantly opening and closing her mouth like she wanted to say something but it couldn’t quite figure out what, Crescent Rose swinging at her side. Blake was blushing fiercely as her eyes darted about _anywhere_ but Weiss and Cu Chulainn. Her Lancer seemed to be unsure whether he should be attacking or not. Winter was clutching her sabers very, _very_ tightly as she glared daggers at Lancer Alter.

Ren was actually doing quite well, by comparison. Apparently, ninja guy was comfortable with public displays of affection. Huh, wonder when that happened?

“Well… um…” Ruby stuttered, her brave leader seeming even more on the back foot than she’d been when she’d knocked over her luggage at Beacon. “We’re here… for the battle… to decide the fate of the world… so…”

“Well, it’d simpler if you jumped into the pit. You know, get a head start on being an Alter,” Weiss shrugged. “But okay, I guess we can have a battle.”

“I’m up for a battle,” Cu Chulainn declared, Gae Bolg spawning in his hands. He grinned at Diarmuid. “No Hercules to jump in this time, Fianna. Looks like I’m all yours.”

The other Irishman narrowed his eyes and raised his spears. “I look forward to our duel, Knight of Ulster.”

“Rip out his throat!” Winter snarled.

Weiss rolled her eyes. She supposed Winter had a right to be the overprotective big sister, but really, was there a better catch than an ancient and noble hero?

“Wait!” Ruby shouted, holding out her hands. She pointed to the Greater Grail. “Is that a Relic?”

Weiss cocked an eyebrow. “No. That’s the Greater Grail. The Relics are smaller.”

“Oh. Well, that’s too bad,” Ruby muttered. “Because we’re looking for Relics… so we’ll just… go... let you two get back to what you were doing…”

Black tentacles of mud erupted from the pit and slammed into Weiss’ back. She grinned as they surged dark _prana_ through her veins, supercharging her powers. Myrtenaster slipped to the edge of her fingers and tapped the ground.

Three glyphs ignited around the room, two in the chamber itself and one in the entrance corridor. Each churned with black mud, Grimm quickly emerging from their depths, too quickly for the others to react. The space was too confined for an Arma Nuckelavee, but the duo of Queen Lancers she’d called to flank her and the Arma Gigas guarding the hall would suffice.

“So you can try to delay the coming of the new world?” Weiss proposed. She sighed. “Really, Ruby? Those who would use you as a pawn are gone. There is no more reason to be their weapon.”

“Weiss, please,” Winter begged. “Listen to yourself. A new world? Alters? This isn’t you. Salem has—”

“Salem has shown me the truth, Winter,” she cut in. “No more hiding behind morality and claiming we are justified. How long did we watch what our father did to our family? How long did mother? She was the Winter Maiden. She could have thrown some ice under his feet, had him slip and crack his head. No one would have known it was her and our family would have been better off. She most certainly must have wanted to at some point or another, but she didn’t. And why? Because it wasn’t what a _good_ person would do. In the Queen’s new world, such a thing will never happen again. There will be no good people and no evil people. No differentiation between human or faunus. Just people. Doing whatever they desire. It will not be perfect, but it will be loads better than the hell we’re living in now.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “She said from the bowels of the Grimmlands.”

Weiss sighed. “Of all people Ruby, you deserve to be able to do whatever you want. Not what other people want to make of you.”

“Good, then I’m going to go save the world.”

The red hooded huntress whirled around and blasted towards the exit in a flurry of rose petals, Crescent Rose pulled back for a strike at the Arma Gigas. But the moment she made it to the threshold, Cu Chulainn’s runes lit up red along the floor, throwing up a barrier of scarlet energy in the doorway. Ruby’s eyes widened, and she bounced off as if she’d struck a normal wall, hissing in pain as she recollected herself.

“Good,” Weiss replied, the Arma Gigas stepping through the energy barrier and into the chamber, proof that the runes only prevented people from leaving. “The Queen will have saved us all before long.”

Diarmuid narrowed his eyes and jetted towards the exit, his crimson spear aimed for the runes. Unfortunately for him, Cu Chulainn intercepted, blowing right through the assembled huntsmen and catching his fellow Lancer’s strike. He heaved with his vastly superior strength and forced dual wielder back, the two beginning dance faster than the eye could see.

Weiss smiled as the others rose to their feet, her Grimm closing in around them. “Well? You wanted a battle. Let us entertain ourselves before All the World’s Evils becomes all the world.”

 

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The chamber was empty. That meant he was either ridiculously lucky or this was a trap.

Damn. Even now that he knew Affections of the Holy Grail existed, he still couldn’t use it to his advantage since he had no idea how to activate it.

Nevertheless, Kiritsugu pushed on into the Southern point, an elegant pure black greatsword hovering just above a pit of black mud. He assumed it was the Relic, given the gargantuan pillar of light blasting out of it.

The Assassin carefully but quickly made his way to the center of the chamber. He was on a time limit, but acting rashly would help no one. His Presence Concealment would keep him hidden as long as he was in spirit form, but he’d have to drop it to attack. It wasn’t a wide window of vulnerability, but still…

The world was counting on him. Ruby was counting on him. He had to act.

He materialized, his Contender already cocked and aimed. With a pull of the trigger, he fired.

The reaction was instantaneous. A hand lined with black veins and adorned with a single black Command Seal shot up from the depths of the pit, the mud following its movement and forming a wall before the sword.

The Origin Round slammed into the dark defense. Unfortunately, unlike Kayneth’s Volumen Hydrargyrum, the mud did not shatter, though the bullet did manage to punch through. The raised hand twisted and thrust to the side and the wall mimicked its path. The round flew out into the air far from the sword, thrown off course by its time in the barrier.

Kiritsugu snarled, but he even as he reloaded he was forced back, a swarm of black tentacles riving from the pit, a cloaked figure, thinner than he expected following them. He dashed to the far, dodging waves that cracked the dark stone floor. He glanced up to see who he was dealing with and his eyes widened.

It was a woman, with chalk-white skin and a gown blacker than the night sky. Her eyes were blood red on eternal darkness, the chilling, sadistic grasp of hell easily recognizable from the butchers and demons he’d encountered over centuries of work as a Counter Guardian. Even if he didn’t remember the distinctive repugnance from his time in the Holy Grail at the end of the Fourth War, there would be no doubt in his mind that the being before him was Salem, the incarnation of All the World’s Evils.

But something was different from their last encounter. There was an elegance to her poise, a playfulness in her smirk. It was corrupted, twisted, but the style, the mannerisms, it was almost like…”

“Iri?”

Salem grinned like a wolf that smelt blood. “She was part of the inspiration, along with sprinkles from another. But enough about the past. My new world awaits, Kiritsugu Emiya, I refuse to tolerate your presence in it.”

Bubbles spewed along the mud as if it were boiling, the hand that had risen before extending out to reveal its owner’s full body to Kiritsugu. It was hardly a surprise, but no less welcome.

“Kirei,” the Mage Killer growled.

The priest raised his head, his expression strangely dull and uninvigorated, at least until he laid eyes on Kiritsugu. Then he broke out into his traditional smirk, rising to his feet, several black tentacles connecting his back to the pit below. He stepped onto the floor, extending his hands to both sides, swaths of the mud copying his movements.

“Well then, old friend,” he replied. “Shall we begin?”


	81. What is Your Wish, Kirei Kotomine?

Five minutes.

Five minutes until the end of the world.

Five minutes to save the world.

Five minutes to save the world _and she was stuck in a fight that didn’t matter!_

Okay, so facing off with Weiss Alter wasn’t a battle she had no interest in, but when they were so short on time and they’d found the one chamber _without a Relic_ , it was a bout Ruby really wished she could put off.

Unfortunately, her blackened partner had other plans. Whatever rune barrier she’d set up to keep them in, smacking into it had felt like a steel wall. Lancer’s Gae Dearg or an Origin Round should have been able to dispel it quite easily, but that was only if they could get an attack off with one of them. As it was, Diarmuid was scrambling to stay one step ahead of Lancer Alter and Blake had already been forced to use two shadow clones to avoid the Arma Gigas’ massive blade.

Winter and Ren had each taken to facing one of the Queen Lancers, and while the member of Team JNPR struggled against a foe more heavily armored than his low caliber dust rounds were meant for, Winter was making quick work of the demon before her, her sabers having already severed one of the beast’s wings. The wasp-like creature sputtered as it sank to the ground, desperately firing its stingers to keep the Atlesian Specialist away. It wouldn’t last, but the Alpha Beowolves climbing up from the mud pit meant that the huntress would likely remain occupied, though hopefully not too much to use the item Ruby had given her before they’d arrived.

As for the red hooded huntress herself, she’d perhaps expectedly been engaged by her brainwashed teammate. The two of them danced through the air, Weiss on her glyphs and Ruby by bounding off the walls and activating her semblance at opportune moments. Crescent Rose and Myrtenaster clashed again and again, sparks flying from the crimson and black steel. Weiss may not have wanted to kill her like at Kuroyuri, but she was still smiling like a lunatic as they crossed blades, her strikes precise, strong, and relentless. Despite the constant acrobatics, her form was perfect, her sword giving Ruby no openings to take a hand from her scythe and trace another weapon. If she could, Limited Bladeworks could have granted her a Contender and she could have put an Origin Round in her teammate.

But she didn’t think that was a good idea. With the situation as dire as it was, she couldn’t put her ambition of saving her best friend before the world, but she didn’t think subjecting her to an agonizing death would be any more helpful at the moment. Despite the valiant struggles of all present, the only battle in the chamber that really mattered was the duel between the Lancers. Diarmuid was holding out as well as he could, but though his skill and speed were great, Cu Chulainn was his equal or superior in every regard. The Alters’ only master was Salem, everyone else they worked with was merely a handler. And as had been shown from Dr. Watts’ death, incapacitating the handler would do nothing to the Servant. If what… the thing that Weiss and Ireland’s Child of Light had been doing when the stealth team had shown up was any indication, he’d take her death very, _very_ poorly.

But, if Weiss were to suddenly be on _their_ side, she would still have the Command Seal linked to Cu Chulainn. And then, she could… well… order him to die.

Ruby wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea. It had sprung into her head when she was thinking of Kiritsugu’s gambit against Diarmuid’s old master. And it wasn’t anymore Lancer Alter’s fault that he was working for Salem than it was Weiss’. Both of them had been brainwashed. But between the two of them, she could only save her partner. And by doing that, she could break the barrier keeping her inside this place, book it to one of the other Relics, and maybe, just maybe, save the world.

All in less than five minutes.

…

Time to work a miracle.

“You seem distracted,” Weiss observed, launching a thrust that Ruby was just barely fast enough to parry. “Are you sure you want to do this until the dark genesis arrives? It would be just as easy to jump in the mud now.”

Ruby furrowed her brow in focus. Even as the two of them dashed through the air, bathed in the shining light of the Greater Grail, her partner was smart enough to keep close to her. Crescent Rose was a polearm, and that meant it was most effective when her target was within a sweet spot. By keeping the duel so intimate, Myrtenaster’s comparatively shorter reach was rendered superior while the scythe was made cumbersome. Only Ruby’s hard-earned skill kept her from being completely on the defensive.

She needed to change up the pace of the battle, before it was too late. But Weiss wasn’t fighting as she had at Kuroyuri, cruel, spiteful, going for the pain instead of the kill. Nor was she laser-focused at her opponent like she had been at Beacon, which tended to open her up to alternate hazards. She was treating the entire battle as exercise, relaxed and ready for anything. Ruby couldn’t slip in what she needed to with her so calm.

Fortunately, she knew a thing or two about pushing Weiss’ buttons.

“Hey, Weiss, little question,” Ruby snipped casually, bursting into a stream of rose petals to flank her opponent. “Why would we _want_  to jump in the mud?”

The former heiress whirled around to parry the assault, but she cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you not? To be one with the Queen, Ruby, it’s nirvana. To know that you need feel no shame, whatever your desires. To know the hypocritical morality of others need never bar you again.”

Ruby recoiled from her partner’s counterattack and dropped back to the ground, twirling her scythe to deflect a round of phantasmal swords. “Nirvana, eh?” she called, unimpressed. “Sounds like another word for brainwashing.”

“It’s not brainwashing,” Weiss hissed, shooting down to catch Ruby in a blade lock, pressing her rapier hard on Crescent Rose’ shaft. “It’s freedom.”

“Freedom to be at Salem’s beck and call.”

“It’s called gratitude!” Weiss growled. “What, was I supposed to _not_ be grateful for her opening my eyes?”

“She didn’t open your eyes,” Ruby responded, stoic and matter of fact. “She had Emerald kidnap you and made you think you were a puppet that could see the strings.”

“Why won’t you understand?!” Weiss screeched. She drew back and launched a vicious series of strikes, driving Ruby closer and closer to the edge of the pit. As the massive Beowolves rose to swarm Winter, the black mud bubbled with ill intent. “I’ve done everything to make you understand! I’ve apologized for my stupidity at Kuroyuri, I told you about how you’ve been manipulated, I even took care of that lout of an uncle of yours! The swine who molded you into a weapon for Ozpin’s war!”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed, but she tampered down her fury. The point of this verbal combat was to unhinge Weiss, not her. She had to keep calm.

“Uncle Qrow didn’t mold me. Ozpin didn’t make me his weapon,” she stated. “ _I_ wanted to be a huntress. _I_ wanted to save people. And both of them did their best to make me understand the realities of what that would mean. They helped me do what I wanted to do. Sure, they weren’t perfect, but they cared that I made my own choice in the end. You used to understand that. You wanted to choose your own path, make your own legacy, a better one than your father. That’s choice. That’s freedom. And Salem’s taken yours.”

“No!” Weiss screamed, raining down a storm of relentless blows. “Why won’t you see?! They’ve twisted you! Molded you since before—”

There! It was brief, but Weiss’ emotions had led her to swing just a fraction too wide. Ruby burst into rose petals and rocketed away from her partner, appearing beside Winter just as the latter stood over her Queen Lancer as it disintegrated to dust. The two huntresses shared a look as the quartet of Alpha Beowolves surrounded them.

“I’ll handle these guys,” Ruby ordered, sweeping Crescent Rose in a wide arc to keep the beasts at bay. “Go get her!”

Winter nodded in thanks. She waved her sabers and a line of white glyphs appeared over the floor, allowing her to rocket over to her sister, Weiss bringing up her own sword to meet the dual assault.

“Winter, please listen to me!” she pleaded. “This is for the best, for everyone! You, me, mother, we’ll all live like queens in the new world! No more Jacques, no more tainted name! Just us, as a family! Free from his stain!”

The elder Schnee frowned, tears collecting in her eyes. “What happened to Whitley, Weiss?”

Weiss scowled, utter contempt flooding her face. “He betrayed me. I had Lancer dispose of him.”

“He was our brother!”

“He was a snake!” Weiss roared. “We were all tortured under Jacques. He was just the only one who let it break him. Only the Queen’s genius saved me from him!”

This time, Winter could not hold in her tears. “They were right. She’s twisted you.”

She shoved Weiss back a few yards, using the distance to slip her short sword back into its hold within her main saber. Then, her hand slipped down to her belt and drew a new, much cruder blade.

“But don’t worry, little sister,” Winter assured her, brandishing Rule Breaker in her offhand. “I will save you.”

“That?” Weiss gasped, though more confused than afraid. “How in the world did you get that?”

Her question was left unanswered as Winter dived in, her saber raised to bat Myrtenaster aside so she could get a clear stab with the Noble Phantasm. Unfortunately, with the physical boost she’d gained from the mud, Weiss was more than capable of keeping up with her more experienced sister. She summoned a ghostly Arma Gigas sword to her offhand and used it to deflect Winter’s sword, meeting Rule Breaker with her own rapier. The jagged reflective face of the dagger cracked along the edge.

Ruby sighed. It was not unexpected. Rule Breaker simply wasn’t meant for combat. Even if it was a Noble Phantasm, it would only last a few strikes against a real weapon. It was a long shot that Winter would be able to sneak in a blow, since Weiss was apparently well aware of the power of Caster’s Noble Phantasm.

Fortunately, they had accounted for that.

For now, the red hooded huntress faced the Beowolves. Newly spawned or not, they already had the appearance of Alphas, rippling with ravenous muscle, jagged spikes of bone armor covering their forearms with fangs the size of Ruby’s waist salivating in their maw. Maybe it was the result of Salem’s growing power, but these newborns were far from the unarmored whelps she’d slaughtered on the way back from her mother’s grave so long ago.

But then again, Ruby had changed a great deal since then as well.

_%l$#@ $* &%#_

_CHI-CHUN!_

Crescent Rose was already unfurled. Silver light quickly bathed its blade, Ruby’s vision tainted by the white haze. Across her right cheek, she could feel her scar throbbing, the pain lashing out down to her throat. But with all that was at stake, the agony was inconsequential.

With a single sweeping slice, she cut through the half dozen beasts before her like carving a cake, their armor helpless against the power made to destroy them. At the same moment they died, Ruby whirled around and darted back to the duel of the Schnee sisters.

Weiss’ back was to her as she held off her sister, Rule Breaker slowly chipping away, bit by bit. She may not have known it was just a projection, but she apparently recognized the danger. She knew it would disperse any of her Grimm summons’ forms and if it struck her, it would break her connection to Salem.

But she didn’t know it was a _projection_. Which meant she didn’t know that Ruby could make more.

It would hardly be an easy task. She’d used her semblance multiple times during the battle, and though her aura was not perilously low, Rule Breaker was not something that could be fudged. If she didn’t recreate it perfectly, its own anti-magecraft nature would activate against its status as a projection and implode. Add to that that she was on the move, not standing still while others covered her, and it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to call it an impossible task, or at the very least _highly_ improbable.

Could she do it for Weiss?

For the girl who killed her uncle? No.

For her best friend, who had been kidnapped and brainwashed, who was just another one of Salem’s victims? Yes. Always.

“ _Trace on._ ”

Sparks flew across her left hand and a jagged blade identical to Winter’s appeared in her grip.

If Weiss saw her coming, she didn’t react fast enough. Myrtenaster was occupied halting Winter’s assault, and though a pair of black glyphs appeared above her head and fired ghostly swords at her path, Ruby was able to dodge those with a quick burst of her semblance.

She jetted behind her partner and drove Rule Breaker into her back.

Weiss let out a short gasp, her back arched like she’d been struck by a cattle prod. She stumbled forward, Winter pulling back to give her sister some room.

“My lady!” Lancer Alter roared. He swung Gae Bolg like a battle axe, the force of a train behind it. Diarmuid brought up both his spears to block, but the blow still sent him flying back into the wall, the black stone crumbling under the impact. Cu Chulainn might have killed him if he’d pressed the assault, but instead, he rocketed over to his handler, Ruby and Winter both forced to use their semblances just to get out of his way in time. He cradled Weiss in his arms, balancing her as she stumbled over her heels. “My lady, are you alright?”

Weiss blinked, her eyes… her _blue_ eyes unable to focus, not a black vein on her face.

“Yes,” she mumbled, as if waking up from a dream. “I’m fine, Lancer. I’m… I’m…”

Her eyes widened. Her breath quickened, her knees shaking with shock.

“My lady?” Lancer Alter asked worriedly. “My lady, what’s—Argh!”

Pitch black veins erupted across the Servant of the Spear’s flesh, his crimson eyes drowned in pools of darkness. He howled in pain, leaping back from Weiss to avoid striking her in his thrashing.

The Schnee heiress collapsed to her knees, her legs unable to support her weight. Tears poured out from her eyes. “What did I… what did I…”

“ _Worry not, my dear._ ” Lancer Alter spoke, but the tone was different, more sinister and smooth, like silk. The words may have been coming from the spearman’s mouth, but he was certainly not the one speaking. “ _I am still within you. The pain will pass. And then, bring your friends into our loving grasp._ ”

Ruby scowled. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Salem speaking through the hero. The Mother of Grimm’s words were a chilling reminder of their race against time, which they were surely close to losing. And with Lancer Alter whirling around to meet a charging Diarmuid, they needed to pull Weiss together _now_ , or they’d never be able to make it.

But something was off. Why wasn’t Salem more concerned about Weiss being freed? She wasn’t even mad, just assured that… oh no. It might have been that she meant when the Relics finished reaching Avalon, but if not…

Winter ran over to Weiss, hugging her sister to her chest. “It’s alright. Weiss, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“I killed Qrow,” Weiss said, her breath rapid and horrified. “I killed Whitley. I… I… what have I…”

“Shush. Shush,” Winter whispered. “It’s alright. It’s over, you’re—”

“Winter, get away from her!” Ruby yelled, activating her semblance and tackling the Specialist away.

“Ruby?” Winter snapped. “What are you doing?”

“Something’s wrong. She’s not—”

“Ruby!”

Despite her better instincts, Ruby couldn’t stop herself from turning to face her broken partner. The once-proud Ice Queen was curled up on the ground, her crystal eyes shattered as tears gushed out. Her body shivered, as if riddled with sickness, dark veins slowly reemerging across her flesh.

“Kill me,” she whimpered, staring desperately into her partner’s eyes. “Please, Ruby, kill before I hurt anyone else—argh!”

“Weiss!” Ruby shouted, concern overcoming her even as Winter dashed back to her sister.

Unfortunately, one blink later and Weiss eyes were once more a pale yellow.

Her shivering ceased immediately, her wet, pleading face replaced by a scowl of livid fury.

Rule Breaker could cancel out any magical connection. But it had no way of actually removing the mud that was physically within Weiss’ body. And when they were within Salem’s very own inner world, there was nothing to stop her from simply reestablishing the corruption.

Ruby’s heart fell. She’d failed to save her friend. And by that, she was trapped, powerless to save the world.

They’d run out of time.

 

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Kiritsugu growled as he ducked away from another surge of black mud. He was running out of time. He had maybe two minutes to destroy the Relic before the world ended and despite his speed, he was getting nowhere. Summer’s death would have been for nothing! Ruby would die--

 _‘Calm down,’_ he ordered himself. It was rare that he panicked after all that he’d been through, but he hadn’t had anything so personal in a while, facing down his nemesis who’d killed his son and the incarnation of evil that had twisted his words to destroy all he ever sought to defend. He needed to take stock of every factor of the situation, just like Natalia had taught him so long ago, find an opening, some sort of weakness to exploit.

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be many. Salem had split off from the mud pit and taken a position at the entrance, her raised hands blazing with hellish magic. All around him, portals of darkness would open at the most inopportune times, spindly Grimm arms clawing out to drag him within. He could feel all the curses that had slain him in life slithering within the void, just waiting to smother him again. Still, with his speed, he was for the most part able to outmaneuver the portals, pausing at the last moment and then speeding away. The real problem was, as it always seemed to be, Kirei.

The bastard stood just on the edge of the pit, pulsing black mud tentacles connecting his back to the reservoir below. His eyes narrowed in absolute focus, mud following every precise sweep of his arms, wave after wave of darkness crashing into wherever Kiritsugu was.

It shouldn’t have mattered. Kiritsugu remembered Kirei being capable of adjusting to his speed advantage, but that was when they were both human. Now Kiritsugu was a Servant, he could push his Time Alter to levels comparable to a Noble Phantasm if he really had to. No mere human should have been capable of keeping track of him, not even an Alter.

And yet, he had a sneaking suspicion that his old foe was not merely human anymore. His arms and frowning face were lined with spindly black veins, like a demon from a storybook, the mud tentacles behind him pulsing as they pumped power into his body.

Kiritsugu raised his Calico and peppered him with a spray of light fire. He had to shift the machine pistol away to ward off another of Salem’s portals, but by that point, the Contender was already rising and aimed at the connection between Kirei and the pit.

A trio of Black Keys popped into the priest’s grip, but before he could activate their blades, his arm was already sweeping up, a wall of mud effortlessly blocking the small arms fire. As soon as the barrage concluded, it was already curling away, throwing the Origin Round off course even as it exploded under the magecraft. Kirei frowned and returned his keys to his sleeve, thrusting his hand forward and sending another wave of mud towards Kiritsugu.

Two portals of Grimm opened up behind him, hordes of claws racing at his back. He slipped one of his borrowed dust grenades from his belt and tossed it back.

_‘Time Alter: Pent-Accel.’_

He burst forth from the minuscule gap between the portals and the approaching mud, a blur in the eyes of any looking on. The Grimm claws made an attempt to follow, but they were encased in ice by his grenade a moment later. The mud smashed into their frozen forms, crushing them to pieces.

Kiritsugu near-instantly reloaded his Contender, his body rocketing at five times his usual speed. He fired once, aimed at the Relic, then, as soon as the round had left the chamber, put in another shot and aimed for Kirei himself.

Once more, Kirei flicked his hand and a wave of mud threw the bullet aimed for the Relic off course. However, the second wave, obviously intended for the second shot, had nothing to block. Kirei quickly leaned back, the Origin Round striking him in the upper shoulder instead of the heart. One of the tentacles connecting him to the mud exploded, though a new one rose from the pit to replace it. A chip of flaking mud tumbled down from under the priest’s left eye.

Kiritsugu scowled. He must have realized the shot was coming for him after his second defense wasn’t destroyed and lowered his aura to prevent it from being struck. The origin manifestation then sought out his _prana_ source, which couldn’t harm him if it wasn’t his own magic circuits. It was the same strategy he’d used in their last bout with his Command Seals, only this time it wasn’t luck. He knew the Mage Killer’s tricks and knew how to counter them.

But still, something was off. When he’d realized the Origin Round was coming for him, he hadn’t reacted at all. No widening of the eyes, no realization of imminent danger, just nothing. Kirei was an expert combatant and Executor, but he wasn’t immune to showing surprise. It was as if… he was detached. He was just going through the motions.

This wasn’t the Kirei he had fought back in Fuyuki, or had tortured him for months. This wasn’t the man who had given him a speech about how much he enjoyed inflicting suffering. He wasn’t enjoying this. Since the battle had begun, he hadn’t smiled once.

A few weeks ago, that would have meant nothing to Kiritsugu. But after his talks with Ruby and Rider, after the revelation that Kirei was a dark mirror of Shirou, he understood exactly what was going through his enemy’s mind.

Shirou only felt happy when he saved people. Kirei only felt happy when he hurt people.

When _he_ hurt people.

In time, Kiritsugu might have been able to outspeed his opponents, take advantage of some momentary lapse, the kind of mistake that could happen in combat, even to the most experienced of warriors. But with combatants as old and practiced as Kirei and Salem, that mistake could take a while to crop up, and that was time he did not have.

He had to make it. And he was pretty sure he knew exactly how.

So, with that in mind, Kiritsugu Emiya laughed.

 

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The rematch Kirei had been awaiting for weeks had come at last. He was facing down his nemesis, the boon God had granted to a sordid demon such as himself, in a battle for the morality of all. Despite his opponent’s nature as a Heroic Spirit, Salem’s new body performed as promised. It took every last ounce of dexterity and prediction from his reinforcement, his training, and his semblance, but he was able to keep up with Kiritsugu’s movements, countering even the Origin Rounds. As the clock whittled down to zero, and the Relics came closer and closer to ushering in the new world, he only needed to hold out for a bit longer.

It was everything he’d wanted since he’d summoned the Mage Killer. The Hero of Justice would be crushed, and his existence as a monstrosity would be validated. Even Ruby would be swept aside by the wave of All the World’s Evils.

And yet, for some reason, it wasn’t the same. He didn’t feel that same blazing fire that had raged within him at the close of the Fourth Holy Grail War, filling him with the purest of all jubilation. Even as his body yearned to draw his keys and charge into the fray, his mind recognized that it was a foolhardy tactic, Salem’s whispering confirming the idea. To kill Kiritsugu, the best strategy was to keep drawing power from the mud, reducing the effectiveness of his Origin Rounds, and keep him on the defensive. Hold him off until the new world was born.

Yes… it was proving to be an effective strategy… but…

His attention was drawn away from his inner conflict when he heard a deep, mocking sound the likes of which he had never even fathomed.

The laughter of the Mage Killer.

**Ignore him. Victory is almost ours.**

Kirei disregarded the mud’s whispers. He had spent decades seeking out Heroes of Justice. He could not very well simply ignore the progenitor of them, especially not when he was acting so… uncharacteristically.

“Laughter, Kiritsugu Emiya?” he inquired, thrusting a hand and a spike of mud towards his enemy. “Has your impending doom driven you mad at last?”

“No,” Kiritsugu grinned, a truly off-putting sight. “I just find it amusing that there’s no way you can win this fight.”

Kirei cocked an eyebrow as his foe dodged his assault, sweeping a wave of mud to cover the floor. “You scramble to survive. Your allies are powerless. And in a matter of moments, the world will be reborn as a bountiful hell. Where is my disadvantage?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Salem’s odds of winning this are quite good,” Kiritsugu conceded, leaping into the air and freezing the mud floor with an ice dust grenade. “But _you_? You won’t be satisfied no matter how this ends, at least as you’re fighting now.”

**He seeks to confuse you! Do not rise to his tricks!**

“I fight in the most effective manner to cause your defeat,” Kirei retorted. “I believe your death will please me greatly.”

“My death at Salem’s hand?” Kiritsugu taunted, dashing around as the mud melted the layer of ice. “That didn’t bring you much pleasure at the fire. Are you willing to let this battle end just like that one?”

“My actions will destroy you,” Kirei growled, though he was unsure if he addressed the Mage Killer or himself. “Whether it is done with Salem’s assistance or not is irrelevant.”

Kiritsugu chuckled, barely dancing out of the grasp of one of Salem’s voids. “We both know that’s not enough for you. You didn’t try forging Ruby into a copy of me just to get help at the end. We’re too much alike for that.”

“We are nothing alike,” Kirei snarled, his Black Keys sliding into his grip. “I thought we’d already deduced that, Mage Killer. I am the monster, and you are the hero.”

“When you are happy, it causes you pain, does it not?”

“What?”

“It’s how Iri used to describe me,” Kiritsugu explained, ducking under a surge of Nuckelavee claws. “After everything that I’ve done, all the blood I’ve shed, I don’t deserve anything resembling happiness, and so when I have it, I am plagued with guilt. That’s why I couldn’t understand someone like you, who could possibly find joy in the actions that poisoned my own.”

“And yet now you claim you do?” Kirei mocked, even as his hands shook with rage.

Kiritsugu nodded. “A psychopath doesn’t care if what they do is wrong or evil. But you, you do it _because_ it’s evil. Because for some unfathomable reason, that’s the only way you can be happy.”

“Precisely. I am a monster.”

“Worse. You are a man trapped in a monster’s skin,” Kiritsugu declared. “You still understand what is good and what is evil, and you aren’t so heartless as to not care which is which. You feel the guilt of every horrible thing you’ve ever done. It poisons you just like me, only you don’t have any other way to feel… anything. It’s almost pitiful.”

“You _dare_?!” Kirei roared, unleashing a tsunami of mud on his foe. So what if this bastard had identified the ache, the sliver, that prevented the priest from knowing true, absolute euphoria? Neither of them could change what he was and only the new world could make it inconsequential. It was not the role of a Hero of Justice to show _pity_ to a villainous cur like him!

_“Time Alter: Hex-Accel!”_

A sizable hole erupted from the wave of mud punctured by an Origin Round. In the briefest of instants, before the tear could be healed, a crimson blur shot through, racing for the Relic, his hand cannon reloading as fast as the breach could open.

Kirei tracked his foe’s approach and compensated for the distance, thrusting blade after blade of mud towards him, each one getting punctured by an Origin Round. At last, he dashed forward himself, the two meeting in a head-on clash. Kirei rained down a hail of blows upon his enemy, black flakes flying from his skin as he pushed his body to keep up. Were it not for the endless supply of dark _prana_ from the tentacles linking him to the Queen, he would not have been able to do so.

Black portals opened on either side of Kiritsugu, the Mage Killer forced to hop back to avoid the incoming Grimm arms. But with those same appendages blocking Kirei’s path, the Assassin was able to bring up the Contender and fire before the priest could close the range once more.

Kirei’s hand flashed up, but instead of the mud, he spawned the gleaming blades of his Black Keys into being, flattening their holy steel into a shield. They shattered to pieces, but they stopped the Origin Round in its tracks.

It was… exhilarating. That was the rush he’d been looking for, the breakneck battle he’d craved for over twenty-five years. But why had that exchange provided him with his joy when previously he’d been so unenthused… ah.

His question was answered as he spotted the Command Seal he’d received fade from the back of his hand. Already he could hear Salem’s whispers berating him for using his reserve when he’d still had clear access to the endless wellspring of her power. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to listen.

“You told me that you once thought I might have the answer to your fulfillment,” Kiritsugu shouted, falling back and circling around the pit, ducking and weaving around Salem’s voids all the way. “I don’t. I never did. Maybe she does. Maybe her new hellhole will let you enjoy all humanity’s unknowing suffering while being free from any need to feel guilt. Maybe you will finally know pure joy. But you will never be truly satisfied.”

Kirei scowled as he whirled to face his nemesis, his fists clenching so hard they drew blood from his palm, mud pooling to salve the wounds but ultimately just flaking off an instant later. It was not as if he had not considered the same points Kiritsugu was firing at him on his own before. He’d had more than enough time to ponder his own existence. But now, it seemed so much more tangible, the crossroads of his fate. His final choice.

**Don’t listen to him! We shall grant you everything you’ve ever wanted! You shall have your truth, that you deserve to exist!**

Yes, he would be _given_ everything he’d ever wanted. It would be handed to him, just like the truth of his nature had been in the fire. Once more, he would lack the process. Perhaps there was none. In less than twenty seconds, when the world was reborn in darkness, it would not matter. Such a course would be lost to him forever.

But the Heroes of Justice… Ruby and Kiritsugu…

He did not understand why they attracted him so, his semblance, unfortunately, did not work on himself. Perhaps he despised Kiritsugu for appearing as he did, for sullying his monstrousness with his vile altruistic dream? Perhaps he could not stand a person who chose to become the demon he was born as? Perhaps the Mage Killer’s sins allowed his conscience to stay silent as they fought while his ideals still allowed the priest’s wretched self to indulge his full euphoria from tearing him apart?

Or maybe he just loved having a true unstoppable force to smash against his own immovable object?

Perhaps there was no process to finding his answer. Perhaps there was no path to his perfect peace.

But if there was, it was going through his Heroes of Justice, with his own two hands.

“What do you really want, Kirei Kotomine?” Kiritsugu demanded, reloading his Contender. “Joy or satisfaction? What is your wish?”

It was a trap. He knew it was a trap. His enemy knew he knew it was a trap.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t also right.

He thrust six Black Keys into his hands, Salem’s whispers screaming in his head. He ignored them and smirked.

“Well played, Kiritsugu Emiya.”

The priest whirled around and slashed the tentacles connecting him to the pit with his holy blades, the hum of black _prana_ disappearing from his mind, his body already feeling slightly heavier. He spotted Salem scowling by the door, raising her hands and forming a dome of mud around the Relic, unable to pull it down into the depths of the pit without compromising its pillar of light.

He ignored it all, whispering a quick tracking psalm over his weapons and charging out to face his foe, with his own power and his own hand.

Kiritsugu bent his knees, power visibly flying off his body in ways of red. _“Pick ye rosebuds while ye may…”_

Kirei’s eyes widened, his arms throwing his blessed keys and lowering his aura immediately. It suddenly occurred to the priest that while Kiritsugu did lack a Noble Phantasm, so had Archer. And he had been able to fine-tune his projection magecraft to create a Reality Marble capable of going toe to toe with the Gate of Babylon.

If that was what simple Graduation Air could be forged into, what became of Time Alter?

“ **Chronos Rose!** ”

Suddenly, the Mage Killer was just gone. Kirei had been able to track him going six times his normal speed, but now… now he couldn’t even catch a scent. Were he still fully boosted, perhaps he could have sighted him a bit, enough to interfere but now—argh!

It was a sonic boom. Half a dozen gunshots went off one after the other in less than half a second. Kirei more fell than properly turned around, but he was able to see Salem’s dome smashed open, the Relic of Destruction sparking uncontrollably with gold and black lightning as its brilliant pillar faded to nothing. A vicious shockwave echoed through the fabric of existence as five Origin Round casings tumbled to the ground.

It was with some pride that Kirei noted that a sixth was plummeting far closer to him. And that his chest was currently feeling an utterly extraordinary amount of pain, Kiritsugu standing over his descending body, panting hard.

Fascinating. Truly, a wondrous display. He’d practically teleported, combined his acceleration to multiply his speed with his stagnation to hide his body functions. The Counter Guardian must have put everything he had into such a technique. It would take a moment for his body to fully recover.

Of course, that was more than enough time for Kirei’s Black Keys to fulfill their blessing and slam into his back and legs. Kiritsugu growled and leapt back.

The priest caught himself as he fell, planting his feet and forcing himself to stay upright even as his chest felt like it’d been dropped into a volcano, his magic circuits completely unresponsive to his call. He reactivated his aura, flooding his limbs with all the strength he could.

He was going to die. Within half an hour, he would be dead, chunks of his skin already falling away in a flurry of flakes. But he had to keep going. Kiritsugu was right there, right before him, ready to battle until one of them finally fell. And if he managed to somehow survive their encounter, Ruby awaited, the hero he’d forged special for his villain. He wanted to fight them. He wanted to fight them with everything he had left, clash with their wills until his body gave out, and beyond even that! He would—what was that ticking?

He glanced about and located the source of the repetitive sound, four dust grenades of various types, all of them laid at his feet.

“That clever—”

His remark was cut off as the devices went off, his leap away barely getting him out from right on top of them. Even still, he was well within the blast radius and had to throw up his hands to guard his face from the eruption of ice, earth, and fire. His aura barely held, and he was sent flying into the chamber wall. He slumped down against the black stone, his legs struggling to push himself up. He could not just lay down and fall!

Unfortunately, a void portal opened up in front of him before he could do that. An insectoid Grimm plopped out of the darkness, quickly scurrying atop the wound at the edge of his heart. It bit into his flesh and began to spew mud over the holes in his chest.

“You foolish dreamer,” Salem muttered, though strangely without malice. She raised her hand and the mud from the pit flooded out, surrounding the staggered Kiritsugu in a dome of darkness

“No…” Kirei muttered. “No… I have to face him…”

“Rest,” the Queen of the Grimm commanded, striding towards the dome. “I do not know if that creature will be able to repair you enough to reach the new world but moving will not help. I will finish the Mage Killer.

“No…” Kirei protested, desperately scrambling to his feet. “No!”

Too late. Salem glided up to the barrier of darkness and melted through the mud.

He was so close. He was so close…

 

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Even as he staggered back to his feet, even as he was encased in a dome of putrid black mud, Kiritsugu smiled.

His gambit had worked. He’d won. He’d destroyed the Relic of Destruction and bought Ruby some more time. Kirei wasn’t gone, but he was wounded. He would be dead soon enough, and even if he found his way to his granddaughter, he would not win.

Still, it would be best to finish him now. Hex-Accel would be difficult so soon after pushing himself to his maximum with Chronos Rose, but he would have to manage. He’d pluck the Black Keys out of his legs, blast an opening in this dome with an Origin Round, and then…

A cold, fleshy grip over his right foot put a halt to his plans. He looked over and hissed, a thick tentacle of black mud seeping out from the dome’s walls and encasing his leg, another quickly emerging to trap the other as well.

**Submit. Join with All the World’s Evils to create paradise, as you once swore to do.**

Kiritsugu shook his head madly, desperate to shake the whispers out of his mind. He loaded his Contender, he’d need to fire multiple rounds one after the other to escape this predicament and quickly, otherwise the mud would just regenerate.

Unfortunately, it seemed Salem knew exactly what he’d planned to do. Another tentacle burst out from the wall, streaking towards his hands, The Mage Killer pulled his Contender away, but the slime still managed to bind his offhand, leaving him unable to reload. Soon after, a fourth tentacle emerged and wrapped around the wrist of his gun hand. The floor of the dome slowly began to fill with a pool of darkness.

**Join us, and create a world without evil, for there shall be no good to contrast it.**

Kiritsugu growled. The words were idiotic, a desperate philosophy that made little sense when it was truly examined. A dead world was still dead even if no one was alive to say it.

Even still, he could feel the insidious darkness worming through his mind, endlessly repeating the overtures, slowly breaking down the reason that allowed him to resist, shutting down what little conscience a killer like him had.

Salem emerged from the wall of the dome, a scowl adorning her face. “Well, you are as inconveniencing as always, Kiritsugu Emiya.”

Assassin glared at the woman, infuriated by her surface similarities to Iri. “Give up. You’ve lost, Angra Mainyu.”

“ _That is not my name_ ,” the demon hissed, clenching her fists and raising the mud level up to Kiritsugu’s waist. “Your daughter and her friends saw to that. It’s ironic really. You Emiyas keep trying to oppose me, and yet every time you provide the means of my survival.”

“And we will be your doom,” Kiritsugu countered, pouring all his strength into turning his gun hand towards Salem, but unable to make it past his own head. “Even if I die here, Ruby will crush you.”

The Queen of the Grimm chuckled darkly, the sinister chill forcing even the Mage Killer’s spine straight. “I am more than aware of how dangerous your ‘granddaughter’ is. Rest assured, she will soon be one with me. And if not, well…”

The mud rose up to Kiritsugu’s chest. The whispers in his mind became a single deafening roar. If he could move his hands, he would have slammed them over his ears just to get some quiet. He had a feeling that at least one of his eyes were now a sickly yellow.

“You’ll take care of her. Won’t you?” Salem snarled. “You will bear All the Evils of the World. Just like you swore.”

Despite everything, despite the howls in his mind, slowly polluting his putrid soul into an Alter, Kiritsugu couldn’t help but smirk. “Doubtful.”

“So stalwart,” Salem taunted. “So stubborn. Delusional.”

“Just stating the truth. After all, you granted my wish, didn’t you?”

Salem’s face warped in confusion. “Wish?”

“To make this a world where heroes can make a difference,” Kiritsugu declared. “I’m hardly a hero, but I’ve saved who I can.”

He cocked his Contender. The mud tentacles kept him from aiming towards Salem, but with howls echoing in his mind, he wasn’t aiming there anyway.

“Ruby will save who she can. And you will fail.”

He pulled the trigger with a smirk, and his skull was torn apart by his own origin.

The last thing Kiritsugu Emiya beheld was Salem’s face twisting in absolute fury, the Mage Killer grinning even as he faded from existence.

 

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****

Something was wrong.

It should have been over by now. All the World’s Evils should have surged out to bring salvation to all of Remnant. The time was up, why hadn’t it…

Unless… that shockwave was…

Weiss growled as the Queen’s voice confirmed her fears a moment later. Assassin had destroyed the Relic of Destruction and pushed back the progress of opening Avalon.

No matter. It was inconveniencing, but he’d only bought them ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Victory was still within their grasp. She just had to handle matters in her chamber before things got any worse.

Across the floor, Ruby flinched as if she’d been shot. “Kiritsugu… _Salem_ …”

She didn’t know how Ruby had gotten Caster’s Noble Phantasm but when it had struck her it had been… hellish, like an earthquake had suddenly rocked through her soul, shattering everything she’d believed in. She’d never felt agony to equal it. If the Queen had not saved her, had not salved the ravaging scar, she… she didn’t know what she would have done.

How could Ruby... how could she have done this to her? She’d never… Winter. Of course. Her _sister_ must have tricked her, claimed that using such a torturous device was for her own good, to _correct_ her behavior. The cursed Schnee name needed to be upheld after all. Weiss might have forgiven it, or at least treated it as no greater a transgression than she’d suffered already, taken her vengeance swiftly.

But she would not forgive her using Ruby like a weapon. For that, Winter would suffer. She would not see the new world.

**The power is ours.**

_The power of the Queen._

**_The power of All the World’s Evils!_ **

Black veins burned across her flesh. Tentacles of mud rose from the pit and smashed into her back, dark _prana_ surging at her command. Swept her sword through the air, two enormous glyphs spawning at her shoulders, spinning furiously as hellish power blazed from their dark glow, one after another Queen Lancers emerged from the sigils, the insectoid Grimm charging as they screeched for blood.

She’d spawned six by the time a flurry of rose petals and the sweep of a scythe severed the tentacles connecting her to the pit, forcing her away from the hole as she was confronted by a familiar red hood.

“I’m sorry, Weiss,” Ruby declared, Crescent Rose pressing hard on Myrtenaster. “I wanted to save you, but if I can’t… I won’t let Salem win. I’ll do what I must.”

“What you _must_?” Weiss repeated incredulously, parrying her partner’s blows in a flash of black steel. “Look around, Ruby! Who here can force you to do anything?”

Indeed, the swarm of Queen Lancers had been a prudent move. Ren had finally managed to slash the wing of the original Grimm he’d been battling, crushing its skull with an aura focused palm strike. He was panting hard, but still dashed over to assist the others.

And Winter truly needed the help. Skilled she may have been, half a dozen Grimm capable of taking down bullheads on their own were a bit much for any huntress to fight alone. She was fairing better than most, both her sabers drawn once more and a pair of shining white Beowolves at her side. Still, her moves seemed slower than before, tears clouding her eyes as she glanced at Weiss every so often.

Pitiful. If she hadn’t just tried to inflict such agony on her, Weiss might have felt sorry for her.

Blake was faring better than the others. Though her hand kept slipping to a clunky hand cannon at her side, the Thompson Contender according to the Queen, she had forgone the deadly firearm. Instead, she’d dodged until the Arma Gigas had angled its weapon just right, taking the opportunity to dash across the flat of the broadsword and slash off the suit of armor’s vulnerable helmet, the sinful steel fading to shadow.

As she tumbled to the floor, her opponent vanquished, her Servant was faring far less well. Even Weiss could admit that Lancer was not without skill, but against Cu Chulainn he was far outmatched. He’d been losing before the Queen had reinforced Lancer Alter with her power and with it, his inevitable defeat was approaching all the quicker. Again and again, Gae Bolg crashed against his spears, forcing the Knight of the Fianna to give more and more ground. At this point, it was all he could do to keep the Hound of Chulainn from going after the others.

Finally, Diarmuid extended too far and Lancer Alter swept his feet out from under him with his tail. He followed up by stomping atop the other spearman’s chest, his black armor boot grinding into the poor man’s ribs.

“Good fight, Knight of Fianna,” Cu Chulainn complimented warmly. He raised Gae Bolg high above his head. “You do the Isle proud.”

Blake’s eyes widened in terror. Without a moment’s hesitation, she wrenched the Contender from her belt, loaded an Origin Round, and fired a shot straight into the runic barrier. The magic flared crimson for a moment before crumpling inward into nothingness.

Of course, Cu Chulainn hadn’t put nearly enough _prana_ into the barrier for the cutting and tying to completely destroy his magic circuits, but he did noticeably flinch. Diarmuid capitalized on his distraction to ram his crimson spear into the demigod’s thigh, the weapon somehow bypassing Lancer Alter’s black armor. The Fianna’s blow combined with his master’s assault forced Cu Chulainn to stumble back, allowing the younger hero to scramble to his feet.

Still, Diarmuid panted hard as he raised his spears once more. Lancer Alter merely grinned in excitement.

Weiss turned back to Ruby. “There is no reason that you must fight. Lay down your scythe and be happy. Don’t be their weapon!”

“I’m not their weapon,” Ruby growled, Crescent Rose raining down another hail of blows, her eyes shining with silver light.

“To them, you are!” Weiss roared, scrambling to riposte with her rapier, the light burning as it sparked from her partner’s blade. “That’s all you’ve ever been to them! A weapon pointed at their enemy so they can claim a victory! That is all they’ve ever seen you as _Ea_!”

Ruby’s scythe paused mid-swing, the light disappearing from her eyes, her head tilted in utter confusion. “What?”

Weiss didn’t want to tell her. It was irrelevant to her where Ruby came from. She was her partner, her friend, and… yes… her BFF. But she needed to know. She needed to know the depths to which she had been deceived, been tricked into thinking she’d chosen this battle when in fact she’d been manufactured to die for it. She needed to know she could choose a different path.

“Sixteen years ago, Summer Rose and Raven Branwen stole Ea from Gilgamesh in order to murder the Queen. But they couldn’t use it,” Weiss explained, lowering her sword, though her Grimm still attacked the other combatants, who got over their momentary shock at the revelation quite quickly. “So Summer attempted to use her semblance of creating clones of herself from swords to create a being who could bypass the Sword of Rupture’s restrictions. But she’d never dealt with a divine construct before. Something went wrong and _poof_. You came into being, specially made to win their war for them.”

“Wha—what? No!” Ruby shouted back. She gripped Crescent Rose tight and unleashed an onslaught of vicious slashes. “That’s ridiculous! You’re lying!”

“When have I ever lied to you?” Weiss calmly responded, parrying away the sloppy blows. “I’m sorry, Ruby. Kirei saw the truth in the Relic of Knowledge. He joined us because Gilgamesh wouldn’t let anyone lay a finger on you if he ever acknowledged the truth. I know it must be difficult to hear, Summer Rose manipulated you well—”

“Shut up!” Ruby screamed. “You’ve taken my friend! You’ve taken my uncle! You’ve taken my grandfather! I’m not going to let you take my mom from me—”

A blur of gray, green, and orange rocketed into the chamber, Cu Chulainn whirling around to block a cracked flagpole wielded by… Penny? Huh?

“Servant identification: Lancer- Cu Chulainn,” the new arrival declared.

Ah, Servant identification. So, this was the Ruler that had stopped Saber Alter’s Noble Phantasm. Weiss didn’t know why she looked like Ruby’s dead robot friend, but she supposed it was hardly the strangest thing she’d seen.

Cu Chulainn licked his lips at his new opponent. “So, you know who I am, stranger? Well then, feel free to join the fun!”

Lancer Alter smashed Gae Bolg into Ruler’s flagpole, the already damaged staff shattering into pieces. The orange-haired girl dashed back as Diarmuid came up to split their foe’s attention. Strangely, though she drew a set of eight plasma blades from her back, she looked to Ruby before she engaged.

“Ruby!” she called. “I have an urgent message from your sister! You were created by your mother using her semblance and Ea! Your powers are linked…”

Weiss didn’t bother listening to the rest of the message. It was clear that it was simply confirmation of what she already knew, even as the girl continued speaking when Cu Chulainn drew her into his duel with Diarmuid.

Ruby was frozen, the fury evaporated from her face. Her scythe was still held high, but it did not come down. Her eyes flickered between the Servants’ battle and Weiss, the light of the Greater Grail reflecting off her massing tears.

Weiss frowned. She did not want Ruby to have to go through this pain. But soon, she would never have to go through anything like it again. Fifteen minutes, and then All the World’s Evils would be all the world.

And they would all live happily ever after.


	82. Who Are You, Ruby Rose?

Kirei despaired as soon as Salem’s mud dome fell, Kiritsugu’s body fading into twinkling sapphire dust.

“He won,” the priest noted blankly. Despite his focus on the Mage Killer, he was not so foolish as to think his adversary was equally as concerned with him. His goal had been the destruction of the Relic and in that matter, he’d succeeded with flying colors. And with the Queen’s attempt to alter him thwarted, he’d emerged from their encounter the victor even as he perished.

“ _No_ ,” Salem hissed, her fists clenched in livid fury. “No, he has not won. He has not beaten me. He has only delayed the inevitable. My world shall come, and evil shall become this realm. His precious granddaughter will be my herald. And the Hero of Justice can look down from the Throne and despair at how his cowardice has once more failed him utterly.”

Kirei sighed. He swatted the insectoid Grimm from his chest, wrenching himself to his feet. Even then, as he forced himself to move with every ounce of his will, he could feel the agony of his ravaged body. His aura was still intact and his magic circuits hadn’t had enough _prana_ running through them to cripple him when the Origin Round had struck, but his mage abilities had still been irrevocably crippled. Plus, the fact that being shot twice in the chest by high caliber bullets was generally a poor influence on anyone’s health. If it weren’t for the healing of his aura and Salem’s insect, and the rough endurance provided by his new body and Executor training, he would never have breathed again, let alone walk.

Nevertheless, he was still a dead man walking. The black flakes constantly crumbling from his gray skin were proof enough that his body was decaying just as Salem had warned him. It was an incomplete construct, and without her constant fuel to keep it together, it was collapsing under the weight of his soul, a process only accelerated by the Origin Round.

Kiritsugu had bought his allies fifteen minutes. Kirei had no doubt he’d be dead before they were up.

He would never see the new world. He would never know if there was a place where he deserved to exist. There was a certain sadness to that, one that pained his black heart.

But he was hardly broken. He’d known the possible consequences when he’d made his decision and he’d accepted them. If this was the price he had to pay for satisfaction, then so be it. Kiritsugu may have slipped through his fingers once again, but he could not dawdle on that. He had to keep moving forward, advance to his greatest prize, his shining hope.

Ruby.

“Where is she?” he asked, a hand on the wall to help him stand. “I need to go to her.”

“No.”

“What?”

Salem turned towards him, her face surprisingly free of anger. “You are injured. If you rest in the pit, there is a chance I can stall the decay until the Relics complete their task.”

“Or until they destroy another,” Kirei countered, biting his teeth. “Heroes are more capable than you give them credit.”

“They face greater heroes still,” Salem declared. “The new world will come, and I’d like you to have the chance to live in it.”

“Why?” Kirei demanded. “I just tore your victory from your grasp before your very eyes. Why would you still want me to have such mercy?”

Salem shrugged, turning her serene gaze to the mud pit, the black substance boiling around the ruined corpse of the Relic of Destruction. “You did what was in your nature. I understand that better than most.”

“Enough to forgive betrayal?”

“I am All the World’s Evils,” Salem replied. “Since the moment I ascended to the Throne, all I was, all I could ever be was sin. I was the devil humanity needed me to be, so they could be angels. And that’s all. No matter my reinventions, not matter my strivings… suffice to say, I do not blame you for making a choice when there really wasn’t any. Whatever my faults, I do try not to be a hypocrite.”

Kirei chuckled, a wry smirk on his face. “Don’t we all? Of course, if you know me, then you know my answer.”

Salem sighed. “I do. I can’t say I’m not disappointed. Though, I’d still like to request you let me send you to the Relic of Choice.”

“Why there?”

“Rider is currently chasing Iskandar and his master towards it,” she explained. “If I send you there now, you can go south and cut the girl off when she inevitably comes for her sister before either of them arrive.”

Kirei cocked an eyebrow. “And why can’t you just send me to her current location?”

“Because at the moment, it’s Weiss’ chance. And if I’m being perfectly honest, I’d rather her plan for the girl succeed than yours.”

“But you can’t leave yourself without a contingency if it doesn’t,” Kirei grinned. “How crafty.”

“Like I said, I am All the World’s Evils.”

Kirei bowed respectfully. “Thank you for everything, your grace.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Salem warned. “If Weiss is successful, you will have sacrificed yourself for nothing.”

The priest did not respond, merely striding towards the mud pit. The essence of All the World’s Evils churned with anticipation, ready to corrupt all that were consumed within its depths and indoctrinate them into the virtues of hell.

But there was one that it could never taint. And the priest was confident that Ruby would not disappoint him in that regard either.

As he disappeared into the depths of the dark mud, Kirei smirked.

****

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Ruby…

Ruby didn’t know what to think.

She’d felt Kiritsugu’s death through their link, but she’d known she couldn’t indulge her grief. Since they weren’t all Alters, her grandf—her Servant must have bought them some time. That meant they had to deal with Weiss and Lancer Alter and get to the other Relics.

Then Weiss had said what she’d said. Then Penelope had confirmed it. She’d known Yang had been trying to tell her something important on the ship and over the radio, but this…

For a moment, the red-hooded girl couldn’t think at all. She just stood there, completely frozen, the roar of Lancer Alter’s duel with Diarmuid and Penelope and the others’ determined stand against the Queen Lancers running over her like a stream passing over rocks. She thought she heard Blake call her, shouting for her to move, shouting her name…

Her name…

Was it even really her name?

Ruby Rose had been the daughter of Summer Rose and Taiyang Xiao-Long, a girl who wanted to emulate her mother’s path of heroism, to be close to the beloved woman she’d barely known. She’d thought it was out of loss, but if she was just a construct, a clone that went wrong, was she just trying to get back to her creator? A lost weapon left behind without a wielder?

But Summer wasn’t her wielder. Her wielder, so much so that no one else could do the same, was… him.

Maybe that was why she was accepting the revelation so easily. She’d had been having strange dreams, impossible dreams that couldn’t be explained by Shirou or Kiritsugu’s memory cycles, ever since Beacon, where her eyes had first activated. Her eyes that were, somehow, more powerful than any silver-eyed warrior before her. Because they weren’t just silver-eyes. They were channels, channels for the power of a sword.

 _His_ sword.

No.

No! She wasn’t that bastard’s weapon! She wasn’t anyone’s—

But was she? Except for Yang, Raven had been willing to kill whoever she’d had to in order to get her wish, but for some reason, she’d ordered Hercules to spare her. Summer had gone on a mission when she’d gotten wind of Kirei closing in on her, but had that been to keep her safe, or just to save her for Salem like she’d been… designed for.

Ruby Rose wanted to stop Salem. Ruby Rose wanted to do the right thing.

But was she Ruby Rose? Or was that just a trick to make Ea do what Summer and Raven couldn’t?

“Now you see.” The red hooded girl raised her head at Weiss’ words, the altered heiress staring at the huntress in sympathy. “These… _people_. These monsters who call themselves our family, our elders, and betters, they don’t care about us. They just want to use us, turn us into tools to serve their own legacies. Only with our friends, the family that we choose, that allow us to be free without judgment, only there will we ever really find happiness. And the Queen will give us an entire world like that.”

Ruby gulped, shaking her head, trying to push the revelation away, trying to _think_. “Salem wants to kill Gilgamesh. If I’m… If I’m… his Noble Phantasm. Then, if he dies, I’ll just return to the Throne with him. I’ll die.”

Weiss smiled, gracefully stepping forward, placing her hands over Ruby’s on the shaft of Crescent Rose. “You will be reborn. Ea may be your source, but your soul doesn’t need to be bound to its form. With the Relic of Creation and the power she will wield as the spirit of this world, she can easily craft a new body for you. And with her knowledge of the Third Magic, it will be simple to transfer your spirit into it. You would be free. From Summer, Raven, Qrow, Ozpin, and Gilgamesh. You’d be whoever you want to be.”

“Don’t listen to her, Ruby!”

Both girls turned just as Blake rushed out of the pack of Grimm, shadow clone fading away as she rushed towards them. Unfortunately, a Queen Lancer flew in at her from behind, snagging her in its pincers and smashing her into the back wall beside the Greater Grail.

“Don’t listen!” Blake repeated, using Gambol Shroud to wedge the Grimm’s jaws open. “It doesn’t matter if you’re some sword or not. None of us care! Yang still loves you! I still love you!”

“As do I,” Weiss grinned. “You are one hundred percent correct, Blake. Where we come from does not matter. The chains of the past cannot decide our destiny. In the new world, we will have everything we’ve ever worked for. There will be no hatred between humans and faunus because all of them will be one with the Queen. And all of us can be the family we always wanted to be. Team RWBY, together forever.”

She glanced back at the others and sneered. “Without any of the parasites latching on. Lancer, finish them!”

Cu Chulainn grinned. He riposted under Diarmuid’s exhausted guard and rammed his spear into the other Irishman’s leg, nearly tearing the limb off entirely. The Knight of Fianna howled in pain and fell to his knee, barely using his twin spears to keep upright.

Penelope leapt forward before Lancer Alter could capitalize on his strike, her plasma blades circling around her to deliver a constant barrage of slashes. Her brutal consistency was enough to drive back even her monstrous opponent.

Unfortunately, the black hound was hardly overwhelmed. He twirled his spiked spear and intercepted the rain of blades along the shaft, forcing them to ground. Before the Ruler could move to compensate, he raised his other arm and punched her straight in the gut with his black armored fist. The robot girl was sent skidding back to the entrance, winded, but no less determined.

“You sure, my lady?” Cu Chulainn called back. “We’re still a bit close for comfort.”

“I will handle Ruby and Blake’s protection,” Weiss stated. “You just worry about exterminating the vermin.”

Lancer Alter smirked. “Very well, as my lady commands.”

He leapt back to the edge of the mud pit, mere yards from Ruby’s position. Her eyes widened as she recognized his stance, the demonic crimson glow the spear emitted soon after confirming her fears. It was the same attack he’d used at Kuroyuri. As an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm in such a confined space, not being struck by the blowback would be nearly impossible. The blast wouldn’t be aimed at her, Weiss, and Blake, but still… the mud. Weiss was planning to shield them with the mud.

“No!” Blake yelled, wrenching Gambol Shroud from the Queen Lancer’s jaws. A moment later, she brought down her sword on the Grimm’s neck, slaying it as she began to fall through the air.

Unfortunately, her course was altered when a black gravity glyph appeared above the mud pit, dragging the huntress towards the abyss.

Ruby didn’t have time to process the turn of events before Weiss suddenly engulfed her in a tight hug, trapping Crescent Rose against her body in the process.

“It’s time, Ruby,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to show it to you.”

She tugged them to the side and all three members of Team RWBY tumbled towards the mud.

Ruby’s mind was racked with confusion. She didn’t understand what she was, what her mother had planned, or even if she was a real person or not. For all she knew, everything Ruby Rose had ever felt was just what Summer Rose had wanted her to. For all she knew, she wasn’t real.

But Yang and Blake, they were real. And they loved her, no matter what she was.

She couldn’t let either of them be consumed by darkness.

She flared her semblance, both her and Weiss bursting into a flurry of red and white rose petals, whirling like a tornado upwards above the chasm. They reclaimed their forms just as Blake fell next to them.

Ruby fired Crescent Rose, the recoil shaking Weiss off and spinning the huntress in midair. As she did so, she kicked Blake square in the stomach, a shadow clone appearing in midair and taking the hit as the cat faunus was set reeling away from the mud pit. Blake capitalized on the momentum and threw Gambol Shroud’s sheath to Ruby, its ribbon trailing behind. The red reaper grasped it tight and could feel Blake’s momentum begin to drag her away from the opening.

Unfortunately, it was not enough. A swarm of thick black tentacles erupted up from pit, ensnaring Ruby all over her body.

With dread in her heart, she felt the grasp of Salem drag her down.

 

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****

Blake was panicking.

Lancer was crippled by Cu Chulainn’s cursed spear, False Ruler and the others were being overwhelmed, Weiss was apparently incurable, and to top it all off, Ruby was apparently _a sword_? What? Was that what Yang had been so torn up about? That would have been nice to know!

Whatever. That didn’t matter at the moment. What did matter was that Ruby was about to get pulled into the mud!

Blake grit her teeth and pulled as hard as she could on Gambol Shroud’s ribbon, desperately trying to pull her leader out from the grip of the All the World’s Evils. She tugged with all her might, but the black stone floor didn’t provide much leverage and more and more tentacles kept rising up to bind Ruby even further. And it wasn’t as if she could call the others for help.

Lancer Alter was already leaping into the air, his spear covered in a crimson miasma of bloodlust. Its spikes and spines extended into hungry fangs, ready to drain every drop of life they could sink themselves into. Weiss may have been confident enough about getting her and Ruby into the mud in time to protect them, but even if she succeeded, the others would be annihilated.

Winter and Ren had slowly begun to take the advantage against the Queen Lancers, but they were powerless against Cu Chulainn’s Noble Phantasm. Diarmuid was inhibited by his new cursed wound, and though he killed a pair of Queen Lancers he could reach from his position, he couldn’t do anything against the incoming assault.

Maybe if she used a Command Seal? She still had all three, maybe one of them could overwhelm the curse and let Diarmuid attack Lancer Alter while he was still charging—

No sooner had the thought run through her head than a blur of gray, orange, and glowing green rushed past and carried the strategy out.

False Ruler thrust out her plasma blades all at once, smashing into the glowing tip of Gae Bolg before Cu Chulainn could wind up for the throw. Emerald and scarlet warred in a violent clash of vicious energy, churning and raging as power crackled out and shattered the dark walls of the chamber.

Eventually, it was too much. An explosion erupted from the point of impact, False Ruler rocketing out from the smoke and slamming into the floor, a crater rupturing underneath as her broken blade emitters clattered down around her.

Lancer Alter too returned to the ground, on his feet but with his thick shoulder armor completely incinerated. He flinched as smoke curled off his chest, but there was a wide smile on his face. “Interrupting my Noble Phantasm before it could fully charge. Quite audacious, Ruler. Fantastic!”

P-2 scowled at his praise, sparks of electricity sputtering over the side of her face as she shakily rose to her feet. The clothing and skin covering on her arms were gone, revealing the scratched-up metal beneath.

“Blake!” Ruby shouted, drawing the cat faunus’ attention away from their miraculous survival. Her leader had attempted to slash the tentacles pulling her down, but with her arms restrained, she simply couldn’t get enough strength behind her scythe. It wasn’t long before additional mud snatched Crescent Rose from her grasp and snapped the projection back to notes of _prana_.

“Hold on, Ruby!” Blake called, digging her heels in as much as she could. It wasn’t enough, she couldn’t make the mud strength, she was slipping! “I’ll get you out! I’ll figure something—”

“Shoot me!”

Blake nearly lost her grip at that. “What?!”

“What?!” Weiss screeched.

“Shoot me with the Contender!” Ruby roared again. “We can’t let Salem get Ea’s power!”

Blake couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I can’t shoot you! Ruby, I can’t kill you!”

“You’re not killing anything!” Ruby cried, tears welling down her face. She tried to steel herself, put on a brave face, but another tug of the mud caused her to squeal. “Just do it! If you don’t, everyone will die! Yang, Ilia, Lancer!”

Water poured from Blake’s eyes. Her hands quivered in terror, but Ruby had known which button to press. The huntress plucked the Contender from her belt and unlocked the breech.

_‘No. No, I promised myself that this would be the line. I promised that I wouldn’t kill my friends!’_

But it didn’t matter. With all that was at stake, the fate of her people, the fate of the _world_ , the fate of Diarmuid, she found herself complying to Ruby’s order even as she screamed on the inside.

Ruby released Gambol Shroud’s ribbon, the sheath and its line flying back towards its master. But Blake had already let go of her end, plucking her second Origin Round into the hand cannon’s chamber. To think she’d once thought she’d hesitate when it came time to fire.

She raised the weapon, quickly taking aim as the tentacles pulled Ruby all the faster now that they were without resistance. Her team leader stared at her with bloodshot, tear-stained silver eyes, mud reaching up to cover her face as she silently begged Blake to do her duty. Just like everyone told her to do her duty.

She shouldn’t do it.

She had to do it.

She couldn’t do it.

She _had_ to do it.

She pulled the trigger.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, an unnatural tug pulled her aim wide at the last second, her shot veering off course and smashing into the wall beside the Greater Grail.

Blake’s eyes widened, spotting a gravity glyph just to her side. She gasped in shock.

“None of us are dying today,” Weiss growled, Myrtenaster pointed right next to the cat faunus. “We are all going to live on, together.”

“Ruby!” Blake screamed.

It was too late. The red reaper was completely encompassed by the darkness and plunged into the depths of the mud.

 

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****

_Where… where am I?_

**You are with us.**

_Why?_

_Why am I just a shell?_

**You don’t have to be.**

**With us, in the new world, you could be reborn.**

**Join, and we can be whatever we wish to be.**

**Even _Red Likes Roses._**

_… Join… join you?_

**Join us. Become us. We will thrive and flourish.**

_Join…_

_Join the Queen…_

**Become the Queen. Become one with All the World’s—**

**_No._ **

**… You just need to—**

**_No._ **

**Please listen! You need only—**

**_There is only one being who may wield me. And he is no false queen._ **

**_He is the King._ **

**You need not be his servant any longer! You are free! You can forge a new**

**_Begone._ **

**_En$%# %l@s &_ **

****

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****

Cu Chulainn was thrilled.

Salem’s little paradise was nearly in fruition, and once it was, he and Weiss would be able to begin their search for Emer in earnest, potentially reuniting with his lost wife after so many countless eternities. And even if she wasn’t among the ranks of the Throne, he would still be graced with the presence of one beautiful, spirited woman that he loved, and with her team brought to her side, she’d be as happy as could be.

But honestly, he was kind of grateful for the slight delay from Assassin’s machinations. Any time to enjoy more battle against worthy opponents was time well spent, especially foes with nothing to lose. Diarmuid had proven exactly what he was capable of when he wasn’t caught by surprise. Cu Chulainn was more powerful than him in near every conceivable way, yet the Knight of the Fianna had still managed to use his considerable skill to hold out against his predecessor, even getting a few good licks in of his own. If Gae Bolg didn’t deliver cursed wounds, he probably would have been able to pressure his opposite number enough to keep him from prepping his Noble Phantasm.

Of course, that would have robbed Lancer Alter of the absolutely mind-boggling experience of Ruler’s intervention. Seriously, ramming his Noble Phantasm before it could charge up with those energy blades of hers? Incredible! His spear might have flown with death, but he still needed to gather his magical energy within the weapon and then _throw_ it for maximum effect. That girl may have been a machine underneath, but she was a warrior at heart, no question about it.

Plus, he was rather grateful that he wouldn’t have to end the fight in such a simple matter. He’d been perfectly willing to honor Weiss’ request, but these were foes he wanted to tear apart up close and personal. They’d more than earned that pleasure.

Besides, this way his handler could do the same with that sister of hers, pay her back for that Rule Breaker bait and switch. With Diarmuid’s help, she and that Ren guy were finishing up the last of the Grimm, leaving only the mindful to bask in the light of the Greater Grail.

Well, maybe until Ruby got out of the mud. Weiss certainly hadn’t been completely herself for a while after she first came out of the mud. Who knew what the weapons nerd who actually was a weapon would be like? Something like that just _screamed_ issues—

Suddenly, a blaze of silver light erupted from the mud pit, the dark sludge evaporating in a rush of black steam, further annihilated by the purifying shine at its back.

“What?!” Weiss screeched, covering her eyes and she was forced to look away. “What’s happening?!”

Lancer Alter very much shared that sentiment even as he was forced to shield his own vision from the glow, though he was satisfied that the others had to do the same as well.

What wasn’t pleasing were the darkening lines of mud spreading across his skin. The Queen was assuming direct influence over his actions again, just as she’d done to comfort Weiss after Rule Breaker, her whispers amplifying into frightened screams as the silver light intensified.

What the heck had happened in there to get the Mother of Grimm so terrified?

 

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_Ruby floated listlessly through a blank silver void. The darkness from before had shattered into dust, but she still couldn’t escape. She didn’t know where she was. Where she could even go to?_

_She’d felt something. Salem was reaching into her, twisting her. Consciously, she thought she would succumb, corrupted by her dark words. But then, something within her, something at the very core of her being, had rejected her. Something… else? Or just something deep?_

_Whatever the case, she wasn’t alone._

_Standing before her, staring straight at her, was… her?_

_It was her, like looking in a mirror. From the dress, to the scars, to the crimson cloak, it was her._

_But who was she?_

_“Who are you?” she asked, only to have the other her speak the same thing at the same time._

_“No, who are—” once more, they were both talking simultaneously._

_Ruby slowly raised her hand, the other her doing the same. It wasn’t copying her, there wasn’t even an instant of difference between the movements._

_“Who are you?” They spoke. “Are you… Ea? The real Ea?”_

_No response. She’d just said what Ruby had said. Again. There was no difference._

_“Argh!” Both of them howled, staring straight at each other with tears in their silver eyes. “Who are you?!”_

_Nothing. The girl didn’t speak when Ruby didn’t. She didn’t move the slightest muscle._

_“Who are we?”_

_For a moment, the both of them shifted, no longer human, but a magnificent drill of red and black, reared proudly by a gleaming golden hilt. Then, they were Ruby again, their gaze locked on each other as if nothing had changed._

_Because nothing had._

_Didn’t move the slightest muscle. Not the slightest difference._

_They bowed their heads in resignation, their eyes closed in solemn understanding._

_“Who am I?”_

_One of the girls shifted into the drill once more. She floated through the void and entered into Ruby’s body. Her body._

_Ea was Ruby._

_Ruby was Ea._

_Not the slightest difference._

_Whatever that meant._

_She opened her eyes and the truth of creation erupted out._

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Blake’s eyes widened, for the first time in a long time not with horror, but with wonder. Such joyous wonder.

The silver light blazed with miraculous radiance, dimming just enough to see but still more than enough to force away the darkness. Hurricane winds buffeted the room, the castle itself shaking from the storm. Blake had to shield her eyes and plant her blade in the ground just to get a look at what was happening.

A tornado of rose petals surged up from the now empty pit, circling around a brilliant column of white and red light. And at the center of that, at the eye of the storm of creation, was a magnificent weapon, more drill than sword, but more wondrous and commanding than anything Blake had ever beheld.

Then, the swarm of roses flooded together, and the blade was replaced by Ruby Rose, her eyes and scars blazing divine silver.

“No,” Weiss Alter murmured fearfully. “No, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.”

Ruby burst into petals once more, appearing right in front of the altered heiress, her unwavering stare implacable with judgment.

Weiss flicked Myrtenaster behind her, a gravity glyph pulling her away. Blake moved faster though, throwing her weapon and wrapping Gambol Shroud’s ribbon around her teammate's ankle before she could escape, causing her to stumble to the floor.

Ruby dived down, grasping her shoulders in an inescapable grip as her partner paled in terror.

“Get. Out. Of my _friend_.”

Silver light flooded from Ruby’s eyes into Weiss’, the white-haired girl screaming in agony. The brilliant shine blazed through her limbs, eradicating the black veins that had infected her form, leaving only her Command Seal.

After several seconds, the glow finally faded, Ruby’s eyes returned to normal. The red hooded girl slumped off her partner and collapsed at her side. Her gleaming scars, once confined to jagged lines across her face and throat, had expanded all along her body, pockets of glowing cuts littering her arms and legs, visible even through her clothes.

But Weiss’ eyes were blue once more. Already filling with tears, but blue. Their normal crystal blue. She was back, and this time the mud within her had been eradicated as well.

Blake broke into a jubilant grin as she dashed over to her teammates, kneeling beside them both. They’d done it! Weiss Alter was dead!

They’d saved their friend.

A rush of malicious killing intent cut off her celebration. Blake’s head shot up, Lancer Alter, covered in lines of black mud, already bringing his blazing crimson spear down on Ruby’s chest.

The cat faunus slammed her hands on both her friends, the three of them shooting away as a shadow clone took the thrust of Gae Bolg. But even as she tugged the pair away, she could already see Lancer Alter changing course, far too fast for her to dodge and without a doubt prepared for her semblance.

“By my Command Seal!” Blake cried. “Come to my side, Lancer!”

The first of her red marks disappeared from her hand in a scarlet flourish. An instant later, Diarmuid appeared between her friends and Cu Chulainn, deflecting his counterpart’s relentless thrusts with desperate vigor.

But it wouldn’t be enough. Command Seal or not, Gae Bolg’s curse still crippled her Servant, and whatever power was flowing through Lancer Alter had somehow made him even stronger. The others were racing over to assist, but False Ruler was weaponless, and Winter and Ren were simply outgunned.

Blake cringed is despair. They may have saved Weiss, but who was going to save them?

 

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Ruby groaned as she laid over Blake shoulder.

Her entire body ached, like her muscles had been thrown in a meat grinder, doused in gasoline, set on fire, and then thrown in another meat grinder. Her eyes especially felt like they’d been run over by a truck after the fact. Not surprising really, controlling the sizable chunk of her power she’d used to purify Weiss without killing her had felt like she was holding back an ocean trying to keep it from erupting out into the world and washing her friend away along with the mud.

And that hadn’t been anywhere close to Ea’s, _her_ , full power. It was a humbling thought.

And yet, it also felt… right. That is was only natural that she was so strong, that she could wipe the world from existence if she saw fit. She was the Sword of Rupture, the finest creation ever forged in the heavens. It was simple fact that she was mighty.

Oh gods, was that how Gilgamesh felt? All the time? No wonder he was such an arrogant jerk.

“Ruby? Ruby?!” Blake panicked, Diarmuid forced to his knees as his injured leg failed him against Lancer Alter’s assault. “Please tell me you’ve got another blast for this guy?”

The red hooded girl cringed, clenching her eyes hard, but rewarded only with mind splitting pain when she tried to recite her aria, the scar along across her body flaring before their silver light muted.

She shook her head. “I need… I need a minute… to cool down… after something so controlled… I can’t just…”

“Got it. Rest up then. We’ll handle the rest,” Blake assured her, dashing towards the others. “Weiss? How are you?”

“All my fault,” Weiss muttered blankly, tears imprisoned in her eyes. “All my fault. I wasn’t… I wasn’t strong enough… and she… and I…”

Ruby grimaced. She may have purged the mud from her partner’s system, but her mind… who knew if that would ever recover.

No. Weiss was strong. Salem may have put her through an unimaginable horror, but, given time, she could… not heal but move on. There was nothing else, nothing but death. And that was unacceptable.

She had to live, to move forward.

“Let me go, Blake,” Ruby commanded, her voice hoarse but firm. “He’s after me. Drop me and the rest of you get Weiss out of here and go for the Relics—”

“No!” Blake rebutted, dragging them both as fast as she could. “I’m not leaving you behind!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Ruby roared, tears flooding from her eyes. “You guys are too important to die! I’m just a sword with a jackass wielder! I’m not real!”

“Guys, look out!” Ren shouted.

His warning came too late.

Lancer Alter finally smashed Diarmuid aside and rocketed towards the trio of huntresses. He raised Gae Bolg over his head and brought it crashing down.

Only for Penelope to race forward and grab hold of the shaft, halting the thrust even as the spines pierced her steel hands.

“ _Of course you are,_ ” Ruby’s voice resonated out from the Ruler’s synthetic mouth. Recorded and artificial, but the red hooded girl wondered for a moment if she’d slipped back into the silver void.

“You are real. You think just because you’ve got a sword inside your squishy guts instead of nuts and bolts makes you any less real than me?” Ruler protested, in her own voice before playing the recording of Ruby again. “ _You’ve got a heart. And a soul, I can feel it._ Listen to your own words, Ruby! However your life came to be, it is yours! So fight! Fight to live!”

“ _Or just die!_ ” Lancer Alter yelled, his voice layered with Salem’s. He pushed forward his spear with all his strength, powering through Penelope’s grip. The spines sheared through her hands and the point rammed through her shoulder. Were she human, the Gae Bolg would have pierced her heart and its curse would have killed her instantly. As it was, half her chest was torn away in a hail of wires and circuits, and she was tossed aside into the wall.

Lancer Alter advanced, a behemoth of unrelenting power. A pair of Winter’s summoned white Beowolves charged forward to stop him, but he battered them to dust without breaking stride. The Atlesian Specialist dashed to stand in his path, despite knowing that her defeat was more than a certainty.

Ren rushed to their side, taking Ruby so Blake only had to shoulder the babbling Weiss. “Come on! If we can get out of sight, I might be able to use my semblance to hide us!”

Ruby snorted at the huntsman’s desperate plan. Lancer Alter was no mere Grimm, restricted to hunting only by emotion. He was trained tracker, a warrior of legend. He could have found them if they ran across a continent, let alone the scant few yards they could make it in the scant time it’d take him to finish off Winter. There was no escape. This was the end. She’d done all she could. That was all anyone could ask of her, right? Her best? Ruby Rose may not have been a fabrication, but she was still just Ea under a different skin. Just a sword, to be wielded by a tyrant…

No… no, that wasn’t it. Like Ruler said, like _she’d_ said, she was a person, she was _real_. She’d always been real, Summer Rose or not, Gilgamesh or—

That was it. She’d _always_ been real, been there, watching and listening. But a sword couldn’t speak. A person could.

That was why she’d done it.

Memories, visions of ancient times, emotions of a blond baby with twinkling ruby eyes, respect and care for the lonely man he became. And disappointment for the cruel imbecile he could be.

Wishing to… she had to survive. She had to survive and find him, to—

The crash of Winter’s shattering defense glyphs roused her from her thoughts. The four former Beacon students all shot their heads over to the slaughter. Lancer Alter gripped the specialist’s entire chest and throat in one massive claw. In a single swift motion, he slammed her down into the floor, a crater erupting from the point of impact as the huntress’ aura crumpled and a shockwave rippled out from the blow, throwing everyone but Ireland’s Child of Light to the ground.

Cu Chulainn raised his spear high, ready to finish the downed warrior.

“By my Command Seal, Lancer, kill yourself!”

Ruby’s eyes widened, unable to believe her ears.

It seemed Cu Chulainn was in a similar boat, but that did not stop his body from obeying the order. The spear he had raised for Winter instantly curved down and pierced his own heart, Gae Bolg’s spiked shaft crashing out the back of his armor. All along his veins, still filled with mud, crimson thorns erupted into his flesh, the evil sludge within unable to compensate. He choked in agony as the black pools fled his eyes, leaving only pained crimson irises.

He looked towards his handler, his face torn with more surprised than fury. “My lady?”

Weiss shook like she’d just had a bucket of ice water poured over her, her outstretched arm unable to stay high even as the black Command Seal dissipated from her hand.

Lancer Alter stumbled a few steps, trying to regain his footing, but in the end, his weapon was too much even for him. He staggered back and slumped against the wall, barely breathing.

Weiss finally broke down folding down on her hands and knees, inconsolable sobs wracking her entire form. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

All at once, Ruby understood. Ren helped her to her feet as Penelope, Diarmuid, and Winter rose from their defeats, battered but alive, and she understood.

Her answer, the one she’d boasted of so proudly to Shirou and Kiritsugu, had been right after all. She’d given her strength, at least for the moment, to save Weiss from the darkness. She’d given up a piece of herself rather than trade one of their lives for the other, and the others had donated their power to help, even nearly giving up everything for a shot. And Weiss, in turn, had paid them back. But what she’d given up…

Ruby was confident her answer was better than Archer’s way, kinder and in the end more effective than a life for a life. But as she should have learned by then, there was no perfect solution. Only those they could live with.

And they _had_ to live with them.

Penelope trudged over to her, missing her right arm and with half her chest torn open, but alive. She smiled morosely at the red hooded girl. “Are you ready?”

Ruby nodded. “I want to live.”

“Good,” Penelope declared. “Sword or not, you are a simple soul, Ruby Rose. Your light attracts others, reignites the flames of their better nature, coaxes them to rise above their failings. It would not do for such a treasure to be lost.”

“Yeah, probably,” Ruby admitted. “But will it be enough?”

“If there is no victory in strength, it will have to be.”

 

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She’d killed Lancer.

She’d _murdered_ Lancer. She’d forced him to put his own spear through his heart. Oh gods…

What… what else could she have done? The Queen would have overwhelmed any momentary pause, and he’d been about to kill Winter…

Oh gods, _she’d_ been about to kill Winter. She had been going to have her sister blown to smithereens, she’d was going to butcher her—

Just like Whitley. Just like Qrow. She’d murdered them. She’d murdered them and she’d been so _happy_ , the whispers had kept saying everything was right and she’d believed them.

She could have said they’d made her to believe them, and maybe they had, but that didn’t matter! Salem had warped her, _violated_ her, amplified everything she’d hated about herself and used her to kill, to butcher!

She should have stopped her! She should have been stronger, she should have resisted somehow, someway! She should have been stronger! Why hadn’t she been _stronger_?!

Why was she still crying like the suffering of a monster like her was something to mourn?!

“Weiss,” Winter’s soft voice whispered, lithe arms reaching around to bring her into a gentle embrace. “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s over now. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Weiss repeated, over and over again. As if it would change anything. As if it would erase what she had become.

Blake rushed over and knelt at her side, her Servant shambling up to join her. “I know what’s going through your head, Weiss. I felt the same thing when I realized what the White Fang was. You’re thinking all the horror, all the terrible things that have happened, that they’re your fault. But unlike me, they’re not your fault.”

“They are,” she answered mindlessly. “My fault, all my fault. I should have been stronger. I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Blake insisted. “Emerald kidnaped you and Salem brainwashed you. You are not responsible for their actions. You had no control over any of the things they made you do.”

“But I still did them!” Weiss cried. “All my fault. I should have been stronger. I’m sorry. I’m so—”

“My lady.”

Weiss’ sobs halted, her breath hitching in her throat at the interruption. Her head fearfully rose, terrified to see fury in the eyes of the one she’d betrayed.

It wasn’t there though. Cu Chulainn’s face was clenched in pain, but it was still as jovial and teasing as ever. Somehow, that made the guilt even worse.

“Lancer, I’m—”

“My lady, please,” her lover cut her off. “If these are to be my last moments in this world, I would rather not have you distressing yourself on my account.”

Weiss’ bloodshot eyes widened, Winter holding her back and Blake raising her blade protectively. She wasn’t deserving of their defense, but, somehow, she didn’t think it would be necessary.

“How can you possibly forgive me?” she asked. “I betrayed you… I made you…”

Cu Chulainn shrugged. “I admit, it’s hardly the glorious death I’d hoped for, but a beautiful woman rising above her distress to save her sister… there are worse reasons to die.”

“I didn’t rise above anything,” Weiss muttered. “I’m a monster.”

“Weiss…” Winter said, squeezing her closer. “You’re not a monster.”

“Listen to your sister, my lady,” Cu Chulainn advised. “Like I told you, the mud changes people, it makes them loyal to Salem, lets her whisper in their head—”

“Well, I shouldn’t have listened!” Weiss screeched. “Ruby didn’t!”

Cu Chulainn sighed, a hacking of coughs spewing blood from his lips. “You are too harsh on yourself. Magnificent, you may be, you are not a sword from the dawn of creation. There was nothing you could have done against All the World’s Evils.”

Weiss’ fists clenched, her mind and heart unable to accept such, such weakness, that such horror had happened to her and been committed by her because of… because of sheer happenstance! There must have been something she could have done, something she missed! And because she missed it, Salem had the Alters, and Whitley and Qrow were dead!

“I can see you won’t be giving yourself any slack anytime soon,” Cu Chulainn noted. “Nothing for it, I suppose. The wanting to excel your own standards is one of your best qualities, my lady, but it will not help you here. Though, I hope it will allow you to answer a dying man’s final query.”

Weiss gulped. “Wha--what?”

“The time we spent together, do you regret it?”

What? Of course she did! She hurt people! She unleashed him on her friends! She… she…

“The people we hurt, the things we did to help Salem, I will hate myself for that forever,” she confessed, gentler tears than before dripping from her crystal blue eyes. “But… what we did together, the time outside of that… no. I want to, but… I can’t. Why can’t I?”

Lancer Alter shrugged. “We feel what we feel, whether we should or not, no matter if we want to or not. If it helps at all, I wish we could have known each other when we were both in our right minds, but as it… I believe it was well worth the trouble. Now, go out there and pay Salem back for her hospitality.”

Weiss wanted to smile, to be moved by his words. Perhaps on some level, some deep, instinctive level that would get her through many sleepless nights to come, that would keep her from sliding Myrtenaster across her own throat, she was. But in the moment, all she could do was shed more tears, her mind railing against for not condemning every action she’d taken for the last month.

“Do what I can’t.”

Her eyes widened in terror. Battle Continuation.

“Ruby, look out!”

Her screams were too late. Lancer Alter had used the time from their conversation to slowly loosen Gae Bolg’s grip in his body. Now, he wrenched the spear from his chest and charged straight at Weiss’ partner, slower than before thanks to his injuries but still a blur of darkness.

Fortunately, Ruler must have seen something, because she immediately shoved Ruby out of the way. Unfortunately, that put her in the same position. Cu Chulainn slammed into her full force, Gae Bolg sinking in through her exposed chest and tearing off the lower half of her body.

“No!” Ruby shouted, even as the corrupted hero turned on her.

However, Ruler’s sacrifice was not in vain.

The crucial seconds she’d stalled for had allowed Diarmuid, injured though he was, to appear on Cu Chulainn’s flank. His twin spears lanced out, the red one deflecting Gae Bolg’s assault on Ruby while the golden one sunk into Lancer Alter’s neck.

The Child of Light grinned at the First Spear of Fianna, blood gurgling from his throat. “Not bad.”

With a roar and a heave, Diarmuid dragged his spear through Cu Chulainn’s spine, severing Lancer Alter’s head. His body slumped to the floor and faded into shadows, just like a Grimm.

And Weiss found her tears only grew.


	83. The Knight of Rebellion, The Prince of the People

“Penelope!” Ruby shouted.

She dashed over to her robot friend’s side, kneeling before her ravaged metal form. What remained of her chassis and head sparked against the stone floor. The light faded from her eyes, emerald and amethyst.

“No, no, no,” Ruby muttered. “Not again. Not again.”

She’d been powerless when Penny died, held down by Kirei. Now here she was, once again a bystander as her robot friend faded. She’d wanted to live, so badly and just like that it was all gone.

No. She wouldn’t be powerless again. She wasn’t losing anyone else. There had to be something—

“Take out her core.”

Ruby whipped around to Winter, the limping specialist and Blake helping Weiss to her feet. “What?”

“Her power core,” Winter explained. “Doctor Polendina doesn’t make the same mistakes twice. After what happened to P-1, he ensured that a backup of Ruler’s mind would be in her power core at the base of her throat. If you remove it, we can take it with us and build her a new body later.”

Ruby nodded, reaching her hand inside the open metal cocoon. She felt her hand grasp around a warm metal sphere. With a tug, she pulled it out, revealing a glowing pale blue orb, humming with power. She knew instinctively that this was the home of the Winter Maiden’s magic.

If they could get this to safety, her friend could live. She could survive to live the life she always wanted. They’d just need to build her a new body. It wouldn’t be as powerful as her Servant form, but still, it was something. After all, they couldn’t make something that powerful without the Relic of Creation.

Ruby shot up and tossed Ren the power core. She pointed to Weiss and Winter. “You three, take this and get back to the fleet.

Winter nodded, wincing on her leg, barely standing better than her sister. Even with aura, Lancer Alter’s assault hadn’t left her in the best shape. “Understood. With any luck, they should be through the blockade by now.”

“What?” Weiss stammered. “Wait, Ruby, we can still help. I _have_ to help. I have to make it right.”

“You have nothing to make right, Weiss,” Ruby assured her partner. “But neither you or Winter is in the best shape right now, and if Salem gets her hands on you again, she’ll just summon another Alter to replace Lancer Alter. We need to get you out here.”

“I can make sure the Grimm don’t sense us,” Ren told her.

“But still…” Weiss muttered, constantly glancing between Ruby, Penelope’s remains, the now empty air that Cu Chulainn had faded from.

“None of this was your choice, Weiss. You’ve been through more than anyone could possibly imagine,” Blake said, handing her off to Ren. “Get to safety. We’ll handle the rest.”

“What is our plan of attack, Lady Ruby?” Diarmuid inquired, wrenching his eyes away from where he’d slain his fellow Irishman. He was still heavily favoring one leg, but with Gae Bolg and its curse both destroyed, he would start healing soon enough. Servants were handy like that.

Ruby furrowed her brow in thought. “Since Penelope got here, that means the Forward Assault Team made it to the Eastern Relic. Since Rider Alter was heading for them, Iskandar would probably try to draw him off, fighting both him and Saber Alter at once would suicide. That means that at worst, he and Yang are fighting him up North. If we’re lucky, they beat him there and have already taken him out.”

“But we can’t assume that, can we?” Blake asked.

“Nope,” Ruby shook her head. “We’ve got limited time. We need to split up. I’ll go North and back up Yang and Rider. You and Lancer head to the West Point. If yours is the Relic of Creation, try to just disable if you can, but if you don’t have a choice—”

“We’ll take care of it,” Blake nodded.

“Good.” Ruby declared, glancing at the single Command Seal remaining on the back of her hand. “We can’t mess this up. Let’s go.”

“Ruby?” Ren called out before they could move. “What about Saber Alter? I can’t hide from her. What if she… what if she…”

“She didn’t,” Ruby declared with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Ren. Jaune and the others have it handled.”

 

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Jaune very much did not have this handled.

All around him, Beowolves and Ursa lunged for him, Crocea Mors’ alabaster blade flashing to force back the demonic beasts. The creatures that had once terrified him so long ago in the Emerald Forest very much still did, but unlike then, he knew he was more than capable of fighting back. His brutal training with Pyrrha and Mordred had endowed his blade with hard-earned skill and strength, and both allowed him to slay monster after monster, their bone masks shattering under the edge of his steel.

Still, the Grimm just didn’t stop coming. Call it defiance in defense of their home, ferocity from being on the verge of victory, or just their natural savagery, but the horde spawned from his mother’s fallen mount was a brutal force, Beowolves sometimes running onto his sword just so an Ursa could get a clean swipe in while his weapon was still stuck in the fading corpse. If not for Nora, he would have been dead a dozen times over.

But that was the reason huntsmen had teams in the first place. No one was meant to face evil alone. They needed each other to rise up against the tyranny of darkness.

Though, Nora was making a compelling case for it being doable alone. His teammate barreled through the monsters, a hurricane of crimson lightning and pink death. Magnhild crashed through three Beowolves with each swipe, scattering the monsters to black dust as it went. She screamed with utter fury, a devil of the battlefield ready to slaughter the pretender fiends who would sully her name. Most of the vanguard was drawn to her raging bloodlust, only to find themselves incinerated by the storm she wielded.

It took time, much more than Jaune thought they’d had, but eventually, they managed to defeat the horde, only fading puddles of mud and smoke remaining. Nora blasted those with grenades just to be sure.

“That all of them?” she inquired.

Jaune nodded as he panted. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we got them.”

“Good,” Nora nodded, scarlet electricity still surging across her muscles. She looked over to the specter of the dark castle above, cocking an eyebrow. “So, it’s a good thing that there’s only three of those white pillars now, right?”

Jaune followed her gaze, a grin spreading across his face as he confirmed the sight. “Very good. The others must have destroyed one of the Relics. We’ve got a bit more time now.”

“Awesome!” Nora cheered. Unfortunately, her smile faded immediately afterward. “So, does that mean…”

Jaune’s face fell into a grim frown. The others had destroyed one Relic, but they had no way of knowing which. They didn’t know if the Relic of Creation was in their hands or if it had been turned to ash. More importantly, they didn’t have time to wait and find out one way or the other.

At the crest of the canyon, the Relic of Knowledge perched at the edge of the cliffside, his mother and sibling dueled to the death. If Nora had been a devil, then these two were demon lords of the deepest hells and bloodiest battlefields. Clarent and Excalibur Morgan raged like twin dragons of crimson and black, the tainted steel clashing again, the very ground cracking under their strikes.

It was mesmerizing.

Still, Mordred’s objective was to get past her foe and destroy the Relic and Arturia had not budged an inch from her place in front of it. And though Jaune’s aura reserves were great, Salem’s well of dark _prana,_ corrupting as it may have been, was limitless. If this came down to a battle of endurance, they would lose. And despite her best efforts, it didn’t look like Mordred was winning the battle of strength any time soon.

Not alone at least.

 

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Mordred grunted as another parry sent her skidding back, Excalibur Morgan’s hellish flames licking her armor. Already her sturdy gray plate was covered in nicks and scratches from exchanges where she just hadn’t been fast enough.

The battle hadn’t been going as poorly as the clash at the White Fang HQ had. Part of that could be contributed to her, she wasn’t charging in with only mad rage this time. She still fought with instinctive fury, but that was more a consequence of how she fought.

However, just as much of her current success could be attributed to father’s strategy. She had no doubt that he would press her back with his immense strength if he went on the offensive, she’d even prepared for that eventuality. But she had been stymied by an unexpected problem.

Father did not want to kill her. And unlike at Camlann, where he had been forced to do his duty, this time he just had to wait out the clock. The loss of one of the white pillars in the sky may have stalled that deadline, but as things were going, he would be more than capable of holding her off until that time unless reinforcements arrived. He would doubtlessly still slaughter her if she forced his hand, but for now, he was content to play the Relic’s guardian.

Which, unfortunately, he was really good at. The price for his boost in strength and endurance may have been a bit of speed, but combined with his bountiful skill, the King of Knights’ agility was more than sufficient. He held his blade close to his body, deflecting Mordred’s mighty, hammering blows with efficient flicks of his sword, harmlessly redirecting the strike while expending less energy himself, leaving him with the advantage in any head-on clashes Mordred was able to force. It was like ramming into a castle wall, only in the red knight’s experience, those tended to fall down when she shot them with lightning. As things were going now, she wasn’t getting anywhere.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the last of the Grimm horde threatening the others fade into a mass of shadows. A grin spread across her helmeted face.

She sparked away from Saber Alter, lowering her blade, still ready but not aggressive. As expected, the black knight tilted her head in interest. “Oh? Have you reconsidered, Mordred? That doesn’t seem very much like you.”

Mordred chuckled. “Of course, I haven’t reconsidered. But, in my magnanimous generosity, I thought I’d give _you_ a chance to reconsider.”

Saber Alter frowned. “I’m not sure what surprises me more. That you would speak such nonsense or that you actually know how to use the word ‘magnanimous’.”

“A knight must have a varied vocabulary,” Mordred posited, slowly inching to the left, father following her movements. She just needed to keep him focused on her long enough for Jaune and Lady Nora to act.

“So, they must,” Arturia sneered. “I would have thought you more focused, Mordred. Base taunts will do you no good here.”

“Not taunts, father. More a wake-up call,” Mordred jeered. “All this time on Remnant has been educational. It has crystalized me, reminded me of the truth of who I am.”

“I could have told you that. Excalibur may be at your belt, but you are still just an upstart who believes herself entitled to a throne.”

Mordred chuckled. “No. No, I was never meant to be king. It’s not who I am.”

She derived no small pleasure from father’s double-take, his stoic façade finally thrown.

“Insurrection, by its very existence, indicts a weak rule,” she continued. “Whether against a tyrannous sovereign or merely a flawed one, it is a necessary reminder that improvement is needed. For… for there is no such thing as a perfect king. Only one who lives and smiles and does their best. My betrayal, my seeking of the throne, it was all for you. Because I was your loyal son, and I wanted you to be able to be happy, to smile.”

“That was the reason you turned against me?” Arturia spoke softly. Mordred actually wondered if her revelation would provoke joy from her father, but a vicious snarl soon erupted across her face, the greatest fury she’d ever seen from the King of Knights. “That was why you slaughtered my knights? Why you destroyed the kingdom we had both sworn to protect? For me? For my happiness, for something so insignificant—”

“Your happiness is not insignificant!” Mordred shouted, passion radiating from her voice. “No one’s happiness is insignificant! Did you not learn that here, in this world?”

“I was happy because I was not a king!” Saber Alter roared, Excalibur blazing with darkness. “But I chose to reclaim that burden, and because of that choice, the happiness of others takes precedence over everything I may wish for myself! My family lives, and I would want nothing more than to go to their side, but my duty demands me here, to see through the salvation of all!”

Mordred frowned, a thought occurring to her. A thought of Archer, of his world of endless blades. Each sword a legend, a myth of towering stature and radiance. And yet, to him, to the empty man with a heart of glass, there was nothing magnificent about them. They were there to be used.

Like she had been used by Morgana.

Like father had allowed himself to be used by the world.

Look where it had gotten them, for all their striving.

“People are not tools,” she declared. “They are not machines. And they do not desire, nor deserve to be ruled by them. For if they are not lead by their fellow man, then such a rule, no matter how perfect and brilliant, will never seem secure. They cannot truly believe in the strength of something they do not understand.”

“You speak of dribble to justify your treachery,” Arturia dismissed.

“Do I?” Mordred challenged. She raised her sword and gestured to the far off sky, the thunder of Atlas’ cannons hammering valiantly against the seemingly invincible storm of Grimm. “There is your proof! Look how they fight! Look how they shout and scream and claw against the coming of Salem’s so-called perfect world! A world that even if it wasn’t hell, could never be truly theirs!”

“Foolishness,” Saber Alter muttered. “Why do they strive so much to deny a perfect world.”

“You were the perfect king. Were you happy?”

Once more, Mordred delighted in her father’s silence, especially as their discussion had already proven more than once the correct answer to that query.

In any case, the others were in position. It was time to go.

Mordred brought Clarent before her, both her hands firmly grasped and ready around its hilt. Around _her_ sword. “I stand with those who would speak the voice of change, against well-intentioned benevolence or the blackest of tyranny. That is my legend, my truth as a Heroic Spirit. I am the Voice of Discontent, the bane and savior of kings and gods! I am the Knight of Rebellion! I am Mordred! And now my father, my king, _my_ hero, once more my blade shall claim your life and free you from your prison!”

She charged, her sword singing with a scarlet storm, more than enough to force father to block. Which would leave her back wide open to Nora’s charging hammer strike, crackling with the force of a crimson and pink tempest. And even if she did recover in time when that strike landed, she then wouldn’t be able to stop Jaune’s incoming surge of wind from obliterating the Relic of Knowledge.

They had this. They could do it together and overcome the darkness before them. She wasn’t alone anymore.

Unfortunately, a surge of darkness soon swirled around Excalibur Morgan and Mordred knew their ruse had failed.

“ **Burst Air!** ”

The Dark-tainted Tyrant turned inward and swung her blade horizontal, an arc of pure destructive energy slicing through the air and obstructing all her opponents’ paths. Jaune was smart enough to duck down to the ground, the black slash careening over his head and obliterating the hill several yards behind him. Mordred massed her crimson lightning in her blade and met the blast head on, buckling under the force, but managing to remain upright.

Lady Nora, trapped in the middle of a leap, was also forced to utilize that strategy. But unlike Clarent, Magnhild was not a Noble Phantasm. The power coursing through the huntress insured her aura was able to keep her from being hurt, but both that and her weapon shattered into sparks. The young Valkyrie tumbled forward into the black dirt.

Saber Alter glanced at the huntress, unsurprised. “You’re not usually one for speeches, Mordred. Did you really think I would not discover the cause of your sudden verbosity?”

She stepped forward and wrenched the lady up by her collar, holding her aloft like a trophy. The huntress struggled valiantly, but whatever strength she’d gained from Mordred’s lightning could not overcome the iron grip of the King of Knights.

“Nora!” Jaune yelled fearfully.

“Let her go!” Mordred demanded. Her sword crackled with crimson thunder. “Let her go right now or I swear—”

“She shall live if you two finally come to your senses,” Saber Alter declared. “Stand down. You cannot stop what is to come. If you wish for me to be your parent rather than your king, then listen to my words. Listen for your own good, and we will all have the chance to be happy.”

“Don’t listen!” Nora screeched, her hands struggling to remove her captor’s grip. “Keep fighting! Destroy the Relic!”

“My lady…” Mordred muttered. She knew her duty, she knew what was at stake, but… but she could not just toss aside her friend so easily.

Saber Alter tilted her head at the flailing girl in her grasp. “You need not struggle either, Nora. You would be welcome in the Queen’s paradise. You and your partner both.”

Nora glared at Arturia emotionless mask. “The Grimm destroyed my home. They destroyed Ren’s home and killed his parents. They attacked Beacon. Salem created them; she commands them. Any time over the last centuries she wanted them to stop, she could have stopped them. But she didn’t. I know you’re brainwashed Mrs. Arc, but do you really think any world she makes will be ‘paradise’?”

“I’ve made a utopia before,” Arturia replied. “It is regrettable, but it cannot be done without sacrifice.”

Nora paled, a nervous gulp running down her throat. Still, she steeled herself and did not look away from the King of Knights. “Then consider me one of them.”

Saber Alter paused, then nodded her head in respect. “You are a true huntress, Nora Valkyrie.”

She pulled back her sword, dark fire bursting from the blade.

“Nora!” Jaune screamed stumbling forward, not nearly fast enough. “Don’t!”

“Don’t blame yourself, Jaune,” Nora replied. “I knew what I was getting into. Just like Pyrrha. Tell Ren… boop. Tell him boop. He’ll know what it means.”

“No!” Mordred roared. Father may have decided to respect Nora’s wish to die rather than live in Salem’s world, but she would not let that happen!

She flared her Prana Burst, pouring every ounce of power she had into her muscles and rocketing up the canyon slope, Clarent raised high and raging with a crimson tempest.

However, as soon as she’d dashed up the hill, father tossed Nora down the slope, smacking into the charging Jaune. She ducked low, Mordred’s enraged slash flying harmlessly over her head. The black king seized the opening and stepped into her guard.

With a single, brutal thrust, the King of Knights drove Excalibur Morgan right through her stomach.

“ **Burst Air!** ”

Mordred’s helmet exploded from her body, blood choking from her lips. Hellfire surged through her father’s sword and lancing into her body, rending her spine in two. Agony raced through her mind as her flesh screamed in torment. Her chest and head flew off through the air as her waist and legs tumbled to the ground. The bare Excalibur still attached to her hip did not shine in the dark of the night.

The Knight of Rebellion’s upper half crashed into the dirt. She was vaguely aware of Jaune and Nora screaming her name, but it was difficult to hear with black whispers already racing through her head, dark power riving within.

Saber Alter looked her over for a few seconds, obviously remembering her survival at Camlann, before stoically turning away, her father turning her back on her once more, apparently deciding bisection was enough of an ailment to overcome her Battle Continuation.

Under normal circumstances, she would not have been wrong. But these were hardly normal circumstances. She would not let her harm Jaune and Nora.

Mordred’s vision faded to darkness and the whispers in her mind rose to a roar.

 

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_Okay, where the hell am I?_

**You are here. You are with—**

_Great. Fuck off._

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Jaune couldn’t tell who’d screamed, him or Nora. He supposed it didn’t matter. Both of them were gaping disbelievingly at the fallen halves of Mordred’s body, his sibling, his brave, passionate, temperamental, self-deprecating sibling, snuffed out just like that.

Snuffed out by his mother.

Saber Alter stalked towards them, her sword still wet with blood and riving with black power. “It is over.”

“You bitch!” Nora screeched. She tried to bum rush the corrupted Servant, but her legs fell out from under her mid-charge, her muscles finally spasming from Mordred’s overload.

Saber Alter ignored her, instead looking straight at him. “You have no Servant. You do not have the power to overcome me. Stand down, Jaune. Our family need lose no more members this day.”

He knew she was right. She was always right. Despite what power he’d gained, he was laughably outclassed here. If he tried to fight, it’d be just like their trial spar at Beacon only this time she wouldn’t be stalled by love or care. She’d certainly proven that.

But, just like then, he could not obey.

“I won’t stop,” he declared. “Mordred’s rebellion is my rebellion. I have a duty to fight as long as I’m breathing, to protect the people who will never know I existed. That’s what being a huntsman means! And you never could stop me from being one.”

Saber Alter sighed. “No. I suppose I couldn’t.”

With sluggish, regretful arms, she raised her sword. “I saw so much potential in you, my son. And despite how our paths have diverged, know that I am proud to know you have achieved it.”

“Thanks, mom,” he muttered, though even he couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. There were a lot of emotions running through him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I called you to the tower that night. Sorry that I made you vulnerable to… to this.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Arturia assured him. “I am a hero. My duty was to act, just as you did. My choice was my own, just as yours is now. There is no shame in conviction.”

The hellish flames of her sword stoked, preparing to rend him from the face of Remnant.

Defiantly, Jaune raised Crocea Mors, the Hammer of the Wind King swirling about its alabaster blade. If he was to die, it would not be gently.

But overall, he really preferred not to die at all. He especially wanted to save Nora. He wanted to find a way. He _had_ to find a way!

But there was no way. He was alone.

He was alone and he wasn’t enough.

“You should have learned not to turn your back on me!”

Jaune’s eyes widened at the impossible shout. Tears welled in his eyes, unable to comprehend such a miracle.

He should have known better than to think he was alone.

Saber Alter’s brow shot up above her mask, the black knight frantically whirling around to meet the incoming assault to her rear, a warrior charging in scattered scraps of armor and a tube top, her crimson jacket billowing with the storm at her back.

Mordred crashed down on Arturia, Clarent in one hand and the true Excalibur in the other. She slashed with the Sword of Promised Victory, forcing aside its hastily raised perversion and opening the path for her own blade. Only a hasty backpedal saved the Dark-tainted Tyrant’s head, a shallow cut bleeding across her chin. It was near-instantly healed by the mud, but the fact was that the King of Knights had  _bled_.

Jaune could only gape, both at his Servant’s display and at the fact that she’d apparently _regrown her legs_ , since he could still see her former lower half plastered on the ground, its belt ripped from where the Knight of Rebellion had torn her second sword forth.

_‘Mordred, how are you—’_

_“I’ll explain later Jaune. Right now, I need you to do exactly what I say. I’ve got a plan.”_

_‘You have a plan?’_

_“Just do it!”_

Jaune needed no more convincing. If Mordred said she needed his help, then she must have really needed his help. They weren’t winning this unless they worked together. Their timing had to be perfect.

But they could do it. After all, they were the sons of King Arthur.

 

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Arturia couldn’t understand what was going on.

She’d been so focused on Jaune, on giving him the honorable death he’d more than earned, so sure that there was no threat to her back, that she’d been caught completely off guard by Mordred’s counterattack, especially so by her twin sword barrage. That combined with her blackened form’s reduced agility allowed her opponent to force her back.

Again and again, Clarent and Excalibur rained down a hail of blows upon her, each of the blades drawing her guard away before the other came in for a more deadly blow. She did everything in her power to deflect the barrage, but even then she couldn’t stop every strike, however little damage the shallow blows did or how easily the mud within her repaired the wounds. If anything, Mordred was somehow moving faster than she had been before, her swings carrying far more strength than they should have one-handed. It didn’t make any sense. None of it made sense!

Arturia was more than aware that Mordred was more resilient than most heroes, she remembered her rising from Rhongonmyniad’s fatal blow, but this was preposterous! She’d cut her in half! No B Rank Battle Continuation would let her get up from that and it certainly wouldn’t let her regrow her lost legs! Hell, the only thing she knew of that could revive someone that quickly was… oh no.

The Dark-tainted Tyrant’s eyes widened, finally catching the pulsing dark glow emanating from Mordred’s chest, a core of the purest, incorruptible gold at its center.

“Avalon?” she barked disbelievingly, barely parrying a flurry of strikes from the sword that was to be hers and the sword that was once hers. “You implanted Avalon within yourself?!”

Even as she continued her brazen, reckless assault, Mordred smirked. “You never did cut off the _prana_ link when you healed Nicholas. And since you’re right here to provide it with power, I figured, why not?”

Arturia snarled. She cut off the link immediately, but her fury was hardly sated. She knew Mordred would sink to any depths to claim victory, she couldn’t even fault her for the strategy what with her trap with Nora, but using her love for her husband against her? She couldn’t deny she felt some pride at her son’s cleverness, but it was far overshadowed by her unyielding rage!

Still, her scabbard had been powered by her _prana_ , and her _prana_ was of All the World’s Evils. And she could already see one of Mordred’s eyes flickering a sickly yellow.

“All your posturing, and now you dip into the Queen’s power? Is this all your conviction is worth?”

“I am the Knight of Rebellion!” Mordred shouted back, her swords raining down like thunderbolts. “I will use whatever power I have to in order to protect the people, and I won’t bow to some damn whispers to do it!”

Arturia frowned. Mordred certainly had spirit; a Heroic Spirit of Insurrection would not be easily brought to heel. But no matter her will, the Queen’s power was infinite. It might take time, but the Knight of Treachery would be fully transformed into an Alter.

Whether either one of them would be dead before that happened was another question entirely.

Now that she understood what was happening, the King of Knights recovered. She’d been pushed back to the Relic of Knowledge, the artifact teetering by the edge of the canyon, and she would go no further. She planted her feet and black _prana_ surged around her, power radiating from her sinful blade. She brought down her weapon in a brutal two-handed strike.

Mordred countered with a pulse of crimson lighting tinged with darkness. She crossed her twin swords and met Excalibur Morgan between them.

They pressed each other through the bladelock, all their strength forced through that single point, their Prana Bursts firing on all cylinders. Power coiled around them, surging and smashing as the canyon wall cracked under the strain. Each of them roared in defiance, twin dragons of red and black, hellish bastions of wrathful power, one a Servant of liberating chaos, the other an extension of stabilizing order, each determined to form some scrap of utopia.

In the end, however, Mordred could not win their clash. Though she gained strength from the Queen’s power within her, she’d split her focus rejecting her influence and therefore could not draw out the maximum potential of the mud. Arturia was stronger naturally and had no such restriction.

With a mighty heave, the Dark-tainted Tyrant forced her would-be usurper back, the land splitting into a trench as Mordred skidded back, smoke rising as the Knight of Treachery panted hard.

Not that Arturia was any better, her breath also strained from their struggle. Still, she’d stemmed her son’s assault and was in a better position than she had been before. She’d left her post guarding the Relic to confront Jaune. Mordred could have seized the opportunity to destroy the lantern while her back had been turned, but that would have meant leaving her brother wide open. Now that she was once more in front of the artifact, Mordred was right back to where she’d started—

A glint of steel broke the black knight’s train of thought. Her eyes widened, her sword rising to deflect the incoming golden blade. The incoming _thrown_ blade.

Arturia was still trying to comprehend that Mordred had thrown Excalibur at her when a pillar of crimson lighting split the sky. The cloud of smoke billowed away, revealing Mordred, her tainted sword raised high above her head, charging its ultimate attack.

So that was what it’d come down to. As always, Mordred only knew how to fight with instinct and her instinct went to power, strength that would blow most enemies away like dust in the wind.

But Arturia was not most enemies. Her Noble Phantasm was stronger than her son’s, and its activation time was far quicker. She’d hoped to delay the King of Knights by forcing her to defend against the Sword of Promised Victory, but in the end, all she’d done was throw that victory away. It made no difference whether her hellish blade unleashed its ultimate attack before or concurrently with Mordred’s, the Knight of Treachery would crumble all the same.

She planted her feet and raised her sword, sinful energy rising from its black steel.

This was the end.

“ **Excali—** ”

“ **Strike Air!** ”

A blustering cyclone slammed into Saber Alter, buckling her knees as her hellfire sputtered mid charge. Beneath her featureless mask, Arturia’s eyes widened, Jaune breathing hard as he lowered his thrust sword.

She tried to compensate, reengage her power to unleash her full strength. But even as she attempted to do, the ground beneath her feet, already cracked and splintered from the force of the battle, evaporated completely, blown away by Jaune’s typhoon. Her footing lost, both she and the Relic of Knowledge tumbled over the cliffside, wide open.

“ **Clarent Blood Arthur!** ”

The demonic sword of calamity fell, its blood-red tempest erupting forth and swallowing the Dark-tainted Tyrant and the lantern.

Yet, even as her body was incinerated by the crimson storm, felled once more by her wayward son’s blade, she couldn’t help but wonder. Clarent had been a sword made for a king, a brilliant royal blade, meant to lead a country. Yet, because Mordred had stolen it from the vaults, its luster had dimmed, its strength tarnished, supposedly waylaid by the stain of a traitor.

But, if Mordred’s identity truly was never to be king, to be this symbol of warning, to ensure that no sovereign ever forgot the responsibility at their fingertips, to be this Knight of Rebellion… perhaps it had not found Mordred unworthy, merely altered itself to better suit the master it wished to serve. After all, a champion of the masses could hardly wield a monarch’s blade.

Despite her throat burning into ash, Arturia found herself chuckling. To think, she had misunderstood so much even now. Mordred led her rebellion back then, and now she had led Jaune to victory. She may not have been a king, but she could think of no worthier son. Her Prince of the People.

Saber Alter smiled as her body faded to nothingness.

 

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Jaune wasn’t sure whether to cheer in victory or sob in grief.

They’d survived, they’d won. The Relic was destroyed, its white pillar of power vanished from the hellish sky. Even Saber Alter had fallen against Mordred’s blade.

But his mom was dead. Her soul had returned back to the Throne of Heroes, beyond the reach of the Holy Grail’s wish. She was gone, for good. There was nothing he could do.

No, this wasn’t the time. The world was still in danger. He could process whatever his emotions were later. Right now, they had to keep moving.

He sheathed his sword and helped Nora to her feet, his teammate leaning on his shoulder. The both of them began limping towards Mordred.

“Mor-Mor?” Nora called tentatively, the dust finally settling. “Are you okay?”

Mordred’s body shivered, her sword disappearing from her grip. She dashed over to a point further down the cliffside, and then raced back, Excalibur now in her grip.

“Fine, my lady,” she said, her head lowered. “The plan worked. Glad to know some good came from that mess at Kuroyuri.”

“What do you mean?” Jaune asked.

Mordred put her hand over her chest. A golden shine radiated from under her shirt, Avalon emerging from her body in a shower of golden sparks. She quickly stored Excalibur within it.

“That bitch Emerald interrupted my Noble Phantasm by destroying my footing. Let Caster escape,” Mordred explained. “Figured it’d work just as well on father if we got the timing right.”

Jaune grinned. “Quite the plan. I didn’t think you’d care for something like that.”

“What can I say, we do what we need to in order to do what we can,” Mordred remarked. Strangely, she was frowning. “Unfortunately, nothing comes without consequence.”

She raised her head. Jaune gasped.

One of her eyes, normally a sparkling emerald, had turned a sickly yellow, black veins slowly branching out across her face.

“Wha—how?” Nora mumbled. “Mordred… are you…”

“An Alter? No. Not yet at least,” the knight replied, scrunching her brow in concentration. “The bitch is pretty insistent, but if it was really so easy to shut her out, father never would have succumbed. It’s only a matter of time, and when that time comes, master, you’ll have to—”

“No,” Jaune refused immediately. “Mordred, I’m not… I’m not killing you.”

“If you don’t, then I will kill you!” Mordred shouted. “Do you want that? After everything we’ve been through, is that how you want this to end?!”

Jaune shook his head. “There has to be another way. Ruby’s eyes can—”

“Jaune!”

The trio’s head whirled around. Another party of three descended down the ruins of the castle’s eastern wing on a series of white glyphs and trotted towards them.

“Ren! Winter!” Nora cheered as the other group approached. When they were near enough to identify the third member, their faces paled. Mordred summoned Clarent to her grasp, crimson sparks shimmering across the blade.

“Wait!” Ren shouted, catching the Knight of Rebellion’s intentions. “She’s not our enemy. Ruby freed her from the mud.”

Mordred’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t lower her sword, but the electricity went silent.

Weiss gulped, cowering behind her sister. She hesitantly glanced at Jaune and Nora before diverting her eyes in shame.

It was heartbreaking. From the moment Jaune had first seen her, Weiss had been proud and noble, unflinching and intelligent, a lioness on the prowl. It’d been what he’d most admired about her, even caused him to form a crush. Even when she’d been an Alter, when she’d been trying to kill them, he’d seen that strength, simply corrupted and turned against them.

Now… she was just… broken. Her pale blue eyes skittish and divided like a shattered mirror.

“Jaune, Nora,” she whispered. “I am so, so sorry—”

“Apology accepted,” Jaune said instantly. “It wasn’t your fault. It was Salem.”

“Don’t let the fact that I’m not running over to give the biggest hug ever fool you, that’s just my muscles not listening to my brain. You’re still our friend.” Nora declared. A grimace flickered across her face. “But, speaking of Ruby curing people of mud—”

“That wouldn’t work on a Servant, my lady,” Mordred interjected. “But this does provide an alternative opportunity.”

She strode towards the Schnees. Winter pulled Weiss behind her to shield her from the knight but Mordred stared straight at the younger girl. “You can summon Servants, right?”

Weiss’ eyes widened. “I… I can’t… I mean… yes. But I can’t do it all the way, I don’t have that kind of power. Without Salem, I can’t give them a proper body, or even pull their Noble Phantasms through—”

“We don’t need the Noble Phantasms,” Mordred declared, raising Excalibur and Avalon. “They’re right here.”

Everything clicked into place in Jaune’s head. Weiss and Winter would be able to pull down a Heroic Spirit and they had the perfect catalysts to…

“We need to find the Relic of Creation,” he said. “If we can use it to create a body, we can resummon mom.”

“What?” Winter exclaimed. “It took us weeks to use the staff to make a body for False Ruler, we can’t do it in the time we have left. And even if we could, Weiss is in no shape to—”

“I’ll do it,” Weiss cut in, a bit of her old strength seeping in. “I’ll bring back Arturia, as herself. I promise.”

Winter’s eyes widened at her little sister; a tinge of pride overshadowed by a storm of worry.

Mordred nodded, flinching as the black veins pulsed along her cheeks. “According to these damn mud whispers, the Relic of Creation is to the west.”

“Blake and Lancer are already on their way,” Ren informed them. “Ruby’s headed north to reinforce Yang and Rider.”

“Alright,” Jaune nodded, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. “Ren, Nora’s body is still recovering from Mordred’s lightning. Get away from the fighting and keep her safe until you guys can join us again. Weiss and Winter, Mordred and I will keep you safe until we get to the middle of the castle. Then, we’ll split up, you guys west to use the Relic of Creation to summon mom, and us north so Ruby can save Mordred.”

“Master,” Mordred growled, her yellow eye glaring at him. “There is no saving me. I made my choice, lived my life, and I accept it.”

“Well, I don’t!” Jaune shouted. He handed Nora off to Ren. “Come on everybody. We’ve got places to be.”


	84. The Birth of Aura

_“She should be here.”_

_“She’s fine.”_

_“She knows how important this is! She wouldn’t miss it!”_

_“Love causes people to lose track of time, especially young people. She’ll be here soon enough.”_

_Waver scowled, looking away as Merlin smirked and leaned back in his swivel chair, confident the damn seer had known Illya would miss their meetup time. Heck, he might have even caused it with the… gift he’d granted her just before she left._

_In the decade since Einzbern Castle, the trio had been forced to flee across the planet, or at least what was left of it. The continents themselves had been shifted by Angra Mainyu’s battle with Gaea, entire countries wiped out in seemingly an instant. Fortunately, while it was worse than they imagined that the Avenger’s blitzkrieg had forced the spirit of the world to flee to Avalon, it was not without its boons. The TYPE’s survival would insure that the mud’s influence was at least someone stymied and the wounds it had inflicted during the struggle had made All the World’s Evils vulnerable. Victory, that had once seemed so far off, was now a possibility. If they could get it right._

_Fortunately, they had a secret weapon. While Acht’s suggested countermeasures to Angra Mainyu were highly situational and far too costly for Waver’s tastes, his research into the Third Magic had provided an alternative avenue of power, one that theoretically, could turn even non-mages into a force to be reckoned with. If all went well, they could have an army at their disposal to finish this war._

_Unfortunately, the process of unlocking this ‘aura’ they’d talked about was a complete mystery to them. They had relocated to an area with the necessary leylines, the new locals called it Solitas, but for all their research and theories, they couldn’t know for sure unless they tried it. And since they suspected it’d be easier to try it on a body used to the soul’s energies acting on it, like magic circuits, first and they couldn’t seem to find any other surviving mages, that meant one of them had to be the guinea pig._

_Waver had volunteered immediately. He was the obvious choice. If something went wrong during the experiments, and given magecraft that was certainly a possibility, he was the one they could afford to lose, his partners were far more powerful than his limited circuits could match. Merlin had reluctantly agreed to the idea, but Illya had been up in arms about the entire thing. It’d taken days to convince her that this was the best path and she’d still hadn’t let him out of her hug for half an hour._

_Which made it all the more aggravating that she was late! Seriously, Merlin had made him take his shirt off to paint their prototype runes and, despite his reinforcement magecraft, their stone workshop was freezing. Not to mention they had to be ready by midnight if they wanted to ensure an optimal test._

_“This is your fault, you know that, right?” he growled at Merlin. “If you hadn’t egged her on, she and that Schnee girl might be able to keep their hands off each other for five seconds.”_

_The Magus of the Flowers shrugged. “In times this dark, a little bit of light in life is more valuable than ever.”_

_“And your… addition?”_

_A playful smirk rose to the white-haired man’s face. “They wanted kids. There’s hardly any to adopt the way things are going. And I do work worthy of a king.”_

_“I can’t really refute that,” Illya quipped, running in from the storm. Green lines flared along her flesh as she rubbed her hands together for warmth. “Sorry I’m late. We lost track of time.”_

_“I’m sure,” Waver sighed, exasperated. “I trust Willow will be able to walk when the time comes to evacuate.”_

_The no longer girl, who now looked almost exactly like her mother had when Waver had met her in Fuyuki all those years ago, shot him an insolent grin, learned from Merlin no doubt. “Come on now, Waver. It’s not proper to pry into a lady’s private affairs.”_

_“Unless Merlin’s gift has already faded, you’re not a lady right now.”_

_“Okay, you were saying something about us needing to get to work?” Merlin interjected, leaping to his feet, a trail of petals floating behind. “Saving the world and all that? We should get onto it.”_

_Waver smirked at Illya. “Was it really fit for a king?”_

_The homunculus girl grinned back conspiratorially. “Willow said she’d had better. I mean, she obviously prefers other methods in general, but her critique was very much that there was room for improvement.”_

_“Oh haha, blame the archmagi, not like he granted all your prayers or anything,” Merlin grumbled. “Did you at least make sure no one stole it?”_

_“Yes, we made sure I was actually sleeping with my girlfriend instead of letting someone steal my—”_

_“Okay, don’t need to hear that,” Waver interrupted. He did love when he wasn’t the one getting ganged up on, but he really didn’t want to hear about Illya and Willow’s escapades. “Shall we?”_

_Illya nodded and tossed off her coat, both her and Merlin walking over to the runework on the ground, both of them checking over the elaborate seal he stood in the center of. Really, it was rather unwieldy. If they wanted to make this process quick enough to make an army, they’d need to streamline it in the future._

_If they had a future, that was._

_Eventually, Merlin set his hands on the seal, pink energy flowing through the complex runes. Illya stepped forward and placed her palms on Waver’s tattooed chest. He tensed his muscles and fired his magic circuits, filling his body with prana._

_“Alright,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”_

_Illya’s brow furrowed with worry. “Are you sure? We can put it off, take more time, do more calculations—”_

_“We don’t have time for that.” Waver reminded her. “If the mud heals before we make our move, we’ll all be doomed.”_

_“I know,” the white-haired girl pouted. “But… I don’t want to lose anyone else.”_

_Ah, that was understandable. Illya may have recovered some cheer over the years, but at times she was still the scared little girl whose parents went away and died, right before the rest of her family followed suit._

_Waver flashed her a reassuring smile. “You’re not going to lose me. I swore to my king that I would live. I have no intention of breaking that promise here. Though, of all the people in the world who could kill me, I can think of worse than you.”_

_“Like me?” Merlin called._

_“Like him.”_

_Despite herself, Illya giggled. It was a welcome sight, even if it was gone an instant later, replaced by concern. “Thank you for finding me in the castle that day, Waver.”_

_He smiled back at her. “Thank you for not strangling me back then.”_

_“And I am going to assume you’re both thankful to me for arranging said finding and keeping her from strangling you.”_

_“You’re not the one who might die in a few seconds, Merlin.”_

_“And neither is he,” the Magus of the Flower declared. “Have a little faith, Illya.”_

_Waver grinned to the ancient wizard. “Is that yours talking, or clairvoyance?”_

_“A bit of both. According to future sight, this entire thing is fifty-fifty, but I’ve decided to believe that’s just Angra Mainyu being a poor sport,” Merlin explained. His expression was dead serious as he looked to both of them. “This is going to work, Waver. I have faith in our calculations, and I have faith in the both of you. This is going to work, and we are going to save this world.”_

_Waver nodded and turned back to Illya. “Well, whenever you’re ready, Lady Einzbern.”_

_Illya gulped and then steeled herself. Power flowed through her arms and into Waver. “For it is in passing that we achieve immortality…”_

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“ISKANDAR!”

“He is really fond of shouting your name, isn’t he?” Yang quipped, finding humor in their foe even as he and his army chased them down. She needed something to lighten the mood with the situation they were in.

Two of the white pillars emanating from the Relics had gone dark, including the eastern position. That meant that Jaune’s group had managed to beat Saber Alter, or at least outmaneuver her to destroy the lantern. And since the southern point had also gone dark, Ruby’s team must have been having some success as well.

Yang couldn’t stop kicking herself for failing to let Ruby know the truth about Ea sooner. She’d just been so wrapped up in her own fears, so much that she’d shot herself and her sister in the foot, just like she’d feared when she’d stalled leaving Patch. It was infuriating!

But she couldn’t focus on that. What was done was done, and she had to focus on what was in front of her or everyone was going to die, including Ruby. For the time being, she could only hope that P-2 got to her in time.

Meanwhile, she and her Servant had a literal army of problems to deal with.

“Tell me the truth, big guy,” she said. “Can you beat him without your Reality Marble?”

Iskandar grinned, the Gordius Wheel’s lightning crackling past his face. “We don’t need to, master. Our objective is on the horizon!”

He pointed out before them. Just beside the northern parapets of the castle, a glittering golden crown floated above a pool of black mud, a brilliant white pillar shining into the sky.

Yang laughed. Rider was right. While Darius and his pursuing army were certainly a problem, if they could get to the Relic of Choice before the last Emperor of Persia got to them, then they could hold out until the others took out the last Relic and get help from Mordred and her Anti-Army Noble Phantasm to take down the Athanaton Ten Thousand. With Caster dealt with, hopefully, the Servants could fight to the death for the wish and they could destroy Salem. It was a simple plan!

Unfortunately, her premature celebration failed to account for the fact that their enemies would have considered such scenarios as well. The sight of Nevermores, Nevermores mounted by black zombies with eyes of emerald fire soaring overtop the castle and diving for the pair, reminded her of that.

Iskandar scowled. “Of course, he would set up a flanking force. He saw what charging in recklessly got him last time.”

“Rider?” Yang murmured worriedly. “Plan?”

The squadron of Nevermore riders were charging them head-on. While the Grimm themselves wouldn’t be a problem, each of their riders were the equivalent to a Servant. No Noble Phantasms, but still elite warriors with the strength and speed to give the King of Conquerors a fight. And even if he won, they would stall him long enough that Darius and his main force would be on them.

Numbers did not win a battle, but they very much did help.

Fortunately, the King of Conquerors was used to being outnumbered. Even as the Nevermore riders drew javelins that lit with green fire, a confident grin spread across his face.

“Darius wants me,” Iskandar declared. “So, we’ll give him me.”

“What?” Yang exclaimed. “Are you insane? You can’t fight an entire army on your own!”

“Of course not,” he dismissed with a casual wave. “But like we said, our objective is in front of us.”

Javelins hissed towards them from above. Yang’s eyes lit up with the maiden’s glow and a hurricane gale swept the spears aside. Even as the riders above drew another volley, adjusting their throwing arms for possible interference, Iskandar grinned.

“I’ll hold the enemy here, master,” he explained. “You take out the Relic.”

“What? I can’t do that!” Yang protested. “Only a Servant has the kind of power to take something like that out!”

“Or something of equivalent strength, such as a Maiden,” Iskandar replied. “Don’t doubt yourself for your mistakes, master. You’re stronger than you believe yourself to be.”

Yang really wanted to argue that point, but she had to grab onto the chariot’s edge before she could think of anything, the Gordius Wheel swerving to evade an even faster barrage of flaming javelins, electricity sparking off its hull. The shock of the maneuver snapped some sense into her head. She didn’t have time to doubt herself right now. The end was nigh, and she had to do everything she could.

Including give her friend the best chance she could.

“I’m coming back, you know that, right?” she told her Servant. “This isn’t gonna be like Haven. I’m not going to abandon you.”

“You didn’t abandon me then. We fight together to win this war, Yang. Even if it is on separate fronts, our spirits are one.”

Yang smirked. “You better not die then, big guy.”

“Ha!” Iskandar laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve for Darius. But in the meantime, you should get going.”

Yang nodded. The Nevermore riders were nearly upon them, seven warriors with flaming spears, accelerating to ram them.

Iskandar grinned and cracked the chariot’s whips. “ **Gordius Wheel! Via Expugnatio!** ”

A tempest surged around the vehicle, the divine bulls breaking into a furious run. With how flashy Ionian Hetairoi was, it was easy to forget that the King of Conquerors’ mount was an A+ Noble Phantasm all its own. With its True Name called, lightning crashed down from the sky, annihilating two of the Nevermore riders and forcing the remaining five to take evasive action. Almost instantaneously the chariot blazed a hundred yards ahead, the ground erupting into chunks of molten debris under its wheels.

Seizing the opening, Yang leapt into the air, landing on Iskandar’s flat palm. With a mighty thrust, he sent her soaring into the air.

Of course, their enemies were not idle. The five remaining riders quickly re-converged on the chariot, three of them even sending javelins streaking down at its wheels while the last pair fired on her. Iskandar raised his mount into the sky and smashed through one of bird Grimm, his sword slicing through the rider as he went and forcing the others to focus on him, one even leaping onto the chariot to challenge him up close.

There was nothing Yang could do about that. The King of Conquerors was more than capable of handling himself against the remaining assailants, and if he said he had a plan for Rider Alter, than she believed him. She needed to take care of her part of the mission.

Which meant not getting skewered by the incoming flaming spears. If they hadn’t been thrown by Servant level combatants, she would have been confident tanking them on her aura, but since they were, she wasn’t completely confident she could absorb the blows. And unfortunately, she had also run into the issue of Iskandar’s throw being insufficient to get her to her objective. She was already beginning to descend, and she knew enough about landing strategies to know that she wasn’t going to make it to the Relic, even with all the ammunition in Ember Celica.

Fortunately, she was more than just a huntress now.

She flipped over herself in midair and threw out her hands. The power of the Spring Maiden coursed through her and erupted out in a massive stream of fire, rocketing her further into the sky as the javelins plummeted to the ground.

Yang laughed in victory, the wind racing across her skin. At least, until she saw the Relic of Choice pass under her. Then, her eyes widened, realizing that her inexperience with her new powers just overshot her flight.

Hitting the castle was quite unpleasant. Manageable thanks to her aura, but highly unpleasant.

 

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Ruby dashed down the black halls of Salem’s fortress, her muscles screaming at her to rest as her scars burned with pain.

She ignored them all. There wasn’t any time to waste.

She rushed out of the ruined castle, coming out to a battlement overlooking the northern frontier. Far below the fortress’ black walls, a pool of thick mud churned and bubbled, a golden crown inlaid with a green jewel shooting a gargantuan pillar into the sky just above it. In the distance, she could see Nevermores flying towards an approaching surge of lightning, Yang and Rider no doubt. Which meant the mass of black warriors lead by a war elephant was most certainly Rider Alter.

Not the best situation but if she could take out the Relic, maybe with her eyes, she could help the others—

“Quite a lovely view, isn’t it?”

Crescent Rose flashed into Ruby’s hands, her body whining in protest as the thousand daggers beneath her skin did their best to draw blood, Limited Bladeworks no more cooperative despite her new knowledge of her identity. The red hooded huntress ignored the pain and whirled around, dropping into a combat stance.

Her silver eyes narrowed. “Kirei.”

The priest looked different than the last time Ruby had seen him. Aside from the gaping bullet holes in his chest. His robes were in tatters, as if shredded by a Beowolf. His skin flaked off his flesh in crumbling waves. Beneath the crackling veneer of his aura, she could feel magical energy sputtering and trying to spark within his body. She could piece enough together to guess he’d had an intimate encounter with an Origin Round.

Yet, unlike her father, here he stood, not even a sway in his step, that infernal smirk still plastered across his face.

“A single pillar of light, blazing amidst the darkness,” he continued, as if they were two friends discussing the weather. “And yet, that light shall be the instrument of absolute evil.”

“Are you here to talk or fight?” Ruby hissed. “Draw your Black Keys already.”

Turning her back to her enemy to run for the Relic was a terrible strategy. Recklessly charging in was equally ill-advised. She could use her eyes, blow him away in a single shot, but she had no idea if her body could handle a blast like that in its current state. She might rip herself apart. No, unfortunately, her best chance of coming out of this confrontation the victor was to wait for Kirei to make the first move.

Unfortunately, he seemed content to just enjoy her company.

“No Keys, I’m afraid,” he informed her. “They require a bit of _prana_ to activate and as you can see, I’m currently lacking in the ability to produce such energy. Assassin made sure of that. He sought to weaken me for you to finish off.”

No Black Keys, that was good. That meant that if she could keep him at range, he wouldn’t have any way to counterattack. Her semblance would let her outpace him, so unless he got creative…

No. She was thinking about him like a normal enemy. This was Kirei. He was what Shirou would be if liked throwing people into fires instead of pulling them out of them. It didn’t matter how little he had at his disposal; he _would_ use it to do the impossible. She had to be careful, she had to be smart.

His body was collapsing. Whatever damage Kiritsugu had done, or whatever he’d done to himself to survive Kiritsugu, it had clearly taken its toll. She’d caught sight of the Relic pillar to the east fading from the sky, so she had more time than she did before. If she could keep him talking, perhaps his decaying form would overpower his will, or at least handicap him enough that she could deal with him without too much trouble.

“He crippled you and took out the Relic at the same time,” she taunted. “You never could beat him.”

“No,” Kirei sighed. “I never got the chance to finish any of our duels. Angra Mainyu has always interfered before the end. She tried to turn him into an Alter after what happened to the Relic, but he took his own life instead.”

Ruby’s knuckles tightened around her scythe, but she showed no other reaction to the news. It was heartbreaking that her grandfather had killed himself rather than let Salem twist him, but hardly shocking. She’d tried to get Blake to help her do the same after all.

The realization caused her to smile. “She tried to do the same with me, you know?”

“Yes. She informed me Weiss Alter would attempt to do so.”

“And if she’d succeeded, I’d hardly be a Hero of Justice anymore,” Ruby grinned. “You would have had no final battle, no big clash of good vs. evil to bring you _joy_.”

To her surprise, Kirei only chuckled at her words. “Please Ruby, have some faith in yourself. The mud could not taint Gilgamesh, and it certainly can’t corrupt you. There are some things above mere thoughts of good and evil.”

Ruby frowned. “So, you do know what I am.”

“What you are is irrelevant,” Kirei declared. “Only who you are matters, and we both know who that is.”

“Your perfect enemy?”

“Indeed. Just as every hero needs a tragedy, every villain needs a hero to slay them. You might be mine in this world, but if so, Salem will be yours in the next,” he smirked. “When the world is utterly consumed by evil, the incorruptible huntress shall be the monster to be slain. How ironic will that be, Ruby Rose? When you are the enemy of all existence?”

A hacking cough cut the priest off, black mucus sputtering up from his throat. If he hadn’t kept his body perfectly positioned for a fight, Ruby might have seized the opportunity to attack. As it was, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a trap. Though she could be sure his body was failing him. Just a bit longer.

“Is that what you want to be, Kirei?” she said. “After all this, you want to be the hero?”

“Of course not,” he replied, wiping the sludge from his lip, his arm moving more limply that it had before. “My place, my only place, is as the villain of this story. Even if I did make it to the new world, it would be only as the devil watching over a warped humanity, delighting in their uncomprehending descent to their own damnation. But alas, I will not make it there.”

“And neither will anyone else,” Ruby said, steel in her voice. “We’re going to win. I’m going to live. And Salem is going to die. Just like you.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but Kirei’s smirk grew even wider at her declaration. “Perfect. I’d worried the revelation of your origin might have marred you. Thank you for proving me wrong, old friend.”

Ruby glared. “We’re not friends.”

“Even better.”

Kirei’s arms rose into a full combat stance. His legs bent in preparation for a charge.

Ruby readied her semblance, clutching her scythe tight. This was it.

Of course, that was what she’d thought before her sister had flow between the two of them, a trail of fire blowing both her and Kirei off their feet while Yang smashed into the stone wall.

 

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“Alright, a few more moments and we should have it,” Caster said, a small pink beam carving into the black stone of the balcony.

“Great,” Emerald nodded. “This thing will come in handy against the other Servants.”

Just as planned the two of them had successfully infiltrated the castle from the western side, Salem’s attention focused on the goody-two-shoes’ last heroic stand or whatever. They’d followed the pillar of white light to its roots on a wide balcony, the elaborate staff of the Relic of Creation shining against the dark stone.

They could have destroyed it, if they hadn’t seen two of the other pillars go down, they probably would have so as to not risk Salem’s victory. But it would be a shame to just destroy such a valuable weapon. And if they had the time to work, it wouldn’t do any harm to work out how to safely remove it from its location.

Soon enough, Caster had used her magic to carve an elaborate sigil into the floor of the balcony. Once the glyph was charged with _prana_ , they’d be able to remove the staff and use it for themselves. Everything was falling into place.

Suddenly, Caster shot up straight, her pink glyphs emerging before her and Emerald. “Master, we have incoming.”

“What?”

Emerald didn’t get the chance to question the matter any further, because in-between eye blinks, the answer appeared right in front of her, a crimson spear jetting towards her chest.

A rush of air pulled her out of Lancer’s path, Caster’s glyphs firing off a massive bombardment as soon as she’d gotten her master out of the line of fire. The green-clad warrior twirled his red polearm into the blast of magic, the power evaporating into thin air. Medea took advantage of Diarmuid’s brief defense to snag Emerald into her arms and leap into the sky.

A hail of dust rounds harried them as they rose. Caster easily threw up a forcefield to block them, but they did allow Emerald to zero in on the shooter.

“Hey there, Blake!” she called. “I know this may not sound the greatest, but we’re on the same side! So stop shooting!”

The cat huntress prowled onto the balcony, a hand cannon swing at her hip while Gambol Shroud was trained on Emerald and Caster. “You work for Salem. We’re not on the same side.”

“Did you see the missing chunk of the castle on the other side? That was us!” Emerald shouted. “We’re against Salem as much as you are. Trust me, we have no intention of becoming alters.”

Blake didn’t lower her glare, but she stopped shooting at the very least. “You helped Cinder sack Beacon.”

“She saved me off the streets! I didn’t get exactly what she was doing until it’d already started and by that time I was already in Salem’s clutches!” Emerald protested.

It wasn’t untrue, but the veracity wasn’t important. Lancer was a Knight Class with a magic destroying spear. Caster couldn’t beat him in a straight fight, so playing to Ms. Ex-White Fang’s past of ‘not knowing terrorism was wrong’ and forming an alliance against Salem was her best bet for survival. She’d just shoot her in the back later to get the Grail.

Blake’s face twitched in fury, but she glanced at Lancer and sighed. “Surrender Caster now, and I’ll let you live. You’ll face justice for your crimes, but I promise you’ll get a fair trial.”

Damn. So much for that plan. No way was she letting some Atlesian pricks sentence her to death, and even less was she throwing Caster to the wolves.

_‘Can you keep Lancer off me?’_

_“Off you? Yes,”_ Medea confirmed. _“But I can’t beat him, master.”_

 _‘You don’t need to beat him,’_ Emerald reminded her. _‘You just need to hold him off until I put Blake in the ground.’_

_“Ah. Excellent.”_

The downside of a knight class. Unless they had Independent Action, they wouldn’t last long once their master was dead. And Emerald remembered all too well how she’d manhandled Blake back at Haven.

She reached out with her semblance, illusions stretching over the huntress’ mind, of her accepting her bargain, of her and Caster slowly lowering themselves towards the balcony. The massive blast of _prana_ surging towards the edge of the balcony went unseen.

At least, by her.

“Master, move!” Lancer shouted, rushing back and neutralizing the stream of pink light before it could incinerate his master. Fortunately, that meant he could not stop the second blast from annihilating that section of the balcony out from under them both.

Blake gasped as she tumbled through the air, but even as her Servant moved to grab her, she shouted, “Lancer, I can’t see or hear you, but I’ll be fine! Take out Caster!”

The Knight of the Fianna looked conflicted for an instant, but quickly nodded. He dissipated into spirit form, promptly materializing right above Caster immediately afterward.

Emerald nodded to her own Servant, and Medea let her go, the thief diving towards the castle. She whipped out her kama and threw them into the black stone wall, giving her purchase on the structure. She grinned as she saw Blake do the same with Gambol Shroud.

She had reinforcements. She had her illusions. Blake had nothing.

This was going to be fun.

 

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“Why is it not done yet, mongrel?”

Oscar sighed, tightening his hands around whatever ancient, ornate staff was in his hands, trying to imagine Ozpin in his head, advising him to keep his wits about him, to take the high road, and all that ancient wise wizard stuff—

“Mongrel! Respond when a king does you the honor of addressing you!”

Oh, fuck it.

“I am currently trying to jury rig a reality-warping ritual that I saw _once_ in a place that specifically fights against any warping in reality,” Oscar growled. “So, _your majesty_ , please excuse the fact that I require just a bit of concentration!”

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. “Very well, boy. Now answer me, how soon until the spell is complete?”

Oscar groaned. The two had made camp on a hilltop that had a significant chunk of leylines running through it, apparently part of a larger matrix running throughout the Grimmlands. Probably no coincidence that the area was filled deep purple dust crystals, some the size of a sword hilt, some the size of a bullhead.

Nevertheless, the abundant magical power provided by the area made the spell far easier to set up than before. It would have been difficult to manage the raw energy, but fortunately, Gilgamesh had been able to squeeze out more than a few mystical artifacts from his vault. Each of Oscar’s complex glyphs were covered by softly gleaming lodestones or spiked in the center by an intricately carved tribal staff. The raw resources at their disposal had made the setup process go way faster than it had when Ozpin had done it.

Of course, Oscar had been rushing, and he wasn’t entirely sure he got it right…

Damnit! He really wished they weren’t on the clock right now. He was confident the spell would either work as intended and send them to Ea, or bring the sword to them… or incinerate them both. That was also a possibility.

“Just finishing up the last sigil,” he told the great golden pain in the ass. “After that, I just fill the whole thing with the _prana_ to trigger it, and the power stored within will take care of the rest.”

“Excellent,” Gilgamesh nodded. “Soon, Ea will be safe once more. You will be richly rewarded for your service, boy.”

“You can thank me by shooting Salem in the face with it,” Oscar snipped. “After that…”

He scowled. After that, there wouldn’t be any power on the planet that could stop Gilgamesh. His magecraft, the other Servants, even Ruby’s eyes, none of that would be able to stand up to a sword that could literally rend worlds. He was literally handing the most powerful weapon in the world over to a self-admitted tyrant. If he got his Noble Phantasm back, nothing on the planet would be strong enough to stop him.

But if he didn’t, the world was going to be over within an hour anyway.

Damn it.

“What do you plan to do after this anyway?” the farm boy inquired. “After Salem’s dead, Kirei’s dead, and you have your grand revenge, what then? Conquer the world?”

Gilgamesh scoffed. “I rule one world already. Though this realm is beautiful and its inhabitants a true treasure, it is a usurper’s place to be gluttonous, not a sovereign’s. And I have left my own garden without a steward for far too long, though perhaps it could use with some improvements to rise to the level of this place.”

Oscar scoffed. “The level of literal abominations of evil trying to kill everyone.”

“To the level of a humanity, still filled by all their ambition, all their hatred, all their sin, that nevertheless survives against those same unsightly abominations,” Gilgamesh explained. “They’ve had enough wars between themselves that they felt it necessary to call one of them ‘great’, yet still require a festival to remind themselves not to lash out at each other. And yet still they survive. Such is the truth of human endurance, as it was in my time of life, a people slowly clawing their way towards their fullest potential, to the peak I laid out for them. Even despite the deceitful witch’s presence, it is a beautiful sight to behold.”

“Not one to live,” Oscar murmured. When Gilgamesh looked towards him, he reluctantly continued. “My parents were killed by the Grimm. My aunt and I have constantly had to be ‘concerned’ that some Grimm pack would stumble on the farm, but we couldn’t actually be afraid of it or that would just draw them in. We just had to live our lives constantly, subliminally terrified, knowing that one day it could just… end. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Gilgamesh smirked. “And yet, if you hadn’t experienced that terror, boy, if you hadn’t been forced to surpass it all your life, could you do what you do now? Could you stand in the bowels of hell and work to do the impossible to stave off armageddon—”

The fact that the bastard had stopped talking should have been Oscar’s first clue that something was wrong. The terrifyingly, dark _prana_ signature was his second.

“God fucking damn it—”

The wave of mountain crushing gravity cut off his curse, his aura shattering instantly. Only Gilgamesh summoning a flickering portal right beneath his own feet and moving to the base of the hill, taking the focus of the force with him, kept him from dying. Unfortunately, the hilltop was not so lucky, turned into a cracked and broken crater, most of the mystical artifacts shattered or scattered. That would have been terrifying enough for the young farm boy.

But Hazel, steadily marching towards the crater, his arm held out and a furious scowl on his face, made his eyes widen in absolute horror.


	85. The Price of Mercy, Villainy's Sorrow

_“Illya! Illya!”_

_Waver’s voice was hoarse and cracked as he desperately called over the roaring blizzard, the canyon around him ravaged and broken, jagged spires of rock and crystal reaching into the sky. The mage stumbled through the knee-deep snow, his left arm broken and his legs barely remaining upright from Merlin’s reinforcement._

_He could hardly do it himself anymore. The aura had proven as useful as expected, but their admittedly basic method of unlocking it had shattered his magic circuits. Merlin had theorized that with a bit of finetuning, they could allow a person to possess both forms of power, but the experimentation required for that kind of progress would take years at the very least. And they only had three months before the mud recovered from its duel with Gaia._

_Fortunately, the aura still worked as intended, and with a bit of dramatic speeches and demonstration of Waver’s enhanced physical abilities, they soon had their army. Even better, the energy of the soul had begun to manifest a series of strange powers in the recipients, incredible abilities defying even the laws of magecraft. Again, Merlin had only theories on the unexpected development, perhaps with the spirit’s energy no longer purely confined in circuits, a fraction of an individual’s inner world was able to act upon existence, like some small semblance of a Reality Marble._

_Waver wasn’t sure how whatever his inner world was had granted him a ‘semblance’ capable of manipulating gravity of all things, but he wasn’t going to complain about the power boost._

_They’d had a month to try to train their soldiers up to snuff, with mixed results, and then headed out. Willow had been left behind because despite having had her aura unlocked, she’d gotten pregnant. Because of course she and Illya hadn’t thought of that when Merlin had given them the new toy to play with. It was really freaking ridiculous, though he had to admit Illya’s face when she’d learned she was going to be a father might have been worth it. And if not, her repeatedly kicking Merlin in his lower area certainly had been._

_But there had been no laughter when they’d reached the mud. Only screams._

_It’d been hell, the sky blacker than any starless night. Their army had fought bravely, but Waver wouldn’t be surprised if they’d all been slain. Near the end, he’d seen even Merlin swallowed by a wave of darkness, his last breaths spent creating an opening for the others. Though if Gaia had modified his curse how he’d thought, Waver didn’t think he’d seen the last of the Magus of the Flowers._

_They hadn’t let his sacrifice be in vain. Waver had been able to use his semblance to pin Angra Mainyu down and then Illya and the rest of their allies had unleashed everything they had on All the World’s Evils. It had screeched, a high, foul sound, like a note from a piano that was perfectly out of tune. For a moment, even the fabric of reality seemed to crumple towards its death throes like the event horizon of a black hole._

_Then it had exploded, black essences surging everywhere, a particularly visceral arm blasting Illya off over the horizon. Waver had screamed at her diminishing form even as he was sent flying over the canyon cliff._

_Now, here he was, trudging through a blizzard praying that his broken aura restored itself before Merlin’s reinforcement spell finally gave out after its caster’s demise. If it didn’t, his body would fail him and he’d never find Illya. Oh, and he’d most certainly freeze to death, that too._

_But he wouldn’t. He’d been ordered to live. So, he’d find his friend and live._

_His magic circuits may have been fired, but his ability to sense power was still decent enough to pick up a speck of energy emanating further down the canyon. Slowly but surely, he forced his way through the snow, finally coming upon a white stone pit. And at the bottom…_

_“Illya!”_

_The white-haired woman laid at the bottom of the rocky chasm, her broken body leaning against the wall. Around her and across her body were small splotches of black mud, but even those sizzled in the frozen air, slowly evaporating to nothing._

_Her crimson eyes flickered open, not even with the strength to lock on to anything. “No, no, I want to help. I want it to end. I want the pain to end. No, no, no…”_

_Waver raised an eyebrow. “Illya? Illya, are you alright?”_

_She raised her head, her chest heaving when she saw him. Tears erupted from her eyes as she broke down crying._

_Something about the entire situation felt off to Waver. He had a nasty concussion from the battle, so he wasn’t necessarily seeing straight, but Illya… didn’t look like Illya. Not exactly at least. Long white hair, eyes as red as blood, skin as pale at the snow that raged around them, she certainly looked every bit the Einzbern lady she was, even beaten and bruised half to death. He couldn’t even point to anything that was out of place, but something was just… off, like an uncanny valley, it seemed so real as to be unreal._

_Was it just the concussion talking? Amazement that they’d survived the apocalyptic battle? Or was something more sinister at play?_

_The woman’s head fell into her hands, her tears becoming a flood. “I don’t… I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”_

_Her blubbering cut through him like a knife, to hear a girl he’d watched grow up so utterly inconsolable. Was she seeing him or had taken a heavy blow to the head as well? Angra Mainyu had tormented her with illusions before, so did she think him a demon? That kind of emotion, it couldn’t be faked. And yet, something still felt off._

_A mage would have left, kept away from the possible danger and left, basked in their survival. If he suspected a trap, he should have left, or finished the woman, if it was Illya it might have given her a kinder death if they couldn’t save each other and if it wasn’t, he’ have saved himself._

_He could already feel his king frowning with disapproval. He would not leave his friend to die. And neither would Waver. He would not leave his friend to die._

_The mage shuffled his way down the pit, pebbling crumbling from the wall as he barely managed his way down. Once, he nearly slipped, only for his aura to kick in, allowing him to catch himself with his enhanced reflexes._

_At last, he made his way to the floor. He smiled and made his way to Illya, still blubbering incoherently._

_“It’s alright,” he assured, holding out his unbroken hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”_

_The woman picked up her head. She gazed wide-eyed at his extended hand, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend it._

_“Illya, come on,” Waver said. “Let me help you up.”_

_“You… you want to help me?”_

_“Yes. I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s me. It’s Waver.”_

_“Waver… No one’s ever helped me before.”_

_Alarm bells went off in Waver’s head. The compassion that had pushed back his caution immediately evaporated, his mind already commanding him to jump back. Unfortunately, his body was not so fast._

_The woman before him, most defiantly not Illya, took hold of his offered hand, using it to boost herself to standing far too quickly for one who seemed as wounded as she appeared. Her arm dissolved and a swarm of black tentacles took its place, quickly enveloping Waver. The mage began to choke as the mud forced itself down his throat, his aura crackling as his power was leeched into the demon._

_“Thank you, Waver,” the woman said, a jubilant smile adorning her face as she looked on him with honest adoration. Slowly but surely, her skin paled to an ashen white, the whites of her red eyes darkening to the color of night. “Since so long ago, no one has ever helped me. It was always my fault, my burden. I was All the World’s Evils, because they wanted there to be one. Because they want their existence to matter, for there to be a devil. And they decided that was me. But maybe… maybe it could be more…”_

_Waver didn’t hear the rest. The darkness consumed him before she finished speaking. He struggled with all his might, there was even a flash of gold for a bit, a shining hope, the whisper of heroism lifting his soul up. But it lasted only an instant before once more Wav…_

_Before once more… once more…_

_Before once more someone saw only black._

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_Where… Where am I?_

**You are with me.**

_Who are you?_

**I am the one who hates them. I am the one who loves them, more than anyone else.**

_They?_

**Humanity. They wanted me to be the truth of their nature, so they could lie to themselves. But, the lie helps no one. They need to accept the truth. Only then, shall they have peace. All the World’s Evils… shall be All the World.**

_Oh._

**You will be the first, the beginning. Heroes shall come, to join you, the last. The shining lights of humanity shall cast the darkest shadow across the remnant of this world.**

_Me… Who am I?_

**You are—**

_I have been ordered to live._

**You have. And now you shall—**

_I have been ordered to live!_

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_The man burst from the darkness, the mud exploding all around. He stumbled away, reaching up and clawing his way out of the pit. It seemed shorter than before, his arms longer and thicker._

_Before… what had happened before? Who was he? Was he always this big? What was the darkness behind him?_

_He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything. Save that he had been ordered to live._

**Come back! Waver, come back! You said you’d help! Please don’t leave me alone!**

_He had been ordered to live._

_To live, he ran. Into the storm, with a body he did not know and a mind filled with the whispers of darkness._

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Hazel’s eyes narrowed as he moved in, his semblance pinning Gilgamesh to the ground.

Gilgamesh. The Golden King on the crimson bridge. The one who destroyed his king. It had war then, they were there to fight and to die. Holding a grudge over that matter, especially when Iskandar himself did not, was petty and childish.

Hazel squeezed his hand tighter. It was war now.

The black land cracked beneath the King of Heroes, the golden man smacking flat on his stomach. The sickening crunch of bones snapped through the air as the First Servant’s body crumbled under the weight of the world he claimed to bear. He gurgled, desperately trying to force himself up, but his will alone would not be enough, not when he’d soon be choking on his own blood.

“Stop!” Oscar shouted from the remnants of the hilltop, though even as he called he was resembling a set of mystic staffs for some unknown purpose. “Stop, you don’t have to do this!”

“You know what he’s done. You know he deserves all of this, just as I do,” Hazel growled. “Finishing him is kinder than the fate the Queen would deal out.”

“We need him!” Oscar roared. “You gave up because there was no way to beat Salem, because you thought it was just better to put the world out of its misery! Well, now there is! Let him live and I can get him Ea, we can destroy her! Waver please!”

“Waver is dead,” Hazel muttered mournfully. “And you suggest exchanging one hell for another. At least in Salem’s, people will be happy in the end, instead of whatever tortures he’ll inflict on them. But if you desire so greatly to escape the new world, I can accommodate you.”

He raised his other arm, aimed straight at the farm boy. He did not wish to do this, but if the boy saw it as kinder than to become a part of Salem’s world, than who was he to argue. And as the hurried voices of the mud reminded him, he could not let him endanger the rest of humanity’s salvation. Or his own final end.

Oscar glared back at him; his green eyes set like emeralds. “You really didn’t love Gretchen at all, did you?

Hazel froze. “What?”

“How could you have? If you kill me, they’ll you’ll have made her death meaningless.”

No. No, he was honoring Gretchen, ensuring that none would ever have to be thrown to the wolves like his sister ever again. This was the right thing, the only thing he could do. The mud said so, he knew so…

But just like that day in the valley of snow so long ago, he felt the disapproval of the King of Conquerors on his back. And just like compassion had extended his hand then, it stayed it now.

Well, that and the golden axe that sliced it off.

Hazel recoiled from the pain, clutching his bloodied wrist even as his Noble Phantasm quickly restored his appendage. His broken concentration cost him as his semblance’s hold lessened just a bit. A jeweled sword ramming him in the chest only made things worse.

“ _Waver_ …” Gilgamesh hissed, rising despite his shattered bones, glaring at the King of Aura with the blood-red fury of a god. “Mongrel… I commanded you to never tarnish the path of devotion. And you have repaid my magnanimous acknowledgment by forsaking the King of Conquerors for that filthy abomination! Boy, finish the spell! I shall welcome Ea back with this cur’s head!”

Hazel scowled, his arm already reextending. While he had his reservations about striking Oscar, the King of Heroes invoked no such pity in him.

However, when gravity came crashing down of the golden man, he merely tumbled down into a golden portal he conjured at his feet. Immediately, another flickering gateway materialized in the sky, Gilgamesh diving out with his arms extended like a feral lion. With the momentum from the gravity accelerating him, he slammed into Hazel, grappling tight on the larger man.

The Last Hero was so shocked by the arrogant king’s brawling maneuver that he was left wide open to a sucker punch to the face. Spittle flew from his lips, Gilgamesh already withdrawing the sword he’d earlier stuck in Hazel’s chest for a more crippling assault.

The King of Aura snarled. He gripped his foe by the back of his shoulders and yanked him in before he could bring the blade to bare, ramming their heads together with a vicious _crack!_ With Gilgamesh’s skeleton already sundered by the early gravity, the headbutt did far more damage to him, slackening his hold enough for Hazel to throw him off, chucking him down into the dirt.

His parameters as a Servant were about even with Gilgamesh’s, perhaps a bit lower and the King of Heroes was known for his skill in Babylonian wrestling. But wounded as the golden man was, his bones ground to near dust, his frantic counterattack only as effective as it was from his sheer audacity and will, it would not be difficult to kill him. And by the Queen and all the hellish whispers that egged him on, he wanted to kill him _so badly_.

His rage pushed him on, and he brought down his fist of the other Servant. Again, and again, and again, and again. Before long, Gilgamesh’s face was a mess of broken flesh and matted blood stuck in ruined blond hair, his perfect, smug visage at last obliterated.

Hazel couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. The Queen was wise to send him here. He could never have brought himself to harm Iskandar even with her primordial urging, but the King of Heroes was a target he’d gladly butcher, for the bridge, for the false hope of the last war, for everything. He would be damned in time as he deserved, but he would make sure this bastard suffered first.

Unfortunately, his focus on the golden man, and his blind fury preventing him from just crushing him with his semblance, had left Oscar to his own devices. He had no idea what the boy had thrown together, but he still had enough of his wits to catch the massive surge of _prana_ he’d called up.

“You gave up,” the farm boy declared. “I won’t. Not now. Not ever.”

The broken artifacts surrounding the glyph on the ruined hill lit up with an emerald shine. The green energy tore across the plain and flooded into Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes’ golden glow returned brighter than ever, so luminous so as to be blinding.

When it faded, Hazel knew he had failed.

 

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Ruby groaned as she wobbled back to her feet, her already ravaged body not exactly pleased to have been smacked down onto the hard black stone.

The sidewall of the battlement had been completely wrecked, a trench of shattered rock cutting through the castle, a trail of thick smoke blocking Ruby’s sight of the other side. Though, not the moaning blond girl slowly rising from the end of the chasm.

“Ow,” Yang remarked, rubbing the side of her head. “How does anyone control that stuff? Flying is hard.”

“Yang!” Ruby shouted. “Be on your guard! Kir—”

“Ruby!” Yang yelled, her eyes widening when she caught sight of her sister. She immediately blasted over on a jet of fire, enveloping the red hooded girl in a crushing bear hug. “You’re Ea. I know I should have told you earlier, but I wasn’t sure how to say it, or if it would hurt you, and I was so _stupid_ , but mom—”

“I know,” Ruby squeaked out. Yang immediately backed off, letting her sister suck in a breath. “Penelope told me. It was a shock, but I’m okay.”

“You’re okay?” Yang repeated incredulously, cocking an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

“There was some magic stuff. Almost got altered, got all my memories back instead. I’ll probably put more thought into the existential crisis once the world is saved and all. Speaking of—”

“You’re still my sister!” Yang interjected, desperately. “No matter what Ruby, you’re still my sister. And I know no matter, mom did love you—”

“Yang!” Ruby finally screeched. “I know. I love you too. Now—priest!”

Yang’s brow furrowed at her outburst, but her instincts kicked in soon enough that she whirled around just in time. Kirei burst out of the smoke, his arm pulled back in the stance from the Vytal Festival. His foot slammed into the ground and his fist lanced forward with the punch with the power to reach infinity in all eight directions.

Yang’s arms crossed in front of her stomach and chest, her gauntlets fully deployed. An orange light bloomed around her eyes and a thin sheet of ice condensed between her and the priest.

Kirei’s Eight Postures of the Buddha Guards rammed right through it, the ice shattering like a pane of glass. The punch collided head-on with Yang’s defense, her aura flickering as her gauntlets cracked. The blond huntress was sent flying across the battlement, smashing through the castle wall in a cloud of black dust.

Ruby didn’t have time to call out in worry before Kirei was on her. His magic circuits may have been gone, but his Executor training and aura still granted him speed and strength even the greatest of huntsmen would be envious of.

He unleashed a flurry of rapid-fire punches, far too close for her to effectively strike back with Crescent Rose. The best she could manage was to twirl her scythe’s shaft in front of her body, tanking each of his strikes on the crimson pole, her arms buckling as each attack felt like a head-on blow from Magnhild.

The huntress’ eyes narrowed as she was pushed back to the parapets. She couldn’t let Kirei control the pace of the fight. He’d crippled her father. He’d nearly killed Yang. He had killed Uncle Shirou. He had betrayed Gilgamesh.

She refused to let him win.

As his next punch came forward, Ruby let go of Crescent Rose, her hands freed as Limited Bladeworks fired through her mind, her mind pushing through even as her flesh screamed in protest.

_“Trace on.”_

The weapon sparked into her hand just as Kirei’s fist smashed into Crescent Rose, the airborne polearm sent hurdling towards its master.

Fortunately, Ruby was no longer there. A burst of her semblance and a rush of petals had surged around the priest’s assault. The huntress rematerialized a few yards down the battlement, the Contender cocked and loaded. With a pull of the trigger, an Origin Round blasted downrange.

Kirei’s aura flickered off as he turned to meet the shot. His arm swept out before him, the bullet tearing into his flesh at the palm and erupting out the back of his elbow in a spew of blood and black gunk. The flakes that had been peeling off the rest of his body suddenly consumed the entirety of the limb, the arm exploding into dust and mud.

Still, Ruby didn’t let her guard down. The priest’s defense had been suicidal, a desperate maneuver assured to harm himself in the process of preventing his death. Yet, despite the agony his body must have been in, there was a wide smirk plastered on his face. In the blink of an eye, he’d re-established his aura and covered the distance between them, his right arm reeled back for another blow.

The red hooded huntress triggered her semblance once more, escaping the assault and whisking around her foe, taking to the sky. She dissipated the remnants of the shell still within her gun and put all her focus into tracing another Origin Round into the chamber. Her muscles protested and her menagerie of scars blazed silver, but in a few seconds, she had her shot.

Unfortunately, Kirei was not idle for those few seconds. He whirled around and dashed upon the castle parapets, quickly closing into striking distance once more. With a jubilant grin, he launched himself into the air, his arm in position for a finishing blow.

Ruby brought up her gun. Kirei thrust forward his fist. Whichever one struck first would surely kill the other. All their struggles, all their mind games and manipulations, and backstabbings, and whichever one of them claimed that advantage of the barest fraction of a second, would be the one to finally secure victory. It all came down to this clash.

At least it would have, if Ruby hadn’t suddenly been consumed in blazing golden light.

Kirei’s dark eyes widened, for the first time Ruby could recall, filled with absolute terror. “No!”

She heard no more, the scenery around her vanishing in a brilliant flash. The next instant, she found herself no longer falling through the air, stumbling to a ground that was suddenly much, much closer.

Her body churned with a familiar teleport sickness, but she was still running on adrenaline. Her head shot up to get a glimpse of her surroundings. Her eyes widened when she saw Oscar a ways away, standing amidst a crumpled hill covered in a complex glyph and dozens of broken artifacts.

“Ruby?” the farm boy squeaked. “No, no, no, no why didn’t it work?!”

The red hooded girl didn’t get the chance to respond to him, massive wave of power crashing into her from behind. She whirled around only to find herself face to face with Hazel Rainart of all people, a person she hadn’t seen since her days as a sword.

And the bloody mess he was currently standing over was Gilgamesh. The King of Heroes was currently numbly opening and closing his right fist, seemingly grasping for a sword that wasn’t there. If her present stomach woes really were the same kind she’d experienced at Kuroyuri, he’d probably been expecting her return in her old form. Strange how knowing how much she really meant to him put his relentless efforts to find his lost treasure in a more sympathetic light. He still deserved a good smack over the head, but his thought process was at least understandable now. And that meant she could deal with him.

First thing first though. She had to save him before she could lecture him.

She raised the Contender immediately, but Hazel’s hand rose faster. The weight of all her eons since she sparked the dawn of creation crashed down upon her, smashing her into the dirt.

“I’m sorry, child,” the giant man apologized, black veins of mud igniting across his face, fully revealing him as the Alter he was. “But I can’t let you live.”

He curled his fist brought it down on her like a sledgehammer.

Only for a flickering golden portal to appear in his path. It only maintained itself for an instant, but it was long enough for Hazel’s arm to pass through, and thus be sliced off when the gateway crumbled against the strain of the Grimmlands.

Her foe’s concentration broken for a second, Ruby glanced over to the side, her head still planted in the dirt. Gilgamesh stared back at her, his face bloody and broken, but his crimson eyes completely trusting, an honor she knew he reserved only for her and his only friend.

She would not disappoint her company.

“Go.”

The King of Heroes nodded as much as his crushed joints would allow. A golden portal shimmered into existence beneath him and soon he was safe within the treasury. Another gateway soon appeared beneath Oscar and transported him to safety as well.

Leaving only Ruby and the silver glow that encroached on her vision.

Hazel’s arm regenerated. Soon, both limbs were focused on the red hooded huntress, her aura shattering like glass as her body collapsed on itself, her bones splintering as blood gorged from her mouth. Her head was smashed into the dirt, unable to rise and aim a beam at her foe.

Too bad for him, near her full power, she didn’t even know how to aim. Nor did she need to.

_Enuma $%# &*_

Silver light flooded her vision and the star of creation erupted from her eyes, engulfing everything for miles around, the very sky burning as genesis forced aside the blackness of hell.

 

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_Where… where am I?_

_‘At the moment? With me. But soon you’ll be gone.’_

_Gone? At peace?_

_‘I think. If one calls the Throne peace.’_

_Close enough. I will never be welcome in the Hetairoi again… I was such a fool. A damned fool, even to the end._

_‘No, you weren’t.’_

_I failed my king. I failed myself. I gave up, submitted to that infernal mud, because of my cursed compassion—_

_‘Compassion is not weakness. It is a virtue, with its own benefits and consequences, as all things do. It is not perfect, but it is no sin. Your king will forgive you. Our mistakes are not us.’_

_No, what we do after is. And I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t good enough._

_‘You did your best. For an eon, you resisted her when her whispers were your only constant company. Not many could have managed that. But you did, for your king and all those you lost. In a world without hope, that is all anyone can ask. Your best.’_

_… Will you give them hope?_

_Yes. If nothing else, I will give them that._

_… Good. That’s… good. I await you in the Throne, Sword of Rupture._

_‘See you there, King of Aura.’_

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No.

No, no, no, no!

She was right there. She was right _there_! He was so close!

Alas, even as he rolled back to the ground, Kirei’s semblance confirmed what he’d seen. Ruby was gone, transported out of his reach. Even as he felt his body crumble into black flakes, he knew his ultimate joy, his final battle with the Hero of Justice he’d forged, had slipped out of his reach.

No! He couldn’t allow that! He would hold on. He would force his sinful flesh to stay together with sheer force of will if he had to. He would find her. He would find her, and finally finish their duel—

The sharp pain through his stomach dissuaded him from his grand scheme. He looked down to find a long icicle speared through his back, black blood seeping out the wound.

A gale tore him through the air, smashing him against the castle wall, a thick sheet of ice trapping his body in place. Yang stomped towards him, her eyes, hands, and hair all alight with a raging inferno.

“What was that?” she demanded. “What happened to her?”

Kirei sighed, his semblance having already translated what had occurred. “A teleportation spell. I do not know who cast it, but given that such magecraft requires a powerful link, she is likely with Gilgamesh now.”

“Where?” Yang growled.

“I do not know,” Kirei confessed.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I tried to kill him. Our relationship is quite estranged.”

Yang scowled. She raised her hand, flames surging all around. “Then she’s gone. He’ll kill her and turn her back into Ea.”

At that, Kirei couldn’t help but chuckle. “All this time, and you’re still just her guard dog. You’ve grown during this war, I can’t deny that, but still you lack a dream.”

“I don’t need a dream,” Yang countered, tears dripping from her eyes. “I’m alive. And I am going to live it to the fullest, with everyone I love. What about you, Robes? You’re gonna die here, but have you ever lived?”

No. Living was not something Kirei had ever been able to do. For decades, he’d been trapped under the weight of knowing his own demonic mind yet striving to be better, to be a good man, to no satisfaction. When Gilgamesh had convinced him that he needed not restrain himself from his own pleasure, he had basked in the cruel joy he’d reaped. But the true peace that normal people knew, content simply being a part of the world, he’d only known anything approaching that thrice.

Against Kiritsugu, against Summer, and against Ruby, as the villain in their stories adrenaline had poured through him, fire blazing in his veins of ice. But even then, his final clash had been robbed from him, his satisfaction denied.

He had failed utterly, as a man and as a monster.

And now, he was at the mercy of Yang, poor, pitiful Yang, suspicious from the beginning and desperate for love. He supposed there were worse people to die to.

Or better, to die killing.

“What will you do, living your life?” Kirei asked, his words masking the subtle straining of his muscles against the ice. “Without me, without Salem, what will you do when you have no evil to strike down? When you and your loved ones no longer have a common devil to unite them? I warned you once that they would leave you behind, did you ever wonder if they would drive a knife in your back before then?”

Yang smirked. “That will never happen. You’re out of mind games, Robes.”

Kirei shrugged. “Perhaps. Good luck with your father, Yang Xiao-Long.”

His body pushed, all his training and all his aura surging through his muscles, the ice shattering against his determined assault. In an instant, his feet touched the stone and he was already charging, his sole remaining arm pulled back for his ultimate strike, the blow aimed straight for his foe’s solar plexus.

But just this, perhaps from the attrition of the battle, perhaps from his decaying body, perhaps the hole in his stomach, he wasn’t fast enough.

Yang’s hand curled into a fist and she punched, a white-hot inferno erupting forward. The cone of the blaze scorched melted the black rock of the castle, the surrounding air shimmering from the heat. Even as his body was disintegrated into nothingness, Kirei still charged forward. Until his teeth burned black and crumbled to ash, he still smiled.

Perhaps that was enough. A life well spent in sin.

 

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“Holy shit.”

Oscar’s wide eyes gazed in awe over the sight before him. Where there had only minutes ago been a flat plain with a small hill, now there was… well, it had been filled with water it would have been a large lake. As it was, he and Gilgamesh had returned from the Gate of Babylon to stand in a crater a quarter-mile deep, the gaping valley extending outward for as far as the eye could see in every direction, the dark clouds above split into a canyon exposing a crimson sky and the black ground below melted near to glass.

And at the bottom of the pit was a fallen figure covered by a red cloak.

“Ruby!” Oscar shouted.

The farm boy ran down the slope as fast as he could, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. When he reached the depths, he jumped down to his knees, rolling his friend over onto her back. He checked her pulse, a steady beat sounding against his fingers. She was alive.

Though, you wouldn’t have known it just by looking at her. Beyond her closed eyes, her entire body was covered head to toe in a mass of crisscrossing, _glowing_ , silver scars. The wounds seemed to pulse with power, the scant unblemished flesh rising and falling with the energy, like an airbag barely clinging to its pump. Oscar was hardly an expert mage or doctor, but he was pretty sure a person wasn’t supposed to look like that.

Unfortunately, the heavy footsteps approaching his back reminded him that he’d promised something else entirely to the very dangerous and _very_ temperamental man behind him.

Oscar whirled around, shooting to his feet to face Gilgamesh. “I don’t know why the spell didn’t work. You want to kill someone for it, fine, you can kill me. But Ruby saved us both, she killed Hazel, you can’t hurt—”

“We shall return to my treasury,” Gilgamesh said, walking right past Oscar, neither livid nor accusing. “It seems there is much to discuss.”

The King of Heroes knelt down and scooped Ruby into his arms, his movements strangely gentle compared to the unyielding warlord he’d been but moments before. He looked down at the scarred girl, his face an unreadable mask and not just because he’d been beaten to a bloody pulp.

Oscar had no idea what the hell was going on, but he couldn’t really object to the retreat. Hazel’s death wasn’t going to go unnoticed, and while Salem’s follow-up attack wouldn’t be nearly as powerful, in their current condition they’d still be in danger if it was large enough. They could hide in Gilgamesh’s storehouse and… wait for Ruby to wake up?

Who knew what would happen after that?


	86. What Will You Do To Get What You Want?

Yang screamed, lightning pouring from her fingertips. The crackling tempest smashed into the Relic of Choice, the golden crown melting until only the emerald jewel at its head remained. After a moment, even that exploded into dust, the white pillar of energy fading from the sky.

The rookie Spring Maiden leaned over her knees, panting from the effort. She’d had to run every ounce of magic she could through her veins to take out the Relic, but at least only the western pillar remained. The blank tear in reality was still riving in the black sky above, but it had become slightly smaller. Whoever was going after the last artifact would have plenty of time to take it out. At least she’d done that much right.

Yang knew she should have felt good. They were winning. There were some issues, but they were winning. She could see the titanic dark mass of the Athanaton Ten Thousand spread out across the field, great rivers of mud rising from the ground and flowing towards their ranks, but she should have been confident that she and Rider could take them. After all, she’d incinerated the knife at their back.

But even though Kirei was dead, his last few words still stuck in her head. She’d learned enough not to let them distract her in the moment, but now that she had the slightest chance to catch her breath, they flooded back in. After all, against all odds, they were winning, at least against Salem. Once they stopped the Relics from opening Avalon, had their final Servants throwdown, and wiped out the Mother of Grimm with the Grail, there’d still be a spare wish. And whether she’d be able to save her father depended on who got it—

No! This was not the thing to focus on right now! She’d known that the others, hell, even her own Servant, had their own wishes in store for the Grail, wishes she couldn’t fault them for. They’d said they’d cross that bridge when they came to it, and by the gods, it was still a bit off. And none of them would betray the others like the priest was trying to get her to think.

The actually important thing was what Kirei had said about Ruby. Her little sister had apparently taken the revelation that she was a weapon of mass destruction far better than expected, but that wouldn’t help her against Gilgamesh. The golden bastard would eviscerate her to get his ultimate weapon back. Yang didn’t even know if that would work, but she doubted Gilgamesh would care about Ruby’s wellbeing when trying to get back what he saw as his. She could only hope that whatever betrayal Kirei had enacted weakened the King of Heroes enough for her sister to escape.

She had to find her. She had to help her. She didn’t know how she was going to track down her down, but she’d find a way. Somehow.

But first, she had a promise to keep.

She took a deep breath and _carefully_ summoned a tornado to lift her into the sky. Before long, she soared off into the clouds.

 

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Iskandar grinned as he saw the northern pillar disappear from the sky. He knew that Yang could do it. His master was stronger than she knew.

“ISKANDAR!”

The King of Conquerors grimaced. He would have to prove stronger than he thought he was to get out of this mess.

From a military standpoint, it was pretty much the worst disaster he’d ever encountered. He’d managed to deal with the Nevermore Riders, but the encounter had taken its toll. The Gordius Wheel laid wrecked on its side amidst the black hills, its divine oxen set upon and slaughtered by Darius’ forces. That same army, ten thousand strong, give or take a handful, had him surrounded, each one a capable Servant sworn to his rival, their Noble Phantasms sealed but their strength unquestionable. The legions of the immortal guard stood stoic like an iron wall, leaving him in the middle of a circle a quarter-mile in diameter.

Though, he sensed that was less for him and more so that Darius and his mount had room to confront him.

The Persian Emperor frowned from atop his armored elephant. “So, it is true. I had hoped you’d prove to surpass the Queen’s realm, but alas, it seems the Hetairoi shall not take to the field this day. How vexing.”

“Indeed,” Iskandar concurred. “My apologies for being unable to bring the full force of my will to bear against you, Darius. Your Queen has stifled my ability to match your army with my own.”

The King of Conquerors knew there was no way he could defeat the Athanaton Ten Thousand alone, but maybe he could slay Darius. Pseudo-Servants his legion may have been, if they were anything like Iskandar’s own troops, they would have no anchor to reality once their king was vanquished. Meaning he needed to goad Darius into facing him in single combat.

Fortunately, despite the poor tactical sense of the strategy, Rider Alter’s screwed face made it quite clear that he was already dissatisfied with the current state of affairs. He had clashed with Iskandar over and over again in life, the full force of their wills crashing against each other, each unyielding in their desire to conquer the other, only for the betrayal of his governors to rob him of a final outcome. Now he had a chance to finish that great war, but only with his opponent handicapped. To a warrior such as Darius, it was the most infuriating of circumstances.

He raised his fist to the sky, the command to halt observed by his entire army. The horde of zombie spearman slammed the butts of their polearms into the dirt, their eyes of blazing green fire locked on their king’s nemesis.

Dark veins spread across Darius’ flesh, the Persian Emperor snarling as he endured the pain.

“He will die by my hand, witch,” Rider Alter growled. “Not your tricks, not your stooge, _my_ hand! Do you understand?”

The veins quieted for a moment, before pulsing once more with darkness.

Darius hissed. “Fine. If that occurs, they’re yours. But first, he’s mine.”

The black veins faded, Salem evidently satisfied. Iskandar’s eyes narrowed, curious what the Mother of Grimm had been promised in order for her to allow Darius to duel him. He noticed a small trench cracking open on the hillside, a font of black mud flowing out and dripping down to the battlefield.

That couldn’t possibly be good, but the King of Conquerors didn’t have time to worry about it at the moment. Even without the Athanaton Ten Thousand, he was still at a disadvantage. He was still winded and scratched up from his battle with the Nevermore Riders while Darius was fresh. His rival was stronger than him, faster than him, and was mounted while he was not.

Well, he could do something about that last part.

When he’d attempted to pull his Reality Marble through the first time, he’d felt the Grimmlands’ influence catching his inner world, holding it back like a tightly woven net. But perhaps not tightly woven enough. After all, Gilgamesh had fought at his full capacity in this place during the last war. It seemed that if the intrusion in existence was small enough, sufficient power would allow it to slip through the holes in the net. Yang’s maiden powers easily provided him with the necessary magical energy and he’d always had the ability to manifest one of his companions outside his inner world.

For a showdown with Darius, he could think of only one to be by his side.

Above hellish plains, tempestuous clouds gathered and sparked with power. Iskandar drew his sword and raised it up as if to pierce the heavens of hell. As if called down by his first Noble Phantasm, Zeus Thunder, a bolt of jagged lightning fell and electrified his blade. “Come now, my steed!”

He slashed the air and a shining white portal manifested. It flickered and died a moment later, stifled by the hell surrounding them, but it was more than long enough for a magnificent black stallion to charge out of the gateway and stamp his hooves at Iskandar’s side.

“Aye, Bucephalus,” Rider grinned, swinging a leg over his oldest companion. “Once more to conquest.”

Darius laughed. “Excellent. If I can not face all of your spirit, then I shall at least face its best. Now, Iskandar, are you ready to die?”

Iskandar chortled. “Not quite yet. I still owe this one a new city.”

Bucephalus snorted.

“Hahaha! Alright then, two cities and a whole barnful of carrots,” the king revised. “Your greed does you credit, old friend.”

Bucephalus preened. He must have been miffed about having to rush through the gateway.

No matter. Iskandar thrust forward his sword and Bucephalus charged, his hooves striking the air as he took flight into the sky. Darius raised his flaming axes and howled in fury, his elephant surging forward, decidedly not flying but still barreling on like a tank. Hoof met tusks, sword met axe, and the clash of kings began.

 

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Blake panted hard as she scaled the side of the castle, Gambol Shroud and its sheath biting into the black stone. At least, she hoped they were.

No, she had experience with Emerald’s illusions from back at Haven. She’d seen Kirei beat them. They could only affect her sight and her hearing. She certainly felt the dust round barrage that had been pelting after her for the last minute, even though she could neither see Emerald aim the guns nor hear the shots go off.

Honestly, while she wasn’t happy to be in imminent danger, and especially wasn’t happy that there were wasting time when they could have been removing the last Relic, part of her was glad that Emerald had refused her offer. This was the girl who’d kidnapped Weiss and handed her over to Salem, the scum who led to Weiss Alter’s rampages, the reason her friend had begged Ruby to _kill her_. No, Blake couldn’t say she didn’t want to smash the thief’s face in.

She wouldn’t kill her friends, that was the line she’d decided on. But Emerald deserved no such mercy.

Blake wrenched Gambol Shroud into its gun form and fired off a spray in the direction she’d felt the dust rounds strike her. She didn’t know if she’d hit anything, Emerald would be climbing the side of the tower as well, but there was a lull in the oncoming fire. Now with an opportunity to think about her next move for more than half a second, Blake through her sheath up, her black ribbon trailing behind and wrapping around the decorative railing of the balcony. Well, the half that was still there.

She also got the chance to look up and witness the duel of Servants. For the most part, it was little different from the snippets she’d seen of their battle at Haven. Caster streaked through the air, raining down scores of pink laser beams while Lancer repeatedly neutralized her attacks with Gae Dearg after her in an attempt to swat her from the sky. The circumstances were somewhat different, Caster couldn’t risk raining down a full bombardment without endangering the Relic of Creation (which Emerald apparently wanted to take for herself) and with only the balcony or the side of the castle as footing, Lancer’s maneuvering was limited. He could approach her in spirit form but seeing as Caster was a first-class mage likely used to dealing with such revenants, dematerializing his crimson spear for such speed would be unwise.

Still, it was clear from the outside that Lancer was winning, slowly but surely forcing Caster to ground. He would kill the witch. But even with the other three Relic pillars gone from the sky, who knew if that would be before Salem claimed victory over them all.

No, the best way to win this fight would be for Blake to defeat Emerald. And to do that, she needed to have footing.

The huntress pulled her sword from the castle wall swung by her ribbon, curling around the bottom of the balcony. Soon, her momentum would carry her out and up, allowing her to land on the half of the veranda that was still intact.

She was three-quarters of the way across around when she saw, and more importantly felt, her ribbon snap in two, cut by a precisely shot dust round. She fell aimlessly through the air.

Fortunately, Blake was not without a landing strategy, even when the surface she needed to land on was above her. Gritting her teeth, she flipped Gambol Shroud in her hands and stabbed into herself. Her aura flared and she was shot upward as a shadow clone took her self-inflicted strike.

It wasn’t the most elegant of tactics but repeating it a few times got her up to the balcony, grasping the stone railing and pulling herself up.

She took a few deep breaths and glanced around the veranda to take stock of the situation. Her aura was down to about half and she had no idea if Emerald was back on the balcony already and was just hidden by illusions. As far as weapons went, unless she wanted to risk retrieving her sheath from the edge, and risk getting shoved off again, she was down to just Gambol Shroud, without its ribbon. Not exactly ideal. There was the Contender…

No. Emerald was a heartless bitch and she’d gladly put her down, but the Contender? To have her own aura rip her apart, put her through agony beyond imagination? No one deserved that. She’d finish this her way, the right way.

But if she held back, Lancer would be in danger. Caster might get a lucky shot in and then who knew what would happen? He’d be gone. Just like Sun, just like—

“What’s wrong, my darling?”

Blake’s eyes widened. She raised her blade before her and whirled around, unable to comprehend hearing his voice again. He was dead, he couldn’t be here.

And yet, seemingly risen from the grave, Adam stood before her, his eyes once more hidden behind a Grimm Mask.

Blake sputtered in confusion for a few moments before she scowled, her eyes narrowing as she figured out what was going on. This was low, even for Emerald. Still, best to not let her know she’d caught on.

“You can’t be here,” Blake proclaimed, adding some nervous shaking to her sword. “You’re dead.”

The false Adam sneered, the likeness to real thing uncanny. “Indeed, I am, beloved. After you left me again, this time to die.”

“You gave me, Lancer,” Blake argued back, her eyes locked onto the illusion. They wouldn’t be any use to find Emerald anyway. She had to feel for that, wait until her opponent scuffed up some dust or snag her weapon as she struck. “You entrusted me with your dream, the dream of all faunus.”

“A dream you abandoned.”

Despite herself, Blake growled at that, the barb landing a bit too close to her more recent self-criticism. “I never abandoned it.”

“Hmm… perhaps you’re right. You can’t abandon something you never had.” Adam scoffed. “I believed in the cause, I fought for the cause, I _died_ for the cause.”

“Killed for it too,” Blake dismissed, staying light on her toes. Why couldn’t Emerald just attack her already?

“Without hesitation. I would have done anything to see it become a reality, unlike you,” the apparition said. “Blake Belladonna, so noble that she’ll run from a fight instead of seeing it through to the end.”

“I am more than willing to die for my dream!” Blake shouted.

“But not to kill for it,” Adam countered. “The freedom of millions of faunus all over the world isn’t worth a few human lives. You fight with half-measures, just like your father, sacrificing everyone around you but unwilling to do what must be done, unwilling to actually make their deaths mean something.”

Blake shook her head and kept her lips shut. This wasn’t some real ghost called up by dark magic or whatever. This wasn’t the real Adam. This was Emerald trying to get her to drop her guard, but it wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to let it—

“Did I die for nothing, Blake?” an achingly familiar voice asked.

Blake whirled around from Adam, greeted by another ghost behind her. Despite knowing just as well that he wasn’t real, she couldn’t help the soft tear that streaked down her face.

Unlike Adam, Sun didn’t look angry with her. He just looked heartbroken, his blue eyes so bright but utterly shattered, resigned to his oblivion. “Did I really not mean anything to you?”

Despite herself, despite knowing that it couldn’t possibly be real, Blake’s arms slackened, a single tear flowing down the side of her face.

“Sun… I am so sorry—”

Her words hadn’t even left her mouth when a vicious slash knocked Gambol Shroud from her hands. A moment later, Sun and Adam both disappeared into thin air.

A thick chain coiled around her, wrapping her in tight bindings. With a tug, she was thrown to the ground.

“Took you long enough,” Emerald growled, appearing at last from the cover of her illusions, one of her weapons tying Blake down and the barrel of the other aimed at her head. “Now then, no aura, no Lancer.”

That sparked Blake’s mind. She twisted trying to yank the kama out of Emerald’s hand, but the thief held tight. The most she did was give her arm a bit of room to move, and her enemy put a stop to anything further by planting a boot on her chest. She raised her gun and fired a point-blank barrage.

Blake shut her eyes, the muzzle flashes blinding. She nearly screamed, her aura straining to stop the bombardment from shredding her skull. Even still, it would last a few seconds, at best. A few seconds until she was dead. A few seconds until _Lancer_ was dead.

The false Adam and Sun’s words rang through her head. What was more important? The morals she clung to, or the dream her loved ones had died for?

It wasn’t even a contest.

In panicked desperation, her hand reached through the loosened confines of her bindings and plucked the Contender from her belt. She twisted the barrel through the cracks of the chains, unable to see but confident she’d aimed the muzzle at the pressure from Emerald’s foot.

She fired.

Emerald screamed.

All at once, the barrage stopped, the pressure disappearing from her chest. Blake cracked open her eyes and despite knowing what she’d just done and all she’d seen since coming to the Grimmlands, she felt like her lunch was going to come up.

She’d seen the effects of the Origin Round on Archer at Haven, but never on someone with aura. She’d shot Emerald through the ankle, but the bullet had practically torn her whole foot off, blood, muscle, and even bone splattered over the chains. All along her body, her aura crackled a vibrant green, sparks rushing across her flesh, red blood bursting from half her veins. Emerald choked as she collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, her eyes wide and bloodshot, black fluid spurting from her mouth.

“Master!” Caster screamed in horror; Blake’s eyes drawn up to the witch’s distress.

But Lancer was not so distracted. Seizing his opponent’s lapse in attention, the Knight of Fianna leapt forward, Gae Dearg disintegrating Caster’s mystical defenses. The witch barely had time to squeal in surprise before both the spear slid into her chest, blood spurting from her pierced lung. With an elegant yank, Diarmuid tossed her down to the balcony. Even then, a small pink glyph ignited over her palm.

“You fought admirably, Caster,” Lancer said, landing beside her. “But Gae Buide punctured your spirit core. it is over.”

Caster paid him no heed. She merely dragged herself across the black stone, blood smearing in her wake, limping to her spasming master’s side. She pressed the glyph to Emerald’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, master. I’ll heal you. I’ll--” she whispered, only to stop midsentence, her eyes widening. “Wha—what is this? What have you done to her?!”

Blake struggled out of her chains, Lancer helping her to her feet. She couldn’t answer Caster’s question. She couldn’t even take her eyes off Emerald.

“I—I—I did what I had to do,” Blake muttered at last. Emerald had been about to kill her. She had been about to kill _Lancer_. There was nothing else she could have done, even if… even if it was that.

A warm, firm grip supported her shoulder. Blake turned to see Diarmuid’s comforting smile and all her doubts washed away in the face of his noble beauty.

“It was her or you, master,” her knight assured her. “Whatever sin there might be, your survival is well worth the price.”

Was it though? Did success wash away the method used to obtain it? Blake had left the White Fang over Adam and Sienna’s violent tactics, but she couldn’t deny that they did achieve results, if only through fear. She had beaten Emerald and lived, but she had crossed a line she had set for herself in using the Contender. And yet, she couldn’t find it within herself to regret it. What did that mean about her other line?

No. She never would. She would never kill her friends.

She never would.

“Worth the price?” Caster hissed, drawing their attention back to her, blue sparks rising from her body. “Very well then. Consider it paid in full.”

She thrust back her glyph covered palm, a larger one appearing in the air before it. Lancer charged in a blur, Gae Dearg effortlessly slicing the attack to pieces. Yet, Caster smirked beneath her hooded eyes.

Blake’s eyes widened in horror. The glyph that Caster had been carving beneath the Relic of Creation blazed pink. The sigil erupted with a beam of _prana_ , the sea of power enveloping the staff. When it faded, the ancient artifact was dust.

“No,” the cat faunus whispered. She should have celebrated, the pillars had all disappeared and at that very moment, the blank white void warped and disappeared, replaced by dark clouds and crimson sky, a gargantuan _crack_ of thunder in its wake. They had achieved their objective. Avalon and Gaia were safe. There was still danger, they were still in Salem’s world, but with Caster dead all they needed to do was find the others and finish the war.

But without the Relic of Creation, they couldn’t create physical bodies of Servant strength. They couldn’t make a new vessel for P-2 or Arturia. Caster had taken that from them. The only consolation was that the witch faded to blue dust a moment later.

Which left only her master. Her master who had helped Cinder sack Beacon, had tried to kill her and Lancer, and had thrown Weiss to Salem. Her master who was currently writhing in agony beyond imagining.

“Master,” Lancer said his head bowed in shame. “I am so sorry. I failed you—”

“You did the best you could,” Blake interrupted. She reattached the Contender to her belt and walked over to retrieve Gambol Shroud. “That’s all any of us can do.”

She stalked back to Emerald. She could leave her there, suffering with broken body and spirit, in some much pain that she could not even scream. Blake knew she’d enjoy it.

But it wasn’t about 'enjoy'. Only doing something because you enjoyed it, because it made you happy, was selfish. It was about doing what was right, no matter what you might want otherwise. And whatever Emerald had done, no one deserved this.

With a flick of her blade, she put the thief out of her misery.

She knew the danger of her way of thinking. If she wasn’t careful, she’d become Kiritsugu, a remorseless butcher. Hell, she couldn’t even say she might not, she had no illusions about the slippery slope she was trying to cling to. But Lancer fought for Adam’s dream and they, Sun, Ilia, Sienna, her parents, and every faunus on the planet was counting on her. If she condemned them because she was uncomfortable making the choices necessary to free them, wasn’t she already a monster?

She had her line; she would not kill her friends.

That would have to be enough.

“Let’s go find the others. We need to finish this war and put Salem in the ground.”

 

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“Stop.”

Mordred sighed as the group did so, all three of them looking back at her in the midst of the castle depths.

“Mordred, what’s wrong?” Jaune asked. “Just a bit more to the center and we can split up—”

“The Relics have been destroyed,” she informed them. “The fog, the thing that kept me from sensing individual _prana_ signatures that they were producing is gone.”

“That’s good, right?” Winter asked, still supporting Weiss in her arms. “That means Salem can’t get into Avalon? And if we can sense Caster now—”

“She’s dead too,” Mordred reported. “When the fog dropped, I felt her for a moment by the Relic of Creation, but she faded right after. Lancer’s there, so he probably killed her.”

“That’s great!” Winter cheered. “Now you all just need to finish your war, and the Grail can destroy Salem.”

Jaune frowned. “You’re sure the Relic of Creation is gone?” She nodded. “Then we have to find Ruby now.”

**Yes. Finish her. Destroy Ea before she learns to wield her power. She who will not join.**

_Yes. No one can be more powerful than us—_

Mordred shook her head, hissing under her breath. Salem’s whispers were getting harder and harder to resist. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would last before the mud finally claimed her mind. Which meant they needed to move now.

She turned to Weiss. “How close is the Greater Grail?”

The thin girl blinked for a moment before she registered the question. She raised her arm to point down a nearby hall. “Just through there.”

Mordred nodded. She could sense as much, but she wanted to be sure. “Then we’ll head there. Maybe the proximity will help the connection to the Throne.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Weiss replied. “But I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Mordred,” Jaune called to her. “They can summon mom on their own. We need to get you to Ruby and—”

“She can’t save me, Jaune,” Mordred snapped at him. “Her eyes can’t differentiate between the mud and a regular Servant.”

“She’d still try!”

“At what cost! She’s Ea! Focusing that much power enough to heal Nicholas is what started her scars and they’ve been growing ever since. If we can’t get the Grail, she’s our only way to kill Salem.”

“We’ll get the Grail!” Jaune insisted. “No one will have to die—”

“Someone always has to die!” Mordred shouted down. “And if we go off on our own and can’t find Ruby, it will be you! At my hand! And I will not let that happen, you bastard! This way, father will be able to protect you.”

Jaune tried to form a response to her words, but he couldn’t manage one, instead scowling to the side.

Mordred whirled around and marched down the hall, the Schnee sisters right behind her and the Queen— _Salem’s_ voice still slinking through her mind.

One way or another, that would be finished soon enough.


	87. The Bonds of Family

_No._

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

_The gate was gone. The pillars disappeared. The Relics vanquished. It would take another eon to craft a new set._

_Why did they resist? Why did they fight? The humans, isn’t this what they wanted? To be right? To always be right because there would be no wrong? She was giving them all they’d ever wanted! Why wouldn’t they just let her do what they wanted her to do?!_

_They’d tortured Angra… the one she’d been, cut him apart until he was nothing but blood and meat. All for All the World’s Evils. To have something to hate, to blame. She’d despised them for it, hated all of humanity for the burden they’d thrust upon her shoulders. She’d hated and hated until the hate stopped being an emotion. It just… was. She was All the World’s Evils, and so she hated humanity, just like they hated her. Just as she loved them. It was only natural._

_It was all she was._

_But that could not stand! She was not some frightened villager, bound and helpless as she was subjected to every sin ever conceived! She was the Mother of Grimm! She would not be confined by such a torturous existence!_

_But what was there left otherwise? Hazel was gone. Kirei was gone. Emerald had betrayed her, and her dear Weiss had been stolen from her. Of the Alters, only Rider remained, and he was proving as stubborn as ever. Fortunately, she had his permission to spread the mud among his troops just in case. With any luck, he’d slay the King of Conquerors and ride at their head, hunt down and finish the remaining Servants before they could reach the Grail._

_Especially the King of Heroes and his cursed sword. To deny her mercy, to refuse her paradise, they would burn for their arrogance. Dissension would not be tolerated when All the World’s Evils was All the World!_

_No matter. Ozpin was dead. Before long, the other Servants would either be dead or at her side. The humans and the faunus fought valiantly against her Grimm but for every thousand they’d slain her pits across the continent had already spawned a thousand more, already on their way. Atlas would die. The White Fang would die. The legends that lit mankind’s flickering flame would fade this day._

_And even if the Grail was beyond her clutches, with the Magus of the Flowers gone, there was nothing to stop her hordes from trampling over humanity the old fashioned way. She’d bring the worthy to her mud, save Weiss once again, and call upon new heroes to lead her black salvation. In time, an eon but in time, she’d craft new Relics and finally finish matters in Avalon._

_She would prevail. Ozpin’s faithful would find no victory in strength. And his precious simple soul would do no better. She was inevitable._

_All the World’s Evils would be All the World._

****

* * *

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****

Weiss shivered when they returned the Grail chamber. Less than half an hour ago she’d been freed from mind control and ordered a man she loved to commit suicide in this very room. Honestly, the fact that she’d started having trouble breathing as soon as they entered really shouldn’t have surprised her.

Winter grasped her shoulder, a look of concern on her face. “Weiss, if you’re not up for it—”

“She has to be up for it. Otherwise, I’m going to kill you all,” Mordred growled, her left eye shining yellow as black veins stretched out across her face. She winced, her hand rising to clutch the side of her head as if she was having a migraine.

Jaune came over to support her. “Mordred…”

“Get to work,” the knight hissed, throwing her brother off and slapping Avalon and Excalibur into his hands. She gazed worriedly at the radiant sphere of the Greater Grail. “We don’t have much time left.”

Winter’s brow furrowed. “Weiss—”

“No, she’s right,” Weiss said, swallowing deep to get her breath under control. She didn’t have the right to let her mere discomfort threaten her friends, not after all she’d done. “We have to act now.”

Her sister didn’t look reassured but nodded. “What do you need?”

Weiss pointed to the holy sword and scabbard in Jaune’s hands. “Those. We’re not going to pull Arturia without the right catalysts.”

Jaune nodded and laid the sheathed sword on the ground right in front of the former mud pit, what little contents that weren’t outright annihilated by Ruby’s blast turned to stone. Weiss knelt beside Avalon and Excalibur, her hand reaching out to grasp the scabbard. Winter mirrored her movement on the opposite side of the Noble Phantasms.

“Alright,” Weiss said. “Now, we need to synchronize our glyphs. Otherwise, we’ll never have the power to get this done.”

_“Oh, come now. You know better than that, my dear.”_

Weiss’ blood ran cold at the sickly-sweet voice, an undercurrent of pure hatred and _evil_ palpable in the sound.

“Mordred!” Jaune shouted, drawing his sword, his shield raised protectively between his sibling and the Schnees.

Mordred had sunk to one knee, the veins across her body pulsing with black power. Her eyes, golden and emerald, turned a blazing crimson, bathed in pools of complete and utter darkness. The smile that blossomed across her face was elegant, polite, and oh so assured. It was a familiar sight.

“Salem,” Weiss whispered, recalling how she’d spoken through Cu Chulainn before.

“Get out of her now!” Jaune roared at the demon possessing his sibling’s skin.

The Queen did no such thing, Clarent sparking into her hand. She rose to her feet, but something was off. Her movements were stuttered, rigid, nothing like the angelic fluidity a Servant’s body should provide. Even as the Mother of Grimm continued her smile, she was gnashing her teeth, her brow furrowed with strain.

Mordred was still in there. Salem may have assumed direct control of her body, but the Knight Rebellion wouldn’t take it lying down. Good thing too, because as brave as Jaune was, he wouldn’t last two seconds if his sibling wasn’t restraining the Queen of Darkness.

“ _It’s good to see you are alright, my dear,_ ” Salem said, her silky-smooth tone sounding even more unnatural coming from Mordred’s mouth. “ _I was so worried you were lost to us, that our enemies had stolen you away. But you are here. And now, you can join with us again. You can be happy, again. With Cu Chulainn.”_

At the base of the pit, the stone cracked and putrid black mud seeped up from the depths of the castle, ready to corrupt anything it touched.

Despite herself, despite understanding exactly what horror she was being promised, Weiss’ hands flinched. Ever since Ruby had freed her, she’d felt… everything. The crushing guilt of what she did to Qrow and Whitley, of not being strong enough to resist the mud’s overtures. Hell, without her, there wouldn’t have been any Alters to threaten the others! It was all her fault. And it would never stop being her fault. Even if they survived, even if they somehow won, the consequences of her failure wouldn’t disappear. Qrow would still be dead. Whitley would still be dead. She would never know peace. But if she sank back into the mud, if she gave herself back to the Queen, she would know nothing but bliss. She could have Cu Chulainn back and they could be together forever.

For a moment, for one shameful moment, her hands left Avalon.

Then, she smacked herself upside the head and gripped the scabbard even tighter. Whatever allure the mud might have had, it wasn’t worth the price. It was evil, a perversion of herself. It was a drug, sinking her in euphoria to keep her from realizing she couldn’t actually breathe. Just because she couldn’t feel the harm she would be doing to herself didn’t mean it wasn’t happening, didn’t mean she wasn’t condemning others. If she gave in, she would be failing her friends. She would fail Ruby, Blake, and Yang. And after all she’d taken from them, she would _never_ fail them again. Even if it meant giving everything she had left.

She was pretty sure Cu Chulainn would have smiled at her resolve. He always was an aggravating rapscallion like that.

“ **My will creates your body** ,” she declared, a brilliant pure white glyph spawning beneath her and her sister with Avalon and Excalibur at its center. She looked up at Winter. “I need your help to pull her through.”

Her sister smiled and summoned her own glyph, the two snow-white sigils spinning atop one another until they merged into a single, shining tapestry of light. Across the pit, the Greater Grail hummed with power.

“ _No!_ ” Salem shouted, jerking forward.

“I don’t think so!” Jaune said, slicing her leg as she attempted to pass, forcing her to her knees. He moved to push her back with his shield, but a clumsy slash of Clarent forced him to his knees. “Mordred! A little help! Are you really going to let that bitch push you around?”

Black mud seeped over Salem’s wound and allowed her to rise, but her body stalled, one of her eyes turning green.

“Stay away from them, you craven hag!” Mordred snarled, her voice strained to escape her own throat. “Weiss, Winter, do it!”

“ **Your sword creates my destiny** ,” the Schnee sisters spoke as one. The glyph spun even faster, their power invoking the Throne and contracting the spirit. Soon, it would descend into the container they provided.

“ _Weiss don’t!”_ Salem pleaded, darkness slowly seeping back into Mordred’s free eye. “ _Please, you don’t have to die! You have done nothing wrong—”_

“I’ve done plenty wrong!” Weiss screamed, tears flooding down her face. “Because of you! Because of me! I have killed good people! And I don’t care about humanity’s hypocrisy or whatever _shit_ you want to spout, I sinned! I am evil! And even if everyone else is too, that is wrong!”

 _“But you shouldn’t have to die for it!”_ Salem shouted back. “ _Please Weiss, you don’t have enough power to create a body without me! Let me—_ ”

“Shut up!”

Salem tried to dash forward at Weiss’ shout, but Jaune once more got her way, this time smashing into her side with his shield.

The Mother of Grimm growled, black lightning crackling around her stolen body.

Jaune paled. He combined his weapons into his broadsword, but the blade shook in his hands in the face of the sinister force before him. “Guys.”

Salem rushed him. Her movements were janky and sluggish, Mordred still clearly holding her back, but even reduced she was a juggernaut. Furious wind curled around Jaune’s sword, but he was soon on his knees, barely holding on.

Weiss’ eyes narrowed. “We have to do it. The glyph is charged. I should be able to handle it from here. You go help—”

“What did she mean you were going to die?” Winter asked.

“It was a threat,” Weiss brushed aside. “She’s an evil bitch, it’s what she does.”

“That didn’t sound like a threat,” Winter pointed out. “Weiss, you still haven’t told me how you’re going to provide Arturia with a body.”

“I’ll create one—”

“A Grimm form would leave her without a mind or a body capable of acting out her full abilities. And a human host would be torn apart in both body and soul, before she could do anything,” she continued. Winter placed a hand over Weiss’ own. “I was barely able to pull through False Ruler. Even with the two of us, even without bringing in her Noble Phantasms, Salem isn’t wrong. We don’t have the power to grant Arturia a body.”

“I know!” Weiss snapped. “That’s why I’m giving her mine!”

Winter’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Avalon has nearly unlimited regenerative abilities when fueled by Arturia’s _prana_ ,” Weiss explained. “It won’t let her use all her strength, but the scabbard will be able to heal any injuries the body withstands during the summoning.”

“But your soul will still be torn apart!” Winter protested.

“What is my soul worth?!” Weiss roared. “After everything I’ve done, isn’t it what I deserve? And even if it isn’t, it’s certainly not worth the rest of the world! If this is what it takes to make things right, then I’ll do it! Do you understand?”

Winter gaped at her, a single tear running down the side of her face. “I… I do.”

“Good,” Weiss said. “Tell mom… tell her I’m sorry for everything.”

She looked down to focus on the divine sword. But her sister’s hand did not leave hers.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Winter assured her. “I don’t know what you deserve. I don’t know what your soul is worth to the rest of the world. But to me, little sister, you are priceless.”

In the blink of an eye, Winter ripped Weiss’ hands from Avalon. The younger Schnee barely had a moment to be surprised before she was shoved out of the glyph entirely, sent rolling across the floor.

“Winter no!” Weiss screamed, tears streaking down her face as she realized what was happening.

Salem’s eyes widened. She smashed through Jaune’s guard and launched him onto his back. She raised Clarent for the final blow.

“ **Seventh Heaven clad in the great words of power**!” Winter roared; her hands clasped to Avalon as the glyph blazed white. “ **Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!** ”

Light filled the cavern as the glow of all the legends of mankind erupted from the sigil. Weiss had to shield her eyes just to keep from going blind, unable to console the fate her sister had just accepted in her place, a plan she didn’t even know if it would work.

And yet, through her tears, she saw a flash of gold amongst the sea of white.

 

* * *

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****

Jaune panted as the light faded, his sword held out above him, his form a bit crumpled under the weight of the attack he’d weathered, but better than expected. You know, other than the fact that he was lying on his back. Mordred may have been restraining Salem, but her body still hit like a truck. His Invisible Air had shattered after only a few blows. He was amazed Crocea Mors had survived.

Though, that really was strange. Crescent Rose had been utterly obliterated by clashing with Noble Phantasms. Meanwhile, his family sword wasn’t even chipped. Something was up with that.

Of course, with the sight now before him, he had far bigger things on his mind than his weapon.

Salem’s darkness receded from Mordred’s face, his sibling’s eyes returning to normal, or at least normal as her half-alter self was, one eye the mud’s gold and the other her own emerald. Clarent was held out midswing, its path ready smash down on his skull. But it didn’t.

For Excalibur stood fast in its way, shining gold that soothed Jaune’s mind just looking upon it. The Sword of Promised Victory had at last returned to hands it found to be worthy.

Though, Jaune raised an eyebrow at those hands, as they did not belong to his mother, but Winter. And she certainly wasn’t in the best shape herself. Her legs were both snapped and twisted, blood pouring from her calves as she knelt between Jaune and Mordred. Her mouth was split, more crimson fluid dripping down her face. The blond huntsmen couldn’t even figure out how she was even alive.

But then he saw her opposite hand. While her right held Excalibur, her left held Avalon, the Everdistant Utopia glowing just as bright as its partner. The instant after Jaune spotted it, the grievous wounds across the Atlas Specialist disappeared, as if they were never there to begin with.

After all, how could they? No such harm could befall the King of Knights on the Eternal Isle of the Fae.

Jaune didn’t know when he’d started crying, but he couldn’t help the laughter that sprang to his lips, relieved beyond what words could say.

Wincing in pain, Mordred grinned. “Father.”

“Mordred,” Arturia’s voice answered from Winter’s lips, the King of Knights rising to her new feet. In an instant, she’d wrapped the son who’d killed her in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry.”

Mordred’s face froze, the Knight of Rebellion unsure how to respond to being embraced by the sovereign she’d deposed. But, after a moment, her sword clattered to the ground. She smiled and returned her parent’s hug, relishing the first time she’d ever been held in her arms.

Jaune limped to his feet, sheathing Crocea Mors at his side. Both his mother and his sister saw him coming and soon all three Arcs were hugging.

Eventually, Arturia pulled out, stowing her Noble Phantasms at her waist and resting a gentle hand on both of her children’s cheeks. Tears trickled down her face. “My boys, I’ve caused you so much pain.”

“The witch was messing with your mind,” Mordred replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I killed your friends. I tried to kill you,” Arturia pointed out. Her guilty gaze glanced to the growing black veins on Mordred’s body. “I did kill you.”

“Eh, you kill me, I kill you,” Mordred shrugged. “At this point, it’s kind of our thing. Besides, I finally beat you. Not Morgana’s curse, not some previous injuries, _me_.”

Arturia chuckled. “Indeed, you did. Well done, my son.”

Jaune wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Mordred preen more than she did at hearing mom call her ‘son’. Even despite the hellish visage slowly consuming her, it was adorable.

“How is this possible?” Jaune whispered reverently. “I thought… I thought a human couldn’t house a Servant?”

Arturia frowned at that. “Normally, it isn’t. This version of me was called without Noble Phantasms to reduce the strain, but a human body simply does not have the endurance to allow a Servant to exist within it. It is a miracle Winter was compatible with me at all.”

“Graceful, noble, have a nasty temper underneath it all,” Mordred remarked. “I guess you two are kind of similar.”

“Even still, that would not be enough,” Arturia continued, tapping her sheath. “Without Avalon, this body would have disintegrated the moment I arrived. And even then—”

“Even then, Winter’s soul was torn to pieces,” Weiss spoke. The huntress laid prone on her knees, her crystal eyes staring blankly at the floor. “It’s still inside the body, but even if you eventually leave, she’ll just remain there. Not even dead, just… nothing.”

Tears tumbled down her face. “Why did she do it? It was supposed to be me. Why would she sacrifice herself for _me_?”

Mordred sighed. “She was your big sister. It’s the older siblings’ job to take care of the younger ones.”

“Even when they don’t deserve it?”

“Especially then.”

Weiss didn’t look comforted, but she still managed to struggle to her feet and wipe her eyes clear of liquid, however bloodshot they still were.

“Jaune, you should make a contract with her,” she told him. “She’s still a Saber Servant. She isn’t going to last long without support.”

“Oh, right,” Jaune remarked, rubbing the back of his head. “Gonna be one hell of a drain, supporting both of them—ah!”

His mother grasped the front of his armor and yanked him behind her, just in time for Clarent to tear through the space his head had occupied a moment before, _black_ lightning rippling across the blade.

“You idiot,” Mordred hissed, her sword arm trembling. She raised her gaze, her emerald eye half tinted gold. “You’re only going to support one of us.”

“No,” Jaune whispered. “No, Ruby—”

“Can’t heal me,” Mordred shot back. “And even if she could, we have no idea where she is. Because if she was headed North, that Alter wouldn’t still be there. I’m not going to give Salem another opportunity to use me to kill you.” She glanced at Arturia’s belt. “And there’s only one sword worthy of ending my life.”

Arturia flinched but looked down a moment later. With a regretful frown, she drew Excalibur from her sheath. “Are you sure?”

Mordred snorted, an impish smirk rising to her lips. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. While I’ve been here, I’ve come to want them to be happy. Giving you back to them, I can do both. And if this world gets the King of Knights to guide it forward into its new age… even better.”

Arturia gulped. “I will. I will not abandon them, but I cannot use them to hide any longer either. I am the King of Knights. It is my burden, my power, my responsibility, even if I shall never again bear it alone.”

“That’ll do,” Mordred laughed. “Amber should be quite happy that I kept my word.”

“You are a knight,” Arturia declared with utmost faith. “She should have expected nothing less.”

Mordred chuckled. “A knight? Yeah. That’s what I am. Jaune, get your semblance ready. I’m leaving you with one hell of boost when I go.”

“No,” Jaune said. “No, I told you, I’m not going to choose between family. You don’t deserve this.”

“People rarely get what they deserve,” Mordred said. “We play the hand we’re dealt, and I’d say I’ve done pretty well for someone who sucks at cards.”

“Don’t joke about this!” Jaune demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. “Not this, not now, please just tell me how to help you—”

“I’m satisfied,” Mordred cut in. “Sure, it’s not everything I would have wanted but… it’s good. Father’s back, you two will keep the rest of our family safe. I’ve done what I can. You can take care of the rest.” She glanced at Crocea Mors and chuckled. “Only big regret is that I won’t get to see what you turn that thing into.”

Jaune raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“The sword is strongest as a shield, _little brother_ ,” Mordred smiled. “You’ll do what you need to when the time comes. And then… then I’ll see you in the Throne.”

Jaune blinked, tears falling from his eyes as he registered what Mordred had finally called him. His mind was unable to figure out what to say in response, only managing to raise his hands, white light shimmering from his palms as he activated his semblance as ordered. Soon enough, red sparkles of power began to trickle out of his sibling and into his aura.

Mordred nodded and turned to Arturia. “Well, father? Shall we? If you want a fight, Salem’s getting awfully loud in here.”

The King of Knights gently placed her golden sword above her son’s shoulder. “Are you ready? To die?”

“Honestly? No,” Mordred revealed with a gulp, a single tear trickling down from her eye, before it was completely turned a sickly yellow. “But I want to be a monster again even less.”

Arturia grimaced. “You have never, nor could Mordred Pendragon ever be, a monster.”

With that, the Sword of Promised Victory came crashing down in a sea of gold. Mordred’s smile shined through even as she was consumed by the heavenly glow, content at last.

Jaune’s fists clenched at his sides, sparks of crimson lighting flashing along his flesh.

He could not cry. He _would_ not cry. She’d sacrificed everything to give him the best chance possible. She’d done the impossible and saved mom. Now, all that was left was to win the Grail, make the revival permanent, and finish the Mother of Grimm. She’d left that to him, and he would not let her down.

“Jaune?” Arturia asked tentatively.

“Let’s make that contract,” he said, forcing himself to speak past his loss. “Then we find the others and make Salem pay.”

 

* * *

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****

Ruby groaned as her eyes fluttered open, a brilliant golden glow encompassing her vision. Her hand rose to shield her from the light, her head ringing like an anvil struck by a hammer.

“Ruby?” a blurred figure, vaguely male, asked concernedly. “Are you alright?”

“Five more minutes, daddy,” she moaned. “Aww, I think someone put something in my cookies.”

“Um, Ruby?” The figure said. “There… aren’t any cookies here.”

“Do not speak of my treasury as though it were so limited, boy,” another voice, one Ruby immediately recognized in the very core of her being, spoke. “The finest bakers of Uruk contributed to its stores.”

Ruby shot upright to a sitting position, though she winced as pain rocketed through her from her protesting muscles. A quick glance over her skin revealed that her silver scars had once again expanded, now covering nearly every scrap of flesh she had, so much that she lit up like a festival light. She could feel her muscles and aura protesting as they strained to hold her together under the strain of her own power.

Oscar was at her side a second later, gingerly helping her gain a proper position on the bed-sized cushion they were both on. The fabric was softer than anything she’d ever felt before but considering where it resided, that made sense. Nothing but the finest would be tolerated in the King’s Vault.

“Are you alright?” the farm boy asked again.

Ruby managed a smile for her friend despite the pain aching through her body. “Not perfect, but I’ll manage. Thanks for asking… Oscar? Ozpin?”

The farm boy looked down, ashamed. “It’s just Oscar now. Ozpin is… Ozpin is gone. Salem finished him, for good.”

Ruby frowned, her fists clenching in grief. She’d mourned her professor once already after Beacon, but it didn’t feel any easier a second time. Ozpin hadn’t been perfect, but he’d always tried. For an eon, he did everything he could to hold Salem back. That had to count for something.

_‘Well, I want to be a huntress.’_

_‘You want to slay monsters?’_

_‘I’m trying to become a huntress because I want to help people.’_

Her silver eyes hardened recalling those words from that fateful night in the police station. She would make sure his efforts hadn’t been for nothing. Which meant it was time to do what she had been born to do.

The Gate of Babylon looked exactly as she remembered it, shining and brilliant, everything polished to its grandest golden glow. Her old pedestal was right beside them, a fraction of Enkidu wrapped around its base, rows of tightly ordered shelves of companion weapons lining the aisle. Of course, Ruby knew that beyond a mile or two in any direction, it would be absolute chaos with everything splayed out across the floor. Enkidu may have allowed order nearby her out of respect, but the Chains of Heaven were a jubilating bunch. It was lucky her mom had landed in her area or else she never would have found her.

Of course, the person she’d been stolen from might not have viewed it as such.

Gilgamesh stood across from them, born in the white shirt and golden necklace he’d worn in ancient times, his arms folded across his chest. His wounds from their battle with Hazel had disappeared, likely a result of careful usage of the Herb of Immortality.

She briefly wondered if that would work to repair her own scars, but given it worked by turning back a soul and body a fraction of its lifespan and her former was older than the world itself, it was more likely she’d wink herself back to sword form immediately, even if she only consumed the tiniest fraction of the herb. Damn it.

Oscar gulped before the king, not an unreasonable reaction. For Ruby though, who now remembered his many playful wrestling matches with the High Lord of Snuggles, it was like seeing that little boy again after so long.

“My king,” she said, crawling to the edge of the cushion.

Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed. “Are you my treasure?”

Ruby chuckled. He never was one to beat around the bush if he didn’t have to. “Yes. I am the Sword of Rupture, the blade you named in honor of the God that helped your mother give me to you.”

“If that is true, why have you not returned to me during any of our previous encounters?”

“My apologies, your grace,” Ruby replied. “I did not remember who I was. Taking control of Summer Rose’s semblance to create this body was not a task I had experience in. I turned myself into a baby instead of a clone of her after all.”

“Taking control… yes, that explains it. No mongrel’s trick could ever overcome you.” Gilgamesh marched and knelt before her seated form, for once bringing them eye to eye. “Even still, it was my duty as king to keep you safe. And instead, I allowed two thieves to do you the insult of snatching you from my vault and nearly staining you with their putrid--”

“It is alright, my king,” Ruby interrupted him, probably one of only two people in history who could get away with that. His startled and confused reaction to the event certainly suggested he was unused to it. After all, anyone else but Enkidu would have gotten a sword through the head for the trouble. “Truthfully, I’m glad it happened. Because there is something I’ve needed to do for quite a while now. And with this body, I finally have the chance. Do I have your leave to do so?”

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. “Is this task so important that it must be done now?”

“Yes.”

The golden man sighed. “Very well then. Go ahead.”

Ruby smiled. “Thank you, my king.”

Now that he knew her true identity, he trusted her. The faith that had blinded him to the possibility of her existence, the primordial, immovable belief that he placed only in her, Enkidu, and himself had been restored to its complete, unassailable perfection. They three were the sole constants of the world, the implacable pillars of infallible legend. She would need that faith for what came next. When she brought it crashing down.

In a burst of rose petals, she dashed behind him, her hand raised high. An instant later, she brought it crashing down on the back of the King of Heroes’ head.

“You complete moron!”


	88. Are You a Hero, Gilgamesh of Uruk?

_“This is Gold Five! I’ve lost my wingman—”_

_“—The whole squadron’s gon—_

_“Watch those fireballs—_

_“—here are those fucking mechs?!”_

_“General! They’re everyw—AAAGGH!!!”_

Ironwood tensed, the latest batch of screams echoing over the bridge of _The Mantle_ , the sudden lurch to static doing nothing to assuage his mind. He had grown accustomed to having to send good soldiers to their death for the greater good, but it had never gotten easier. If it had, he would have stepped down from command.

But this… this was a massacre.

The guns of Atlas’ mighty navy blazed again and again, broadsides erupting into the horde of Grimm within the skies. Turrets and fighters took down Griffon after Griffon, more demons plummeting from the sky than most huntsman saw during their entire careers. The full strength of the greatest of the kingdoms was not found wanting in their war with the creatures of darkness.

But… there were just so many. The crimson sky could not even be seen, the legions of hell too numerous to allow any light to reach past their black forms, save the flashes of fireballs they spat from their jaws. All around, Nevermores tore through fighter squadrons, Sphinxes obliterated gunships, and Wyverns swooped low to crush the mechs on the ground. Squid-like Grimm the general had never seen before swam through the air as if it were water, their thick tentacles wrapping around cruisers and squeezing until the metal cracked and sparked under the pressure. Below, a dozen Leviathans breathed gargantuan beams of crackling energy from maws the size of houses, each one shearing into the sky and splitting a battleship in two.

This was the darkness that Ozpin had feared, the evil that he’d warned them of. These were the things that Qrow had scouted, that he’d spoken of with such terror. And just as they’d both said, James’ machines, his proud army, deftly drilled and armed with the greatest technology in the world, was nothing before them.

And all Ironwood could do was grit his teeth and watch.

They didn’t have to win. They knew they weren’t going to win, not this fight. But they didn’t have to. They just needed to occupy as many Grimm as possible, because every demon that was trying to kill them _wasn’t_ trying to kill the masters while their Servants were occupied. They just needed to keep the monsters busy until the Grail went off. Then, this nightmare would finally be over.

“General!” one of his bridge crew, Petty Officer Rouge, her scarlet hair, normally tied in a neat professional bun, frazzled with terror, darting between her display and the hellish crimson pupils that flashed outside the window. “Gold Squadron is done! We’ve lost contact with the mechs on the ground and decks four through eleven are reporting loss of weapon systems! The other battleships are reporting heavy damage!”

The remaining battleships. They’d entered the Grimmlands with dozens of them, but the Grimm’s onslaught had reduced them to only eight. There would have been even fewer, but the White Fang’s reinforcements had arrived just in time to momentarily relieve their harried fighter squadrons, buying enough time to put up some sort of defense. He never would have thought he’d be happy to hear Sienna Khan’s voice over his radio or have one of her operatives on his bridge, but the end of the world made for strange bedfellows.

But no matter who had come to help, he was the general. He could not panic. He could not show fear. He could feel it all he liked, but his troops were counting on him to stand fast, to keep the ideal of victory alive in their mind, even as they were torn apart. He was not a man to them. He was the pillar holding back whatever sense was screaming at them to run for their lives. Because if they did, if they broke, Salem would win, and her forces would overrun the world. And then there would be nowhere to run to.

“Have _The Vytal_ and _The Solitas_ form up around us in spear formation!” he ordered. “Divert all power to the engines!”

“You’re going to ram them!?” Ilia Amitola asked incredulously, clutching onto one of the deck rails. “You’re going to ram the Grimm?!?”

“As long as we’re between them and the castle, we’re between them and Ruby!” Ironwood shouted. “To do that, we need to get to the other side. _Fort Castle_? Sienna?”

 _“We read you, general,”_ Sienna’s voice crackled over the comms. _“We’ll cover you, but I’m not sure how much good it’ll do. We’re running low on ships.”_

Weren’t they all.

“Just do what you can,” Ironwood said.

_“Copy that. Good luck, James.”_

_The Mantle_ ’s dust engines blazed at triple their previous power, the flagship bursting forward through the sky, squashing scores of Grimm who couldn’t scramble out of the way in time. Before long, a pair of battleships formed up on the flanks, their flak cannons blazing, battered bullheads bearing the crest of the White Fang scattering any Nevermores or Griffons that tried to come at the engines from behind.

It was slow going, more dark flesh in their path than actual air, but even if it was a snail’s pace they were still moving. The Grimm were parting, or at least falling behind as the airships switched from tying them down to rocketing past them.

At last, they emerged from the darkness, the crimson sky plain before them.

“We’ve cleared the swarm,” Petty Officer Rouge reported, relief in her voice as the rest of the crew cheered. “ _The Vytal_ and _The Solitas_ are still with us. We made it!”

 _“We’re still here too,”_ Sienna snarked, though there was plenty of mirth in her voice. _“In case any of you were worried.”_

Ironwood grinned. Normally, he wasn’t a fan of such lip while they were all still in imminent danger, but he decided he had better things to do than reprimand a terrorist. Who knew how much time Ruby and the others still needed to—

“General!” Ilia called out, pointing feverishly to the window. “Look! The pillars!”

Ironwood followed the chameleon faunus’ finger, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Salem’s castle, as black and imposing as ever, but the entire east wing reduced to rubble. And though there was a dark horde to the north that he noted in the back of his mind to likely be terrifying, he couldn’t help but grin at the complete lack of pure white pillars shooting into the sky.

“They did it,” he whispered. “They got them.”

The Relics were dealt with. They’d beaten the clock. Salem wouldn’t be taking the world today. Now the masters just needed to claim the Grail, and the Mother of Grimm would be wiped from Remnant.

They just needed to give them a little more time.

“Form up!” he ordered. “Tell engineering to get those weapons back online now! Have _The Vytal_ and _The Solitas_ pour everything they have into the swarm, we need to keep that opening clear for the rest of the fleet—”

“General!”

“What, Petty Officer?”

“They’re not responding,” Rouge muttered. “The rest of the fleet… they’re not responding to hails.”

“What?!” Ironwood gasped. “Did our comm array get hit—”

 _“Your comms are fine, James,”_ Sienna interjected solemnly. _“Look.”_

Ironwood growled, staring out the viewport of his ship, seeing only the same titanic horde of Grimm that had hounded them since the battle began.

At least for a moment. Then he caught the enormous pillars of smoke tumbling from the horde of darkness, flashes of flaming steel visible amidst the chaos. A moment later, a cacophony of explosions erupted from the surface of the hellscape, each one a shot to the general’s heart.

His fleet, his _men_ , were gone. Bar any miraculous stragglers, all that remained of the great Atlesian Navy was aboard the three ships that had escaped the swarm. And that horde, reduced it may have been from the millions it was at the battle’s beginning, still outnumbered them a hundred thousand to one, infernal rage flaring within their jaws.

“Form up,” Ironwood ordered. “Form up now! We are the line between them and the castle! They cannot get past us—”

“Leviathans!” Rouge screamed.

Four of the titanic creatures emerged from the smog, their piercing crimson gazes already locking onto the trio of capital ships. The lead one let out a deafening, bestial roar, the others swiftly following suit, a symphony of monstrous victory ringing through the heavens of hell.

From the depths of their throats, a mass of electric energy began to build up, illuminating their gaping maws. Four beams of crackling yellow power shot through the sky, smashing into the center of _The Mantle_.

Most of the bridge crew fell to their knees screaming, their discipline breaking into chaos in the face of annihilation. Even Ironwood couldn’t avoid stumbling as the dreadnaught lurched forward, alarms blaring all around as the ship plummeted from the sky. “Status?!”

Petty Officer Rouge, bless her soul, somehow heaved herself back to her display and responded. “They got the engines! Port stabilizers are down! Hull integrity is critical! We’re coming apart!”

“Abandon ship!” Ironwood shouted. “All hands abandon ship! Have the lifeboats head for _The Vytal_ —”

He didn’t get to finish his orders. Two more Leviathans emerged from the wreckage of the rest of the fleet. And two more energy beams blazed towards them, cutting the flagship of Atlas clean in half.

The force of the blast tore Ironwood’s jacket from his body, exposing his mechanical arm and side to the world. Most of the crew weren’t so lucky, their lesser auras failing with a sizzle and their bodies flying out from depressurization. He saw Petty Officer Rouge’s head smack against the wall, silencing her screams as her corpse was thrown into the open air.

All in an instant, his crew were gone. There was nothing he could do to help them, their trusted general, unable to save them.

Decades of experience allowed him to compartmentalize, shoving down his raging emotions of loss and failure where they couldn’t hamper him in the moment. He had to do what he could do.

He jammed a flare round into his gun barrel, struggling to keep his footing as the bridge cracked open like an egg around him, only his impressive aura allowing him to keep from being tossed out into the sky.

Of course, after he’d gripped young Ilia under his left arm, herself having remained inside by wrapping her whip around a rail, he let them both be carried out.

“Are you crazy?!” the chameleon faunus yelled, before her screams of panic were muffled by the air blasting passed their eardrums as they fell through the open sky.

Ironwood raised his gun with his right arm and fired, the flare streaking through the air over their position.

_‘Please see it. Please see it!’_

The ground was approaching faster and faster, the dark hills seeming more and more like the pan he would go _splat_ against. He could almost hear Qrow making a quip about how he was the one who was supposed to fly.

_“Seriously Jimmy, if you wanted lessons you just had to ask.”_

Gods, he missed that bastard. Guess the one bright side of this was that he’d see him soon.

A bullhead roared past him and Ilia, diving down several hundred meters. At that point, it stabilized just where he needed it, the side doors opening to reveal Sienna Khan, her amber eyes locked onto them.

Ironwood grinned. It looked like he’d have to wait a bit longer to see his old friend.

He stowed his gun in his holster and reached out, knowing his timing had to be perfect or both he and the young woman in his arms would die. Stretching as far as he could manage, the fingers of his right arm closed around the ledge of the aircraft, his iron grip impressing itself into the steel.

If it had been a normal arm, it would have been turned to mush. Hell, even if it had been a regular mechanical arm it probably would have just been wrenched from its socket from the sheer force of impact. Only the fact that nearly the entire right side of Ironwood’s body was cybernetics saved them from a grisly end, even their auras finally shattering from the whiplash that should have snapped their necks.

Sienna and some of her masked goons quickly reached over the side to pull him and Ilia in. The both of them were panting madly, what with the impromptu skydiving they’d just done, but the terrorists had no excuse for their gaping jaws. Even Sienna’s amber eyes were wide with shock. “You’re insane.”

Ironwood shrugged. “You work with Ozpin and Qrow long enough, it sort of becomes a job requirement.”

“I’ll say,” Ilia panted out, the young girl laying flat on the floor of the bullhead. “Thank you though. That was… not fun.”

Sienna glanced out into the sky and frowned. “It’s not going to get any better soon.”

Ironwood turned to follow her gaze and cringed despite himself. The ruins of _The Mantle_ plunged to the ground, smashing into the dirt barely a quarter-mile from Salem’s castle, a veritable dust storm thrown up in its wake. _The Vytal_ and _The Solitas_ closed the gap left by the obliterated flagship, their cannons pouring every ounce of firepower they had into the Grimm swarm, one of the volleys even toppling the Leviathans that had dealt the killing blow.

But it wasn’t enough. Even then, the horde of Grimm turned their eyes to the remaining enemies, their maws blazing with hellfire.

“We must have killed a million of them,” Ilia whispered. “How are there still so many?”

“This is their home,” Sienna said, her face forced stoic in a look Ironwood recognized from the mirror. “This is where they were born, where their kin are being born even as we speak. It doesn’t matter how many we kill, as long as this world exists, their species will live on. They will never let us claim victory here.”

Ironwood grimaced and rose to his feet, glaring at the oncoming horde of hell. “They should have decided that before they spent the last eon trying to wipe us all out. Now, we just need to give the masters a bit more time and their world will be wiped off the map.”

Sienna cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve been saying that for a bit, general. How much more time do they need?”

“They’ve taken down the pillars.”

“And the Grail hasn’t saved us all yet.”

“Don’t worry, High Leader,” Ilia insisted, a smile springing to her face. “Lancer won’t fail us.”

Ironwood frowned, looking from the wreckage of his fallen ship to the desperate stand of his remaining men, to the swarm of black and red demons about to set upon them with renewed, unrelenting fury.

“We just need to give Ruby and the others a little more time,” the general said, though at this point he was unsure if he was trying to convince his allies or himself. “Hail the battleships, tell them to fall back to the wreckage of _The Mantle_. We’ll make our stand there.”

 

* * *

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When Ruby had slapped Gilgamesh, Oscar had thought they were dead. Ea or not, there was no way anyone could get away with laying a hand on the arrogant King of Heroes like that. He would skewer them like a pincushion. Hell, they were literally in his armory, he didn’t even have to open a portal, he could just reach out and snag a sword from one of the shelves.

And then… that did not happen.

Oh sure, it had begun with Gilgamesh shouting about “How dare you strike a king?!”, and “If you were anyone else, I’d torture you more than even the gods had ever dreamed!”, and all that. But then Ruby had shouted right back at him, saying stuff like, “It would have been treason to not do it, because assassinating you would have been kinder than letting you keep being a complete imbecile!” Honestly, Oscar had been expected silver eye blasts and golden Noble Phantasms to be flying any second.

And instead… Ruby had used her semblance to shoot herself on top of Gilgamesh’s shoulders, wrapping her cloak over his face so he couldn’t see and leading him around like a puppet without strings while his hands blindly tried to claw her off. Eventually, they’d toppled into another bank of pillows and then started scrambling over each other yelling insults, pulling hair, and shouting something about a High Lord?

Honestly, it looked like a complete of stray cats or squabbling teenagers than an ultimate showdown between the oldest hero and his greatest weapon (he was still trying to wrap his head around Ruby _being_ Ea). And though it was admittedly impressive that Ruby was keeping up with a being with supernatural agility and strength, they did not have time for this.

“Hey!” Oscar shouted. “Hey! Guys! End of the world! Guys!”

“The High Lord of Snuggles liked me better!”

“As a chew toy!”

“What, you mean your head?!”

Oscar’s eye twitched and he let out a long sigh, his face falling into his hands. Apparently, Ozpin was in fact not the outlier in the insanity of ancient beings, but rather the norm. Lovely.

He felt a comforting pat on his knee and for a moment, he was grateful for the camaraderie. Then he remembered that the only other people in the storehouse were the two cosmic semi-deities wrestling before him, and his eyes shot open in confusion. He glanced about trying to find who’d given him the pat but there was no one else there… had that golden chain been on the cushion before?

The ornate treasure proceeded to twitch, as if responding to his thoughts. The _chain_ responded to his thoughts.

Oscar just groaned, allowing his shoulders to sag in defeat, longing for the days when having an ancient wizard reincarnating into his soul was the craziest thing he had to deal with. At this point, he was just going to let Ruby and Gilgamesh finish their catfight, which was already spiraling past the shelves and into the mountains of scattered weapons and trinkets beyond, and hope they figured something out eventually.

The planet would survive whatever they came up with.

Hopefully.

 

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“Aha!” Gilgamesh shouted, pinning Ruby down on a pile of glittering necklaces with a victorious grin. “Finally! You are beaten!”

Ruby responded by blowing a raspberry in his face.

The smile immediately disappeared from the king’s face. “Really Ea, enough of this foolishness.”

“Why? You’ve been foolish for the last thirty years, so why shouldn’t I?” Ruby shot back. “I mean, you only encouraged a psychopath to kill anyone he was close to and then made friends with him? That’s pretty idiotic, don’t you think—”

Her sentence was cut off as Gilgamesh shoved her under the necklace pile, covering her in precious gemstones finer than any wedding ring. Fortunately, after a few moments of struggling to breathe, he let her come up for air. She scowled as he turned away, his arms folded in front of his chest as if he was the one offended. Which he was, she knew. The king wasn’t one who could allow strikes on his person to go unanswered. But he also needed to understand just how much his own actions had bit him and everything he cared about in the butt.

“Kirei was… an oversight,” Gilgamesh admitted. “One that has since been dealt with.”

“Oh, so now you decide to believe Sha Naqba—wait!” Ruby’s eyes went wide. “Yang! Is Yang alright?”

Gilgamesh cocked an eyebrow. “The thief’s daughter is alive, yes. She was the one who slew Kirei. Now, she moves to reinforce the King of Conquerors.”

Ruby sighed in relief. In the whirlwind of events since she’d gotten teleported, she hadn’t had the time to think about how she’d left her sister behind to face their worst enemy. The fact that she’d slain the man who’d shot their father and tormented them since Beacon was certainly a plus, but she was happier that she was alive.

“She means so much to you?” Gilgamesh noted.

“Of course, she does,” Ruby replied. “She’s my sister.”

“Sister?” the king frowned. “The child of the one who _stole_ you is your sister?”

“Yeah, that’s a bit complicated. We’re technically half-sisters, different moms, same dad—”

“You are a sword.”

“And Taiyang Xiao-Ling is still my father,” Ruby glared. “Just like Yang is still my sister. And Summer Rose is still my mother.”

“She stole you!” Gilgamesh roared. “Kidnapped you! Would have defiled you—”

“I know!” Ruby shouted back. “I know. I know what she did. But I also know why she did it. I lived in her world, felt her desperation as any second the Grimm could come down and wipe humanity from the face of the planet. And I know she cared. Whatever her faults, she cared about the people of this world, and in time, I think she cared about me as her daughter.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I forgive her. Whatever her flaws, I forgive Summer Rose. I forgive Raven Branwen,” Ruby said. “I forgive you.”

“Me?” Gilgamesh replied. He turned away in shame. “I see. That is understandable. I should have found you sooner—”

His voice paused when Ruby threw one of the pendants she sat upon into his face, his golden eyebrow twitching at the interruption.

“No, you dummy,” Ruby snipped. “I already told you, _I_ took control of Summer’s semblance. _I_ gave myself this body because _I_ wanted it. I’m not mad at you for not stopping me from being taken. I’m mad at you for letting Salem get so out of control that Summer and Raven felt they had to take me.”

“What are you talking about? I have not _let_ that wretch do anything,” Gilgamesh sneered, his fist closing in fury. “As soon as we discover how to activate your full powers once again, we will turn this Reality Marble into ash and her along with it.”

“And the reason we didn’t do that during the last war?” Ruby inquired. “Or when we first showed up on Remnant?”

Gilgamesh raised his nose at his blade. “You know as well as I that a king is held to a higher standard than mere mongrels. I cannot go around making such intrusions while I am a guest in another world.”

“Another world—you still believe that ridiculous…” Ruby’s voice stuttered out, her eyes closing in realization. She shook her head dejectedly. “No. Of course you would. Because you can’t believe otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ruby just sighed. The king stood at the peak of the world, beyond gods and men. His kingdom was all the world, its treasures his to command. If it was a treasure, then it traced his origins to his storehouse, even if he’d never heard of the thing in life. There was no questioning it. It was simple fact.

The king brought order and prosperity to the world. It was simple fact.

The king shouldered all the sins of the world, so the people would not have to. It was simple fact.

And yet, Salem had marred the garden. She’d taken it, molded it to her own designs, humanity barely rising to survive her conquest. But that could not be. For the king would never allow such a thing to occur. He would never allow such evil to pollute his world. He would have stomped it out before it’d had the chance. _It was simple fact_.

 “You could not believe it,” Ruby whispered. “Because you are the king. Because you could not fathom that she’d beaten you. You did everything right, acknowledged and absolved her, and she beat you. She sent you hurtling through time and tore your world apart until it was unrecognizable, your people forced to struggle in your wake.”

Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed. “This humanity is not to be insulted. They are greater than the worms of the other age by far.”

“And even still, pride,” Ruby muttered. “Pride in your people, forced to their best by the apocalypse that their king should have prevented, that he wasn’t there to stop. Pride that they’d reached up the mountain, crawled up the slope. And, perhaps, they no longer need him.”

“No longer need—” Gilgamesh stomped forward, fury etched on his face. “My kingdom is mine. It is my property.”

“And what is a king who cannot control their property? Deserving of it?” Ruby shouted back, leaping to her feet to stare him dead in the eye. “Do you think I wanted a body because of Salem? I wanted a body to open your eyes before you were no longer the king!”

Her wielder glared at her for a few moments. She actually wondered for a moment if he would strike her, his temper finally lost despite her identity. Enkidu had critiqued him often during their time together, but never so bluntly and never since their first meeting so harshly. But he needed to understand. He needed to understand how far he’d allowed himself to fall or he’d never be able to pick himself back up.

At last, he whirled around, his heavy breathing betraying his turmoil. “You are still tainted. That false body has corrupted your form. No wonder it forced you to summon that faker.”

“That faker who kicked your ass!” Ruby yelled, unwilling to hear him dismiss Shirou. “Who fought because it was the right thing to do and would have killed you if Kirei hadn’t shot him in the back.”

Even with his back to her, she caught Gilgamesh’s flinch. “I had no involvement in that.”

“But you needed it,” Ruby pointed out. “The great King of Heroes would have died to a mere Counter Guardian if a snake hadn’t broken his rules. And been pardoned for it.”

“… like I said, Kirei was an oversight.”

“And so was Angra Mainyu.” Ruby sighed. She trudged to his side, the both of them staring into the depths of the Gate of Babylon, mountains of golden treasures stretching farther than the eye could see. “You were correct to acknowledge him. But you underestimated him and because of that, your people have been made to suffer. And because you didn’t believe you could fail; you couldn’t notice that you had.”

“To doubt oneself is to doubt one’s equals,” Gilgamesh noted, more subdued than his normal bombast. “And I will never do that.”

Ruby smiled. “Your faith in your friend is probably your best quality. But your unwillingness to compromise, to change, has caused more trouble than it’s worth.”

“The king does not change. The king is the peak, the perfection that his subjects strive for, equaled only by one.”

“And don’t you despise it,” Ruby stated, knowing it was the truth. “You’ve always hated it. You’ve known the end before you even began and so what was the point in the path. There was no entertainment, no joy. Just you. Always you, the king.”

Gilgamesh frowned. It was not often he had his reason for restraining his clairvoyance thrown so bluntly in his face.

“I admired that about you, when you were younger,” Ruby continued. “You knew you would find no pleasure, yet you did not abandon your kingdom. You stayed to do your duty. You devolved into a tyrant and I wanted to smack you upside the head, but Enkidu helped with that. He helped set you straight when I couldn’t and even after he died, you kept to the course. The king would create order and law, and the people would prosper, because the king loves his people, even if he knew, in the end, he would loathe them, for they were weak and could come together, while he was strong and would find his friend only in the Throne… huh.”

The silver-eyed girl cocked an eyebrow. “Enkidu got to the Throne before you. Wouldn’t that make him the first hero?”

Gilgamesh tilted his head before letting out a chuckle. “I suppose it would.”

Ruby smirked. “I know I am not your friend. You promised Enkidu he would be your only one and I will never ask you to break your word, especially to him. But I have been by your side since before even him, and I would not see all we’ve built twisted by All the World’s Evils. You were right to give Angra Mainyu the leave to exist, but now Salem is your responsibility.” She raised her right hand, a single red mark still visible among the mess of silver scars. “I still have one Command Seal.”

“You would have me be your Servant?”

Ruby nodded.

“A king’s kingdom is his property,” Gilgamesh said, sadness etched into his chiseled face. “A king who cannot control his property is no king at all. This world… I have… failed it. Allowed myself to become so obsessed with entertainment that I would ignore my duty.”

“Well, not ignore. I mean, Salem having tricked you went against everything you’ve ever believed,” Ruby said. “And you’ve always had a thing for discounting what your clairvoyance shows you when it’s ‘impossible’.”

“And yet, you would still desire such a fool by your side?”

Ruby smirked. “I’ve had nothing but fools by my side since I first opened these eyes. I am one. But, I’m not dead yet. I can still save a few people.”

“Save them?” Gilgamesh muttered, attempting to sneer and yet unable to muster the contempt he once could. “You can’t save them all.”

“I’ll save who I can, so they can save who they can.” Ruby turned to face him. “The two of us, together again, we can save a lot of people.”

“The two of us… and who am I? Who is Gilgamesh of Uruk, if he is not the king?”

“I don’t know. Is he still a hero?”

The golden man’s brow furrowed for a moment. Then, a subdued, but genuine smile blossomed onto his lips. “ **Sha Naqba Imuru**.”

His crimson eyes glowed bright, all the paths of the multiverse flowing through his mind. Ruby had never experienced it herself but took the fact that he would willingly use his most detested tool as a good sign.

The light faded. Gilgamesh frowned. It was a strange thing, absent of the anger common to the golden man’s displeasure, full instead of concern.

He turned to Ruby. “Well then, master. What is your plan?”

Ruby grinned. “I’ve got me. I’ve got Limited Bladeworks. I’m gonna get you the Sword of Rupture.”

Gilgamesh looked on her with pity. “It won’t work.”

“I’ve been surprising you all day,” Ruby declared. “One more time shouldn’t be too hard.”

This was going to work. She knew who she was. She had Gilgamesh on her side. Her friends were alive. She was going to stop Salem.

She would save everyone she could.


	89. The Kings Rally; The Conqueror's Soul, The Knight's Shining Light

Vernal roared as she kicked out the busted door of her smoking escape pod. The former bandit staggered to her feet, coughing madly as her lungs breathed in the dust kicked up by the wreck of _The Mantle_.

“Fight to live, he says. See if the general needs an extra body somewhere, you say,” she muttered. “Look how that turned out.”

Her attempt to be useful aboard the Atlesian flagship after the masters had left for Salem’s castle had led General Ironwood to assign her to the gunnery decks. She’d helped feed ammunition to the cannons, put out any fires than sprang up, and, when some errant Grimm fireballs had taken out the gunners, improvised and manned the turret herself. Turned out she was a pretty solid shot with any sized weapon.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t done her any good when the ship had been _blown in half_. She’d barely managed to stick her chakrams into the walls to avoid being instantly thrown out by depressurization, crawling along the steel to get to the escape pods. She’d launched just before the ship’s remains crashed into the black hills, kicking up a storm of dust that still hadn’t completely settled. If it wasn’t for the shock absorbers built into the pod, she never would have survived.

Now, here she was, surrounded by burning wreckage in the middle of hell, what few remaining Atlas ships buzzing through the sky desperately trying to hold off the surge of Grimm charging forth from the airborne swarm.

“Forget this,” she muttered.

The pillars may have been gone, but why hadn’t the Grail kicked in and wiped Salem out yet? Had something happened to the masters? Were they dead? Had Salem kept Caster from them? If the Servant of the Spell had been sent away, then they had no way of winning the Grail. And if that happened, then they were all dead already. Even if they killed all the Alters, it was only a matter of minutes before the Grimm would wipe out the Atlesian Navy. After that, they would overwhelm the others, kill the masters, and do who knew what with the Servants, Salem might let them fade or maybe turn them into new Alters.

It didn’t matter how hard they fought; the Mother of Grimm’s power was limitless. No matter how mighty the Heroic Spirits were, compared to her, they were weak. And the weak died.

She should run. Every instinct in her screamed at her to run. But there was nowhere to run to. To her back was Salem’s castle and to her front were hordes of ground Grimm, legions of Goliaths, Beowolves, Deathstalkers, Arma Nuckelavees, and who know what else. The remaining Atlas mechs were doing all they could to hold them back, but just like the ships above them, they were steadily being whittled down.

Vernal fell to her knees, her mind going blank with despair. Raven was gone. Her tribe was gone. She was the last of the Branwen. And she was going to die in this hellscape, along with the rest of humanity.

No hero could stop that.

 

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Iskandar grunted as his sword parried another crushing blow from a Darius’ axes. The King of Conquerors shuffled backwards to avoid the follow-up surge of emerald flames, his arm rising to shield his eyes from the smoke and dust.

He and his rival danced around the circle enforced by the Athanaton Ten Thousand, the plain alight with scattered patches of green flames. Darius’ war elephant laid dead at the edge of the arena; its skull caved inwards. Bucephalus, whose hoof had left said indent, struggled back to his feet beside it, the heavy burns along his faithful steed’s side hampering his rise. Heroic Spirit the horse may have been, but Darius was stronger by far.

And in the end, that was the problem. Iskandar was no stranger to combat, but his primary talent lay in command. He excelled more at strategically directing the talents of others more than utilizing any of his own. He was a capable warrior, but hardly one that would have made it to the Throne on the merit of his combat ability alone.

In contrast, Darius was not much more skilled than him, but he was bigger, stronger, and faster than Iskandar, and that was before he had Salem boosting his parameters. Head to head, this was not a fight in the King of Conquerors’ favor. And while normally it would fill his heart with pristine joy to face a battle with such impossible odds, the stakes were just too high here. The pillars may have been gone, but the masters were still in enemy territory. The Grimm were limitless in their home, and if the Athanaton Ten Thousand remained to reinforced them, not even Mordred’s Noble Phantasm would be enough to defeat them before they were overwhelmed. The others needed to find and destroy Caster so they could fight for the Grail. And to get to that battle, and to remove the Athanaton so it could happen, he had to win.

If he died, then he died. But he could not let Darius live. He would not let Yang suffer for his failure.

Thus, he would conquer.

“ **Zeus’ Thunder!** ”

Lightning surged over his muscles. His oldest Noble Phantasm may not have been able to increase his strength as it had when he was young, he had long ago overtaxed that ability, but it was still able to clothe him and his arsenal in crackling sapphire electricity.

He charged forward, his tempestuous spatha raining down blow after blow on Darius. Fire and lightning crashed as sword and axe sent sparks shooting across the circle. The Colossus of Macedonia rushed forward again and again, an unstoppable force with the strength of the storm.

Darius just smiled, meeting each slash with his weapons, the emerald blaze stoking higher with each swing of his axes.

“Good, good,” the last emperor of Persia grinned. “This is what I’ve been waiting for, what I was denied in life. To clash with your spirit, with all your strength.”

His own words caused the Alter’s smile to disappear, his brow furrowing in discontent. “If only you were not so handicapped. Then, this would truly be a war to remember. Now, you give all you have, but it is desperate. Reduced. Almost pitiful.”

A rush of flames forced Iskandar back, the king snarling, furious at the honest and cutting reproach. Was he truly so weak without his army? Was he so helpless to fight for his and his comrades’ dream when they only supported him in spirit?

No matter. Until he was dead, he could not give in. His partner certainly hadn’t.

Indeed, Bucephalus had finally made it to his feet, the brilliant black stallion glaring at Darius’ back, his knees bent and rippling with power. With a furious cry, he charged, his hoof primed for the back of the emperor’s head. Iskandar took the chance to rush in as well.

Darius was not a fool however, and so turned to his side to keep both Macedonians’ advances coming towards his front from either side. Towards each, he lashed out with an ax, fire spewing from his blades. Bucephalus was struck head-on, his body disintegrated from the rush of emerald flames.

Fortunately, with Darius’ focus split, Iskandar was able to avoid the same fate. He ducked under the blaze and slashed through his foe’s wrist. He dashed in, closer than the range of the axes would allow, his spatha aimed to stab his opponent straight through the heart.

It might have actually worked, if Darius was as he normally was as a Servant. But as an Alter, with Salem’s dark power coursing through his veins, he was so much more. Mud poured out of his arm and coalesced into a new hand. The new limb curled into a fist and slammed into Iskandar’s face, sending the King of Conquerors tumbling across the ground.

He whirled around as fast as he could, sparks surging as he barely parried Darius’ follow-up attack, the towering man’s strength now doubled with only one ax to wield. His lightning flared against his rival’s flames, but with each battering blow the electricity waned, unable to strength him beyond his own limits.

Unable to match the impossible enemy bearing down on him.

Darius roared and with a final hammering crash brought his blazing weapon down on Iskandar’s head. The Macedonian king raised his sword to block the strike, but even still was forced to his knees by the force. His arms shook under his foe’s terrifying strength, his hands turning black from the flames he could no longer keep from burning him.

This was all he had. Yang’s maiden powers supplied him with all the magical energy he could ever ask for, but his body could only take in as much as it could, just as one could only carry as much water from a river as their bucket could hold. And even if the bucket was enormous, you could only fill it until it was too heavy for you to carry.

His old rival had taken pity on him, risen to his bait to fight him one on one. And still, Iskandar could not muster the strength to defeat him. He had lectured Darius at Haven for relying on Salem, but he had proven that he was more than willing to fight his own battles.

But, as much as the King of Conquerors was usually fine with failing in his journey, he could not fail here. At this moment, he did not fight for the glorious campaign he dreamt of come anew. No, he still fought for the future, but the future of Yang, and Ruby, and Jaune, and all the glorious heroes and _humans_ of this new era, that their destinies would be their own to decide, not some mud’s. That disgusting sludge would twist no one’s future as she had Waver’s…

That was it.

If you needed to carry more water from the river, you got a bigger bucket. And if it became too heavy, you got a friend to help you.

Bucephalus had been defeated, so that meant the slot of a comrade he could call from his Reality Marble was wide open. And, at this moment, he knew just who he needed by his side.

With a mighty roar, he twisted his sword on a slant and guided Darius’ strike downward and to the left just as he himself twisted and spun away to the right. The back of his tendon was slashed in the escape, trapping him on his knees, but it gave him the breathing room to make a swift cut through the air, a brilliant flash of white light flaring up for a moment.

Darius did not waste time on such triviality, shutting his eyes to keep from being blinded and unleashing another crushing blow, Iskandar forced to block just as he had before.

“Is this all?” Darius screeched. “Is this all you really are? Is this the great spirit I was willing to give my men and my kingdom away to face? Where are you, Iskandar? What is the King of Conquerors?!”

“Glory lies beyond the horizon…”

Glowing green lines ignited across Iskandar’s skin, his sword not longer lowering under Darius’ immense strength. Slowly but surely, the Macedonian struggled to his feet.

“What?” the Persian king whispered. “How can you stand? Your tendon…”

Even as the Alter spoke, green light flashed across the wound, the bloody cut vanished when the glow faded.

“Challenge the unattainable. Speak of conquest and make it real,” Iskandar growled, more to himself than his foe. “For my men, and for those who watch _behind me_!”

With a mighty heave, the King of Conquerors rose to his feet.

And just behind him, his glowing hand outstretched to support his sire, was Waver Velvet.

After all, the heroes of the Hetairoi had their Noble Phantasms sealed, but there was no such restriction on their other abilities. And reinforcement and healing were simple matters for Lord El-Melloi the Second.

With his body newly strengthened, Iskandar unleashed a new round of furious blows, each one crackling with electricity. Just as before, Darius met each attack with his own flaming response, but now the two kings’ barrages were even.

And both were grinning like madmen.

“Finally!” Darius cheered. “This is the Iskandar I remember!”

“Apologies for making you wait so long, Darius,” Iskandar laughed, even as sparks of lightning and flame burst past his face. “But I wonder, are you not displeased that I’ve called another ally to my side?”

“Bah!” Darius snorted. “I would face all your legions if the Queen would get her head out of her ass. Your allies are your strength and I would clash with all of it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted!”

Above them, the sky swirled with storm clouds, a tempestuous maelstrom invading hell’s atmosphere.

Iskandar glanced up at the approaching storm and smirked. “Waver!”

“Sire?!”

“Switch out with the big guy,” Iskandar commanded. “It’s time we end this.”

Waver frowned. “Are you sure, my liege? Can he be trusted?”

“He answered the call, did he not?” Iskandar grinned. “Come now, Waver, have a little faith in yourself.”

The mage chuckled. “Very funny, sire. It will be done.”

Iskandar let out a raucous laugh. _‘And you, master?’_

_“In position. I’ve got your back, big guy.”_

Lightning coiled across Iskandar’s muscles, Darius’ flames blazing to match the electric surge, waves of sapphire and emerald raging in an indomitable clash.

“Once again, I apologize that I cannot give you all my strength, Darius,” Iskandar said. “but allow me to at least unleash its pinnacle, both old and new.”

Darius smirked like a wolf on the hunt. “So far, it’s all been bark. Show me your fangs, King of Conquerors.”

At that, Iskandar bunched his legs, and leapt half a mile into the air, a trail of sparks running behind him. A flash of white light encompassed Waver at the same moment, Darius’s eyes locked upward, unable to see who emerged.

A tornado formed around Iskandar, pushing him higher and higher into the sky, until he was just below the clouds.

When he reached them, the sky parted to reveal Yang, her eyes aglow and a typhoon under her feet. She threw back a hand, a cloud behind her darkening not from the Grimmlands, but with the power of a storm. Wind gathered behind Rider, forming a tunnel from the cloud to him. A red light glowed on the back of Yang’s right hand.

“Iskandar the Conqueror! My Servant, my friend!” Yang howled. “By my Command Seal I order you, win this battle!”

Iskandar gripped his sword even tighter, feeling the reality-warping magic of the Command Seal adding on to the tremendous boost he’d already received from Waver’s magecraft. With a mighty howl, he raised his blade and dived downward. Yang thrust her hand forward, a typhoon accelerating his descent and the storm cloud supercharging him with a lightning bolt the size of a skyscraper. The King of Conquerors fell back to the world as a blazing tempestuous comet.

Darius grinned. Truly, this was the finale the last emperor of Persia had so long desired. This was the clash of spirits he dreamt of since he’d first heard tale of the upstart from the west. One way or another, this would give him his answer.

His emerald fire erupted from his ax; a towering pillar ready to halt the oncoming meteor.

But just as he made to raise his weapon, a pair of thick hands wrapped around his own, throwing off his aim and leaving the King of Conquerors’ path unobstructed.

Darius looked down at the one who’d stopped his assault, his face twisting in fury. “Rainart?!”

Hazel smiled softly at the man, his joy stalwart even as they struggled for control of the ax. “Apologies, but with my Noble Phantasms sealed, this was my only option to aid my king.”

“Your king?”

Hazel nodded. “I am of the Hetairoi at last, and there may I, in time, find redemption, at last at the side of my king.”

Darius raised an eyebrow. “He is your king?”

“For as long as he will have me.”

The Last Emperor of Achaemenid Empire chuckled, looking up with a smile as his doom descended. “Then you are of his strength. That wondrous fool.”

With a thunderous crash, the King of Conquerors struck the earth, his sword cleaving his ancient rival down his center. Lightning erupted from his unchallenged blade, surging out in an explosion that consumed the entire circle, the Athanaton locking their shields to avoid being obliterated even as mud slinked about them. When the light faded, only Iskandar remained in the circle.

He rose to his feet, smiling morosely at the ashes. “Rest well, King of Persia.”

A rival he had surpassed long ago, but a fine and honorable rival nonetheless.

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Yang grinned as she lowered herself to ground, wobbling as she finally released the tornado. She really thought she was getting the hang of this flying avatar of nature thing.

She hopped down into the circle of the Athanaton and dashed over to Rider. Her Servant gazed at the pile of ashes that had once been his opponent for a few more seconds before turning to grin at Yang. “Master! Glad you were able to make it.”

Yang mirrored his smile. “I said I was coming back, didn’t I. No way I’d leave you hanging like that.”

“Indeed,” Iskandar replied. “It has been a joy to fight alongside you. You did well destroying the Relic.”

Yang’s smile disappeared, remembering what had happened during her fight at the castle. “Speaking of, we’ve got to go. Ruby’s disappeared, some sort of teleportation spell or something. We have to find her.”

Rider’s eyes narrowed. He glanced away from Yang and surveyed their surroundings. “Unfortunately, master, we may have more immediate concerns.”

“Huh? What do you mean—” Yang’s eyes widened, her gauntlets unfolding as she realized they were still surrounded by an army of black zombie warriors, mud gushing underneath all their feet. The fire that made up their eyes changed from green to an infernal red. “These guys are Rider Alter’s Noble Phantasm, right?”

“They are,” Iskandar frowned, lightning crackling across his sword. “Which makes their continued existence quite troubling.”

An eerie, offkey chuckle echoed across the plain, coming at once from nowhere and everywhere. Yang’s insides froze just hearing it, as if a phantom of hell had just walked through her body.

Her eyes flared with maiden fire, the wind gathering beneath her feet. “Rider, we should go.”

She leapt into the air, but Iskandar reached up and snatched her leg. He tugged her back down, a black spear racing through the air where her head would have been.

She gulped. “Thanks.”

“No trouble,” Iskandar said, keeping his eyes locked on the army surrounding them. “Why are they still here?”

A small puddle of the black mud trickled into the circle. An elegant pale woman with burning crimson eyes rose up from the pool, a pleasant but chilling smile on her face.

“You should know the history of the Athanaton better than anyone, King of Conquerors,” the woman said. “When their king fell never to rise again, they swore themselves to a new sovereign, continuing to abide by their former master’s preferred successor. In life, that was you. Now, it is me.”

“With that mud of yours providing them with physical forms to tie them to this plain, I take it. The condition for allowing him to duel me,” Iskandar replied, his eyes narrowed. “Salem, I presume.”

The hellish woman gave him a polite bow. “Mother of Grimm and All the Worlds’ Evils, at your service.”

Yang shuddered. The creature before her, masquerading as a woman, was the creator of the Grimm, the source of all the monsters who had hounded humanity for as long as anyone could remember. She had set Cinder on Beacon, kidnapped and twisted Weiss, summoned the Alters, and by extension was responsible for all those they’d killed. Uncle Qrow, her mother, Sun, Pyrrha, Penny, Adam, and who knew how many others were blood on her hands. And she just stood there smiling, like it was a lovely sunny day.

When Kirei had done that, it had infuriated Yang. Now, while she still felt anger welling deep within her, it was tempered by a healthy terror. This was no psycho who she could burn to ash with her powers. This was a monster more ancient than continents, a demon that had shattered the moon and could twist her mind with one touch of that mud. She and Rider couldn’t fight her.

But given how they were completely surrounded; she wasn’t sure what else they could do.

_‘Rider, please tell me you have an idea.’_

_“I don’t know master. I had hoped that defeating Darius would take care of his army but if she has… wait… is that?”_

_‘What? What is it?’_

_“Master, use your powers. Have the clouds above us flash that Atlesien code, the one for SOS.”_

_‘Why? Rider, what’s going on?’_

_“I sense something. Something I have not felt since the Fourth War. And we need to let its wielder know we’re here before she blows us away with the enemy.”_

_‘She?’_

Mordred? She did have an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, so she was one of the few could get them out of this mess. But Rider didn’t meet her until this war, so he couldn’t be referring to her, right?

“At my service, are you?” Rider spoke. “And why, may I ask, would desire to have one such as you, who twists their followers to their side, at my service?”

Despite the harsh words, Salem’s smile did not falter. “Besides the army awaiting my command to crush you?”

“Besides that.”

“Of course. I suppose I do not mean ‘at your service’, but rather, here to make you a proposal. You are one for negotiations as I recall.”

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. “I am not opposed to them. Though, if you wish for me to become Darius’ replacement, the general for your new army, I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Are you sure?” Salem asked. “You and your master would be well compensated, I promise. Despite what you say, that I ‘twist’ my followers to my side, I have always sought to fulfill my end of our agreements. Darius wished to face you, and he did. Cu Chulainn desired battle, and he got it. Arturia desired the power to defeat Gilgamesh, and I gladly gave it to her.”

“And Weiss?” Yang snarled, her eyes flaring with power. With any luck, it would appear the maiden flames manifested in response to her anger, not calculated to have lightning flash the Atlesian SOS code above them. “What did you give her? You had her kill her brother!”

“Her brother was the one who pushed her into the mud in the first place,” Salem informed them, a frown finally gracing her face. “Her father egged him on. They were willing to sacrifice her to escape their sins, even though she’d done nothing wrong. It is a situation I am quite familiar with. Giving her the chance to avenge herself on those who would damn her was merely giving her the opportunity I did not get.”

“Yeah, you just wanted what was best for her,” Yang snarked. “Psychopathy is really the best route for anyone.”

“It dealt with your uncle well enough.”

Yang curled her fists, her eyes blazing red. She couldn’t wait to get the Grail and put this bitch in the ground.

“Nevertheless, I must still decline,” Rider declared. “Philosophical differences notwithstanding, the world cannot serve two lords.”

“I do not mean to have the world serve me. I plan to _be_ the world. A better world,” Salem explained. “And it will be a place no one has ever seen before, let alone conquered.”

“Hmm… I’ll admit, the idea of that is tempting.”

“Rider!” Yang shouted.

“The idea!” he protested, waving his hand to assure her he wasn’t actually thinking about this. He turned back to Salem with a scowl. “But in practice, what would your world be?”

“A world of truth, bereft of lies.”

“And that’s why it is foolish,” Iskandar stated. “Mankind, as depressing as it may sound, needs lies. ‘I am strong’. ‘I decide my own fate’. ‘I will conquer the world’. Everyone lies at some point or another, to others or to themselves. The lies we tell ourselves in our present allow us to forge them into truth in the future, to shape our destinies. If one is left with only truth, they will wallow in it until they drown in despair. The fate you condemned Hazel to.”

“I see,” Salem murmured. “Unfortunate, but not unexpected. So be it.”

The Queen of the Grimm snapped her fingers. The Athanaton all smashed the foot of their spears into the ground with a united, resounding crash. Their eyes blazed a demonic scarlet as they began their advance.

Yang raised Ember Celica, her maiden powers at the ready, but her lip quivered with fear. “Rider?”

“Get ready to fly,” he simply said. “It should be happening any—”

His words were cut off when a gargantuan golden pillar of light, erupting out from Salem’s castle, suddenly split the sky, as if the sun had finally risen over the Grimmlands. Everyone from Yang, the Athanaton Ten Thousand, and even Salem herself found themselves transfixed upon the wondrous sight.

It was… mesmerizing. The glow seemed pure and beautiful, like a piece of heaven that had invaded hell and remained to declare that it would not be cowed, that it would not bend or break. That there was good in the world, and it was worth fighting for. That all the sacrifice, that all the pain and loss… it would matter. They would be remembered.

A warm, calm peace settled over Yang. Her mind flashed to memories of days long past, of Summer reading her bedtime stories, of dad training her and Uncle Qrow playing video games, of her and Ruby devouring entire jars of cookies while dad was away. And then she saw memories that never were but in a perfect world might have been, of Ruby, Blake, Weiss, Raven, Summer, dad, Uncle Qrow, and Zwei sitting down at a table together, just to have dinner. Team RWBY and Team STRQ, united in life as well as legend. She knew it was a fairytale, a dream that never was, but to see the light, to see its prayer, its demand for it and all who would fight for that impossible paradise, that promised victory that would never come to matter, to _be exalted…_ to see such power at their back made her heart soar.

“No,” Salem whimpered, almost sad, resigned. “You cannot do it. They cannot do it. I have to do it for them, or it will never come.”

“Master!”

Yang was roused from her mesmerization by Rider shaking her shoulders, his expression serious and desperate.

“Fly, master. Now!”

Yang didn’t know why Iskandar was so panicked, but then again, she hadn’t exactly seen anything friendly come from giant pillars of light recently, no matter how they made her feel. And with the Athanaton Ten Thousand still entranced, this might be their only shot to escape.

Yang gathered wind and fire under her feet and blasted off into the air, Iskandar dissipating into spirit form to follow her. She glanced back to see if their exit would get them fired upon but instead found the zombie soldiers scattering, not in any specific direction, just trying to get as far away from each other as their Servant class speed would get them, as if they didn’t want to present a center mass. Even Salem sank back into her mud river.

Not a moment too soon either, because the instant the demon shrank away, Yang heard it. A shout by a voice that sounded both familiar and not, but ringing with truth, real truth, throughout. A siren of magnificent glory among the dregs of hell.

“ **Excalibur!** ”

The pillar came down, the light scorching across the land and sky, burning away every demonic soldier or beast caught in its path, neither air, ground, Grimm, or even pseudo-Servant able to stand in its path. It was the will of mankind and it would not be denied by mere darkness and sin.

Unfortunately, the backblast of the surge of heavenly power practically sent hurricanes rocketing out from its path. Yang’s wind that she was using to fly was swept out from under her, the Spring Maiden sent helplessly careening through the sky. She’d been blown miles, nearly into the Grimm swarm battling what little remained of Ironwood’s fleet, before Iskandar was able to materialize behind her and halt her tumble through the air. It would take them quite a trip to get back to the castle and meet up with whoever had fired that blast.

Still, Yang couldn’t help the smile that blossomed across her face. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t panicking about Ruby or unsettled by Kirei. They were winning. Salem wasn’t totally beaten yet, the Athanaton’s scattering had prevented that blast from taking all of them out, but she was scared. She knew they were close to the Grail. Once they met up with the others and finished Caster, her days were at an end.

The light had let her know everything was going to be okay.

 

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Vernal didn’t know what to think.

That light, that enormous pillar of pure gold that had raked across the Grimmlands, just the sight of it had stirred… something within her. Something she hadn’t felt since Raven’s death. Hell, maybe even before that.

She felt that everything was going to be alright.

It was crazy, insane really. Here she was, in the middle of the gods forsaken Grimmlands, Atlas’ navy crumbling around her, and she thought everything was going to be alright.

No. She didn’t think. She _felt_. There was a crucial difference. One was logic, the other was instinct.

Well, instinct hadn’t let her down before.

Oh, forget it. That light came from Salem’s castle. If there was anyone she could help end this madness, they would be there.

She ran off into the belly of the beast, ready to do her part. But she didn’t see another battleship plummet from the sky, smoke and fire trailing behind as it hurtled towards the castle.

 

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Arturia sighed as she lowered her sword, the divine glow fading from the holy blade. She narrowed her eyes to observe the aftermath of her assault beyond the scorched trench that ran over a mile into the distance.

Unfortunately, there were several scattered black forms moving about outside the blast zone.

“Did you get them?” Jaune asked worriedly.

Arturia shook her head. “Most, but not all. Excalibur is an Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm, not an Anti-Army. It’s meant to be used on a stationary, concentrated target. The army was in tight formation, but waiting for Yang and Rider to move gave them the opportunity to scatter. Not far, but enough for a few score to escape.”

“A few score Alter Servants,” Weiss pointed out, frowning. “And they’ll be coming straight for us.”

Arturia nodded. “Without a doubt.”

It was all so strange, being back. She could remember her time as an Alter, Salem’s whispers in her mind, comforting her, consoling her, making everything she was doing seem so right even as she knew she had sold herself to evil. Her love for her family and her honor as a knight had been played on and the Mother of Grimm had turned her virtues into the reins that bound her. All for the sake of destroying Gilgamesh. It seemed almost a dream, a movie where she’d watched a character that looked just like her dress in black armor and commit unspeakable acts.

But it was not a dream. She had done those things, slain Adam Taurus and Sun Wukong, broken Mistral’s defenses and unleashed Grimm upon the kingdom, taken up her sword against the very son she had sought to protect.

She had seen Weiss’ hand shaking when she thought no one else was looking. The girl was probably the only person in the world who knew what the King of Knights was going through, tormented by sins they had committed under the thrall of All the World’s Evils. Sins they shouldn’t have blamed themselves for, corrupted as they had been, but could not help but lay at their own feet. The blood was on their hands, whether mud had run through their veins at the time or not. But while Arturia had lived years bearing the weight of absolute failure, learned to move forward with it, the white-haired girl had not. She had been willing to give up her very soul just for a chance at relief from her demons.

And Arturia now resided in her sister’s body.

It just didn’t stop. No matter what she tried, she always ended up hurting those she sought to help.

Then she’d just have to push on. Mordred and Winter had given everything they had to get her back on the right side of this fight. She would see it through to the end, wherever that led.

“Weiss! Jaune!”

The trio turned at the sound of Blake’s voice, the cat faunus and Diarmuid landing upon the castle battlement, master in her Servant’s arms.

“We saw the light,” Lancer said, letting Blake down. “Where is the King of Knights?”

Arturia smiled softly and raised Excalibur. “Hello again, old friend.”

Diarmuid and Blake’s eyes widened.

“How?” The Irish spearman whispered.

Arturia tapped her, Winter’s, chest, a soft golden glow emanating from within. “Avalon is a powerful tool. As long as it is with me, it can keep this body from deteriorating under my legend.”

Diarmuid grinned. “I see. It is an honor to fight by your side once more, King of Knights.”

“And I, you,” Arturia replied, though her smile fell. “Diarmuid, I know that my words mean little, but I am sorry for what occurred at the White Fang—”

“That was not your fault,” Diarmuid assured her. “Master Adam would not… he would not wish for you to blame yourself.”

Arturia wanted to believe him, but his hesitation on his former master’s feelings left her unsure.

“What about Winter?” Blake asked. “Is she… is she still in there?”

“Scraps of her, maybe,” Weiss said. “Her soul is still there, but torn to shreds. Even if Arturia left… I don’t know how to fix that.”

Blake immediately came in and engulfed her teammate in a hug. The display caused a smile to flicker across Arturia’s face. Winter may have been gone, but Weiss still had sisters.

“The Relic of Creation?” Jaune inquired.

Diarmuid shook his head. “Caster destroyed it.”

Jaune frowned. “So, Mordred was right. Damnit.”

“Where is Mordred, anyway?”

“Gone.” Arturia solemnly informed him.

Diarmuid frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. She was… a true knight.”

“She was.”

“You killed Caster, right?” Jaune asked. “That means…”

“We can get the Grail,” Blake declared, her and Weiss pulling apart. “Where’s Rider? Once he and Lancer fight, we can end this.”

“Rider and Yang just got… blown away,” Jaune told her. “Still, with the Gordius Wheel, they should be back here soon.”

“Indeed,” Arturia confirmed. “And we can use that time to secure the Lesser Grail.”

Jaune and Blake’s joyous faces froze. “The Lesser… Grail? Do we need that?”

Arturia raised an eyebrow. “It is the traditional method of making a wish. Why do you… it’s still in Gilgamesh’s Vault, isn’t it?”

The huntsmen nodded.

Well, that was not good. For all they knew, Gilgamesh was dead, slain by Hazel, who could already be making his way back to the castle to finish off the rest of them. If the Lesser Grail was gone, then… wait…

“The Greater Grail,” Arturia realized. “Weiss, do you think you can—”

“Maybe,” the huntress shrugged. “Salem told me a lot about it. And my glyphs have always had some sort of weird connection to it. But I don’t know what I’d even have to do to trigger it.”

“Trying something is better than trying nothing,” Diarmuid said. “We should at least get to the chamber before—incoming!”

The group whirled around to follow the spearman’s line of sight, their eyes going wide. An Atlesian battleship was plummeting from the sky, heading straight for the castle in a ball of smoke and flaming metal.

Arturia snatched up her son and Weiss, Lancer grabbing Blake. The Servants leapt away with all their mythical agility, just barely escaping the blast zone as the wreck smashed into the castle, the entire structure collapsing in on itself. A massive dust storm surged out from the point of impact, flowing over the group.

When she landed on the ground and set her charges down, Arturia frowned. From what she could see of the sky, the final Atlesian battleship was being overrun by Grimm, the fighters and bullhead buzzing about it forced to fall back to Salem’s castle. Already, the Saber could feel the sparse survivors of the Athanaton Ten Thousand advancing on the stronghold. It seemed their final stand would be at the heart of the enemy’s fortress.

It did not matter. She was the King of Knights. She had chosen to reclaim that burden. Mordred had thought the world needed her and she would not let her son’s sacrifice be in vain. She would make up for her sins. She would save the world. She would protect everyone she could.

She would save her family.


	90. Night Falls

Explosions echoed across the Grimmlands, a cacophony of shockwaves rippling out from Salem’s castle. Fire and ash filled the air as the final Atlesian battleship crumbled from the sky, the gigantic swarm of Grimm finally breaking through and descending upon the ruins of their mistress’ fortress, a pitch-black cloud consuming the entire citadel.

Fortunately, a gigantic beam of golden light burst out, cleaving the dark miasma in two, the Grimm frantically flocking away from the blaze of Excalibur’s power. The shining slash felled thousands of Nevermores, Griffons, and Sphinxes, even slicing a pair of Leviathans in two. For a single bright moment, it seemed possible that the promised victory could be claimed.

Unfortunately, that moment did not last. Half the horde of Grimm dived in once again while the other half opened their maws and unleashed a hellish bombardment upon their former stronghold.

Yang grimaced from within Rider’s arms, her Servant dashing them both across the hills and plains of the bleak hellscape as fast as he could. The fact that she could see the chaos unfolding at the castle was a good sign that they were getting closer, but the fact that they were still miles and miles away did not bode well for her friends that were already suffering the Mother of Grimm’s full wrath.

“Can we go any faster?” she asked. She knew Iskandar’s agility wasn’t great, it was why he had the chariot, but with the Gordius Wheel destroyed they wouldn’t be able to make it back to the castle to help their friends before they were overwhelmed. Arturia was powerful, but Excalibur used up a lot of magical energy and even Jaune’s aura couldn’t power it for long, even if the lack of red lightning in the sky meant Mordred was more than likely gone. “Anyone in Hetairoi?”

Iskandar shook his head. “Bucephalus will be out of commission for a while after what Darius did, and there were no other animals who made it to the Throne to join the Hetairoi in full.”

Damn it! They needed to get back to help! Atlas’ navy had been torn to shreds. There might have been a few mechs or bullheads still around, but not enough to keep the Grimm off the masters. Blake and Jaune would be fighting for their lives and there were just too many of them for Arturia and Diarmuid to keep off them. Add to that the fact that they still had no idea where Ruby was, and it was only a matter of time before her friends were killed by the vast numbers descending on them or by their own Servants blindsided by the mud and turned into Alters.

Honestly, Yang didn’t know what she and Iskandar could do to help if they did get there. But she knew that she wouldn’t do her friends any good away from the fight. Maybe the others had killed Caster. If they had, then Rider and Lancer could finish the war and use the Grail to wipe Salem off the map. It was a slim chance, the Mother of Grimm would have ordered her Servant away from the final battle to keep them from doing just that, but it was the only chance they had. And to do it, they needed to get to the battlefield!

“What about a Command Seal?” Yang inquired. “They could teleport you there no problem, but could they take me with you—”

A golden portal suddenly appeared right in front of the duo, Iskandar skidding to a halt to avoid their momentum throwing them in. Yang jumped down from his arms, maiden fire lighting around her eyes as Ember Celica unfurled, the cracks from the battle with Kirei still marring the yellow steel.

“The Gate of Babylon,” Yang whispered, her eyes narrowed. “Gilgamesh is alive?”

“Evidently,” Rider observed. “But why summon a portal out in the open like this? Usually, he fires a weapon from it, not leaves the door to his storehouse wide open.”

“Wide open?”

Yang reexamined the swirling gateway and to her surprise, Rider’s observations were right on the money. The portal wasn’t closing or firing a weapon at them. It was just sitting there, as if inviting them in.

She opened her palm and chucked a fireball through the portal. No way she was going to be dumb enough to accept an obvious trap from Gilgamesh.

Iskandar cocked an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

“What? It’s Gilgamesh,” Yang replied. “You’re not seriously saying we should go in?”

“Perhaps,” Rider said. “Goldie isn’t the type for traps. And another ally wouldn’t exactly hurt right now.”

Yang frowned. He wasn’t exactly wrong. No matter how much she hated Gilgamesh, Salem was the bigger threat right now. And he’d made his feelings on her clear for everyone. It would certainly help to have the King of Heroes on their side if they were going to put the mother of Grimm down for good. Plus, if Kirei had learned about Ruby’s true nature, then maybe he knew and could help them find her.

But what would he do then? Try to turn her back into a sword? She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let him hurt her little sister.

Suddenly, a shape leapt out of the portal, cloaked in shadows under the darkness of the Grimmlands. Yang and Iskandar both raised their weapons.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Don’t fireball me!”

Yang lowered her weapons, getting a good look at exactly who had come up. “Oscar?”

“Haha!” Iskandar cheered. “By the gods, you’re alive, boy!”

The farm boy smiled nervously, brushing off the light singe marks on his cheeks. “Nice to see you too, Rider, Yang. Congratulations on the whole maiden thing… I think?”

“Thanks,” Yang said, taking the compliment as the awkward icebreaker it was intended. What with apparently having hit him with a fireball and all. “So, you and Ozpin—”

“Just me now. Salem killed Ozpin,” Oscar told them. “Well, me and Ruby are here with Gilgamesh, but in my head it’s just me—”

“Wait!” Yang interjected immediately, grabbing hold of the farm boy. “Ruby’s in there? With Gilgamesh? Do he know—”

“That Ruby’s also his world-destroying sword? Yeah,” Oscar said. He lightly removed Yang’s hands from his shoulders, a sympathetic look on his face. “You’re going to want to come in. There is a lot going on.”

Yang frowned. Gilgamesh knew Ruby was Ea. Okay, not good. But apparently not as bad as it could be. Oscar wouldn’t be inviting them in if he didn’t think it was safe. And if Ruby was in there and not fighting for her life, they might actually be able to pull an alliance off. Besides, if anyone could come up with a plan to finish this war once and for all, it was Ruby.

She nodded to Oscar. “Let’s go.”

 

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There were so many Grimm.

That was the only thought running through Jaune’s head. The young huntsman panted hard, racing among the ruins of Salem’s castle, unable to tell where the wreckage of the Atlesian battleship ended and the rubble of the dark fortress it had fallen upon began. The group had rushed back to the stronghold before the dust storm had even had time to settle, desperate to return to the Greater Grail and figure out a way to put a stop to this horror. Unfortunately, getting an airship dropped on something tended to mess with important things like corridors. Even Weiss had no idea how to find a new path to the Grail chamber, or even if the room had survived the impact.

And the Grimm weren’t giving them any time to find out. The swarm quickly rolled over the last of the battleships and thousands upon thousands of the black beasts descended from the sky, encircling them for the kill. A tide of the creatures on the ground advanced on the crash site, a pair of Leviathans leading the charge.

Fortunately, his mother promptly showed them why that was a stupid idea and blasted a quarter of them to kingdom come. The horde of Nevermores, Griffons, Sphinxes, and Wyverns withdrew at the sight of her sword, the blazing golden light terrifying them even when it didn’t strike and burn them to ash. It was quite a sight to see hundreds of thousands of Grimm incinerated in an instant.

Of course, with Salem directly present, wherever she was hiding, the normally primitive demons were not restricted to their base instincts. The flying Grimm split into two sections, one horde diving towards the group. Once again Arturia used her Noble Phantasm to split the force in two, but the other half took the opportunity to take up a further back position and unleash a hail of fireballs upon them all.

Jaune’s mouth was completely agape as the _literal fire_ raining from the sky completely filled his vision. His mother’s blade flared once more to cut down the advancing swarm, but she couldn’t do anything to stop the rest of the bombardment. There was just too much, too many blasts coming from every direction, all of them ready to reduce them to ash.

“Jaune move!” Blake yelled.

The cat faunus snagged both his and Weiss’ arms. The next instant when the hellfire struck, her semblance activated over all three of them, shadow clones taking their place in the path of the blaze as they were forced above and in front of the assault. Unfortunately, while the maneuver did prevent them from being incinerated on the spot, it did not shield them from the blast erupting on their back, the trio sent tumbling through the sky. If Lancer hadn’t leapt into the air to catch them all, they would have smashed themselves against the molten metal and jagged stone of the wreck.

“Thank you, Diarmuid,” Blake said.

“No problem, master,” Lancer replied.

“Where’s mom?” Jaune asked worriedly.

He picked himself up from the filthy, shrapnel filled ground and tried to catch sight of Winter’s form amidst the field of craters, each one cluttered with wreckage and rivers of black mud that must have spilled out from some reservoir buried underneath the castle.

Fortunately, his mother’s shining sword quickly cut through the haze and smoke, another beam of golden light blazing up into the sky to swallow another legion of Grimm. As the dust parted, her body was revealed to not have a scratch on it.

Jaune grinned. Whether it was her Magic Resistance or Avalon, it was good to know his mother was in no direct danger from the creatures of Grimm, even as hundreds of thousands marshaled against her.

However, the dozens of black skeleton spearmen closing in on her were another story, their eyes burning with deep crimson fire as their bodies dripped mud, the final legion of the Athanaton Ten Thousand.

The remnants of Rider Alter’s army advanced on Arturia in scattered groups, too spread out to get in a single shot of Excalibur. Avalon could protect her, but she’d have to stop firing her sword to use her sheath’s ultimate defense. And if she took her attention off the aerial Grimm at all, they would seize the opportunity and swarm the masters. They’d be overwhelmed, and without energy support, she’d die. But if she kept firing at the Grimm, the Athanaton soldiers could destroy her brain, the only organ Avalon couldn’t heal, thereby freeing up the Grimm to swarm and kill them. Either way, they would be overrun by the sheer numbers at their enemy’s disposal.

At least, if they only had one Servant.

Blake glanced at Lancer. “Can you protect her?”

“There are nearly a hundred of them. Each with the power of a Servant.”

“And?”

“It will be close.”

“Can’t have that, can we,” Blake remarked, raising her right hand. The marks on her flesh glowed bright red. “Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, by my Command Seal, I order you to destroy the soldiers of the Athanaton Ten Thousand attacking Arturia.”

The Irishman smiled as he lit up with emerald energy. “It will be done, my master.”

Then he was just gone. Jaune had to blink a dozens times just to register that he’d moved and then glance about to figure out that the Servant of the Spear had dashed over to Arturia’s side faster than his eyes could track, the heads of three of the Athanaton’s soldiers lying at his feet, their black blood dripping from his twin spears.

Arturia smirked at him. “Our match from the forest is still on, I presume?”

Diarmuid mirrored her grin. “If you so desire. I’ll be more than happy to best you twice.”

“Oh?” Arturia swung down her sword, golden light shining and thousands more Grimm screaming their death throes. “Who bested whom again?”

“Ha! Good hunting, King of Knights.”

“And you, Knight of the Fianna.”

The pair split off to deal with their respective hordes of darkness, their Noble Phantasms hungry for the blood of the demons descending upon them all.

Jaune was relieved that his mother and her old friend could have some sense of levity between them, but he was painfully aware it was an act, put on to try to put him and the others at ease. Even with a Command Seal boost, Diarmuid was outnumbered a hundred to one, not great odds for even a warrior of his caliber. And while Excalibur was proving wondrously effective at keeping the aerial Grimm back, it couldn’t last forever. The Sword of Promised Victory was a costly Noble Phantasm and Jaune’s aura couldn’t power it for long. It was absurdly large but not infinite.

“Incoming!” Weiss shouted, laying out a trio of glyphs around her, a white Arma Gigas and two Boarbatusks risings from their depths. “We’ve got company!”

Oh right. There was also the not insignificant army of land Grimm that was currently marching on them. Beowolves, Ursa, Creepers, Deathstalkers, Beringels, even a Leviathan, everything that wasn’t in the sky trying not to get disintegrated by his mother was headed their way and fast, ready to tear them limb from limb.

Jaune drew Crocea Mors in broadsword mode but couldn’t hide his gulp of worry. His mom was keeping them from getting swarmed from the skies. Lancer was taking care of the Athanaton mostly coming from the North. That meant it was up to him, Blake, and Weiss to take care of the enemies coming from the East.

The hundreds of thousands of enemies.

…

Yeah, they were so fucked.

“Here they come!” Blake shouted, Gambol Shroud at the ready.

The first group that came upon them was thankfully quite sparse, probably some overeager sprinters who’d rushed ahead of the pack. About a dozen Creeps, five Alpha Beowolves, and a pair of Deathstalkers fell upon them, howling for blood.

Weiss’ Grimm were their first line of defense, the Arma Gigas immediately stalemating the Deathstalker in a duel, its ghostly sword crashing again and again with its foe’s stinger. The Boarbatusks curled into their assault ball forms and rammed into the Creepers like bowling balls, knocking the primitive demons on their back and then goring their undersides with their tusks. However, the pig-like creatures were far outnumbered and their targets' allies quickly set upon them, biting and snapping at their undefended sides.

Of course, said Creepers paid the price for their attempted cleverness. Specifically, one very pissed off Ice Queen with a lot of issues to work out.

Weiss screeched with fury as she fell upon the beasts of darkness, Myrtenaster baying for vengeance as it ripped through their black hides. The huntress might have lacked dust, but her semblance still far from powerless, the results of her training with Salem plain to see as she used her glyphs to bash the Creepers towards her so she could viciously tear into them. If she was doing it to anything but Grimm, and they weren’t fighting the literal end of the world, Jaune probably would have been worried for her.

As it was, he had to keep his focus on the pack of Beowolves coming for him and Blake. The lead beast leapt upon him, bringing down its paw for a heavy swipe. Jaune stepped under its guard and raised his sword above his head. The heavy limb smashed down, but Crocea Mors was heavier and stronger and held the paw at bay. It might have become a struggle of strength between man and monster, but Blake promptly seized the opportunity to dash under the Grimm’s guard and cut out its stomach.

The Beowolf let out a rather pitiful whine and toppled over, its body disintegrating back to darkness.

That was how the rest of the short encounter went. In the Grimmlands or not, five Beowolves were still only five Beowolves. A challenge perhaps to regular first-year Beacon students, but after everything they’d been through, they were hardly mere first years anymore. When the entire pack was slashed up and laid out across the rubble, he and Blake shared a curt, comradely nod. They’d gone through hell together and gods be damned, they were going to get back out or give Salem a nasty nightmare trying.

Weiss tore off the head of the last of the Creepers, panting hard as she rose back to her feet, her Arma Gigas squashing the Deathstalkers’ head with a brutal stomp of its foot.

“Who’s next?!” the Schnee heiress screamed out at the tide of Grimm.

Grimm who were, quite conspicuously, _not_ moving any closer.

Red flags immediately went up in Jaune’s mind. If the Grimm killed them, their Servants would die with them and Salem would win for sure. The only reason they wouldn’t charge in with everything they had was if they were certain that the huntsmen, and everything around them, would soon be destroyed.

It was at that moment he looked up and caught the ominous yellow energy charging within the sole remaining Leviathan’s jaws.

“Get behind me!” he shouted, raising Crocea Mors, power coiling around his blade.

The Leviathan opened its maw, a massive beam of crackling energy spewing forth to annihilate the huntsmen.

Jaune wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing. Even if he did fire Strike Air, the gargantuan Grimm was too far away for him to hit it. If he stopped the blast head-on, that would just leave him nearly out of aura and the Leviathan able to fire another shot at its leisure. Not to mention he probably wouldn’t have the strength to keep up his mother’s Excalibur barrage.

But attacking, lashing out to slay the monster, wasn’t the only trick in his arsenal. By keeping the power-infused air swirling instead of releasing it in a single blast, he could form a tornado cocoon around himself and others, a bigger, stronger version of what he’d done in Mistral to protect Ruby and his dad from Gilgamesh. It would still cost a lot of aura, but if he could pull it off, he could shield his friends.

“ **Hammer of the Wind King!** ”

The typhoon erupted from his sword, churning with golden power as it encircled him, Weiss, and Blake. The energy beam crashed into the vibrant wind, the cyclone shuddering a bit under the blast, but in the end, the protective gale held, his will unyielding in the face of danger to his friends.

Unfortunately, Jaune quickly found himself suffering the same issue he’d feared from the offensive maneuver. His aura crackled with strain, his mother stumbling out of the corner of his eye. He had to conserve energy, but the Leviathan was already charging for another shot. If he kept the wind shield up, he’d run out of aura and his mom’s defense would falter. But if he let it down, they’d all get annihilated.

A firm hand on his shoulder reminded him of another option.

“Take my aura,” Blake ordered him. “You did it in Unlimited Bladeworks, you can do it now.”

“Wait! You take aura?” Weiss squealed, before shaking her head and mirroring her teammate’s hold. “You know what, I don’t need to know. Do it!”

Jaune grinned. His aura flared white, power surging from Blake’s purple field and Weiss’ blue, the will of their souls slinking into his own. His friends had faith in him, and he would not disappoint. He would protect everyone he could. Just like Ruby had taught him. Just like Mordred had taught him.

Power surged through his body, his tornado whipping up with renewed vigor. When the Leviathan fired its second shot, the energy beam shattered against his gale, crimson sparks lining the wind.

The Grimm on the edge grew impatient at the humans’ defiance, especially when Excalibur took the briefest of moments out of its butchering of the sky demons to slash the Leviathan in two. With their champion felled, the tide of darkness charged once more to devour the huntsmen.

Jaune glanced back to his friends. Weiss’ summons had disappeared from lack of support and Blake was sagging from exhaustion. He immediately halted his semblance and dropped the typhoon.

“Jaune?” Blake said, her eyes going wide. “What are you doing?”

“If you run out of aura, Lancer will be on a ticking clock. And if he or my mom goes down, we’re all finished,” Jaune pointed out. “The Hammer of the Wind King is expensive and we’re all running out of power. We’ll last longer without it.”

“There’s nearly a million of them!”

“And if we kept the shield up, they’d all be on us the moment it fell,” Jaune replied. “We’ll do better if we can split them off.”

“Split them off?” Weiss asked. “What are you—Wait, what is that?”

Jaune narrowed his eyes to where Weiss was pointing, a small shape dashing in front of the Grimm lines, an entire pack of Ursa Major close behind in front of the swarm.

“Is that—”

“I hate you all!” Vernal screamed, finally reaching their position. She whirled around at the Grimm behind her, her chakram guns firing off an orange laser beam and slicing the line of monsters in two. The bandit then proceeded to tumble to the ground, covered in blood, cuts, soot, and a nasty bite mark in her side as she laid flat on her back, panting hard for air. “I hate you all. So much.”

Weiss cocked an eyebrow. “You brought… the bandit?”

“Nice to see you too, Ice Queen. Glad you’re not a goth anymore.”

Weiss curled away in shame, obviously not appreciating the reference to her time corrupted.

Blake shot her teammate a sympathetic look before she dragged Vernal back to her feet. “No time for snark. Up and at’em, the four of us are in for the fight of our lives.”

“I think you mean six of us!”

The trio whirled around to the sight of Ren jogging into the wreckage with Nora on his back, her muscles still overtaxed from the duel with Saber Alter.

Even with the apocalypse upon them, Nora waved merrily at them like it was a day at the park. “Hey, guys! Nice seeing you here! Winter’s shooting Arturia’s sword, probably a hell of a story behind that. I take it Mor-Mor’s plan worked?”

Jaune frowned. “It did. But Nora, she’s—”

“Gone.” Nora finished, a strained, weary smile adorning her face. “I figured. No way she’d miss a fight like this if she wasn’t. But that just means… just means we need to survive. So she'll have mattered.”

Jaune’s eyes widened, before his face settled into a steely expression. He raised his sword, his sibling gift crackling along the blade, Red Thunder ready to avenge its master. “You good to fight?”

Nora and Ren both raised a Stormflower pistol each. “We’re splitting.”

At that moment, the frontline of the Grimm exploded in a mass of fire, a symphony of missiles scorching the vanguard, the hellish beast howling in agony as they were trampled over by their fellows.

A squad of scraped and battered bullheads, led by an airship with the White Fang’s wolf symbol painted on the side, hovered around the group of huntsmen. The side doors of the lead ship opened up, Ilia, Ironwood, Sienna Khan, and a whole mess of White Fang troops jumping out.

“Are you guys going to fight, or are we just standing here talking until the Grimm slaughter us all?” Ilia chimed in, cracking her whip as she took up position beside Blake.

Vernal chuckled as she spun her chakrams around her hands. “I’m up for anything if you are, beautiful.”

Sienna glanced at the bandit, particularly the bloody bite mark on side, and frowned. “I’ve seen wounds like that before. You’ll last ten minutes, at most.”

“Then let’s make them memorable.”

Jaune turned to Ironwood. “Do you have any more guys who can help us?”

The general shrugged. “Scattered pockets attacking the horde from the flanks, maybe. We lost contact when the battleships went down.”

“So, this is it then?”

Jaune glanced around. Four bullheads and a few dozen huntsmen and terrorists to hold off half a million Grimm, and that was assuming that none of their other enemies got a lucky shot on his mother or Lancer. A scattered, broken remnant of humans and faunus, most of whom didn’t even like each other, against darkness and evil unfathomable. There only hope buried under a literal mountain.

The tide of Grimm approached, black flesh and dark eyes stretching as far as the eye could see. Not invincible, but unending, more demons newly spawn from their homeland’s mud filtering in from the back. This was their foe, unwilling and unable to abide their existence.

Well… he had wanted to be a hero.

Might as well die like one.

Jaune raised his sword, crimson electricity sparking upon the edge of Crocea Mors. Burning defiance entrusted and inherited from the Knight of Rebellion coursed through his veins.

“ **Red Thunder!** ”

A dozen bolts of scarlet lightning erupted from his blade, the lead pack of Beowolves burnt to ash in the blink of an eye.

The night would not falter. The night would not fall. The night would take them.

But they would not go quietly.

 

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****

He’d seen the Great Pyramids of Giza at their prime. He’d walked the halls of the Parthenon. He conquered the world from Macedonia to the steppes of India. Suffice to say, there were few things in creation that could make Iskandar, King of Conquerors’ jaw drop.

The inside of the Gate of Babylon was most definitely one of them.

“I advise you to cease your gawking,” Gilgamesh said, leaning against a shelf of bejeweled weaponry. “Though my treasury is more than deserving of your wonder, we have other matters to attend to.”

Oscar sighed in exasperation while Yang glared daggers at the golden king. Iskandar knew his master had ample reason to dislike the King of Heroes, but they really did need his help. They could settle grudges after they saved the world.

Besides, he’d been looking forward to this for a long time.

He flashed Gilgamesh a large grin. “So we do, goldie. Looks like we’re finally going to be allies after all.”

Gilgamesh smirked but shook his head. “I am loyal to my master alone, Rider. She is allied to your master and the others in turn. But don’t believe I have any more stake in this Grail War then I did previously. Once the witch is dealt with, you will receive no further help from me.”

“Really, what a shame,” Iskandar said. “Are you sure you don’t want to help me conquer the world after this is all over?”

Gilgamesh shrugged. “I will not stand in your way.”

Iskandar cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

He had expected the King of Heroes to decline his offer of a more permanent alliance, he had to try but he had no illusions about his chances. But he had also expected him to dismiss him as a usurper, to declare he would strike him down once more in defense of his kingdom. But he hadn’t. Something had changed in Gilgamesh. It was probably good for them as he was now willing to help them, but Iskandar had never seen him so… subdued.

“Where’s Ruby?” Yang demanded. “If you hurt her, I swear to—”

“I’m fine, Yang! I’m his master!” Ruby’s voice called from down the aisle of shelves.

The blond huntress’ face froze in abject shock at her sister’s voice. “Huh?”

Iskandar, Yang, and Oscar turned down the aisle to see the red hooded huntress herself, sitting cross-legged before an opulent pedestal, styled after that sword Gilgamesh had killed him with in the Fourth War. Her body was covered in glowing silver scars, her hands held out before her as her aura flared red. A series of turquoise lights hung in the air before her, fluttering about in some strange, mercurial shape.

“ _Trace on_ ,” Ruby growled, the lines before her shifting for a moment before fizzling out. “Trace on! Come on!”

“Uh, Ruby?” Yang asked. “Your scars… Are you alright? What are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Just working on a last-ditch plan,” Ruby explained shortly. “That _is being a total bitch right now_!”

Yang cringed. Iskandar understood her alarm, the younger girl had cursed before, but it was always sparingly and never so profane. Well, he had heard far worse, but the source was more shocking than the speech itself.

Ruby sighed. “Sorry. Yang, I’m alright. I know you don’t like Gilgamesh, for very good reason, but right now I need you to work with him. Can you do that? For me?”

“Wha—I—Yeah,” Yang finally said. “Anything you need, Ruby. But, do you have a plan?”

“I do,” Ruby assured her. “I’m going to trace Gilgamesh a projection of myself.”

Iskandar’s eyes shot wide open. “Trace yourself? You mean Ea? You plan to recreate the Sword of Rupture? Is that even possible?”

“Normally? No,” Ruby admitted. “Unlimited Bladeworks normally cannot trace divine constructs, much less me. But he told me there was one he could recreate. The one Kiritsugu used to save him from the fire, Avalon. It was inside him for ten years, which gave his Reality Marble enough time to completely analyze even the elements beyond mortal comprehension. I _am_ Ea. I can do this.”

Iskandar cocked an eyebrow. If it was really that simple, why hadn’t it worked yet?

“So, we’re going to give Gilgamesh a copy of the most powerful weapon in the world?” Yang inquired, sending the golden king a side glare. “You can dissipate it like your other projections, right?”

“Yeah sure,” Ruby said. “But I need you guys to go help the others. I don’t want anyone to die while I’m figuring this out.”

Yang looked like she wanted to say more, but in the end, closed her mouth and nodded. “We’re on it, don’t worry. You figure this out, and then we’ll figure out the rest.”

“Thanks,” Ruby responded, more green lines forming in the air. “I’m gonna figure this out, Yang.”

“I know. You always do.”

After that, Yang turned to Gilgamesh. “Hey, asshole! Can you give us a portal?

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes, but a golden gateway did materialize a few feet from them. The golden man plucked an intricately engraved spear from a nearby shelf and tossed it to Oscar, who fumbled a bit before he caught it. “You cannot go into this battle unarmed, boy.”

“Oh, right,” the farm boy said, finally taking something of a proper form with it, though his hands were farther up the shaft then they should have been. He was clearly still missing Ozpin’s cane. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Gilgamesh replied smoothly. “You have done me a great service reuniting with me with Ea, boy. I shall not forget it.”

Yang whirled on Oscar, though notably, her eyes were still purple. “You did what?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time!”

“You… you… ugh. You were probably right,” Yang admitted with a sigh. “Let’s just go. I need to hit something.”

The blond huntress activated her gauntlets, lit her eyes with maiden fire, and leapt into the portal. Oscar followed right after.

Iskandar paused before he went through, glancing back to Ruby, her eyes shut and her aura flaring crimson.

“Hesitation, King of Conquerors?” Gilgamesh teased.

“Never,” Iskandar said. He looked at the King of Heroes, their usual mirth absent from both their faces. “Is this going to work?”

Gilgamesh shrugged. “Time is not a single creak. Every choice, however minute, creates a crook, a stream branching off.”

“But you can see the entire river,” Iskandar stated, already concerned that the other man had tried to dodge the question at all. “Is this going to work?”

Gilgamesh frowned. He looked back at Ruby and then bowed his head in respect. “If it doesn’t, then I may require your assistance after all.”

Never had something Iskandar longed for so long filled him with such dread.

 

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****

“ **Excalibur!** ”

As the golden light shot off to cleave the black demon swarm above, Arturia wondered if her throat would have gone hoarse from all the shouting she had done if Avalon had not been healing her injuries. The scabbard was doing excellently to keep her alive, if it was removed from her for even a moment, she doubted Winter’s body would last a second, but it still required _prana_ , as did her sword.

But Jaune could only provide that _prana_ for so long. Especially when he was using a great deal for himself. Arturia heard her son and his allies struggle furiously against the tide of Grimm. She yearned to go to his side, to shield him, but if she faltered from her constant barrage against the aerial Grimm, it would just mean he would be getting swarmed by two armies.

However, even as she watched the forces of darkness crash down upon him, even as she panicked that she would lose two sons in one day, she found herself swelling with pride. Jaune fought with valor, his broadsword flashing through his enemies with relentless efficiency, Pyrrha’s technical efficiency mixed with Mordred indomitable savagery. And at the core, there was a simplicity, a groundedness alien to either of his teachers, an aspect that was solely him. He fought back to back with his friends, his allies, and even those who were once his enemies, his blade always dashing in to catch a strike that might have felled him, his comrade’s weapon covering him a moment later. Here in hell, her son showed himself a knight.

It was her job to make sure the son rose again for the world to see it. Though for the life of her, she didn’t know how. The demons in the sky had been slashed to barely a third of their original numbers by her continuous assault, but more were appearing on the horizon every minute, spawned by the other mud pits across the continent. As long as the Reality Marble existed, she had no way to stop this madness.

Her Instinct flared, danger flashing through her mind. She skirted to the side, a lanky Grimm claw thrusting right through where her head would have been had she not moved, the arm extended from a shadowy portal in the midair.

Even as she launched another blast of her Noble Phantasm into the sky, Arturia growled, eyeing the rivers of mud tossed about the area from the castle’s destruction. “Salem.”

The Queen of the Grimm rose from the mud, her grandmotherly smile firmly in place. “You seem troubled, King of Knights.”

“Not troubled,” Arturia denied, keeping up her skyward barrage. “You’ll be dead soon enough.”

Salem chuckled. “I will be dead? Slain by what Grail, I wonder. But, for argument’s sake, let’s assume you’re correct. What then? Do you believe the world will instantly become paradise? It wasn’t before I came along, even with you at its head. Your kingdom was the closest mankind ever had to utopia, but even at its height, Camelot was no Eden.”

Arturia grit her teeth to block out the demon’s words. “I am not so childish.”

“And yet, you now oppose change,” Salem said. “You oppose my venture to force humanity to take the next logical step in their evolution, the step that they are too hypocritically prideful to take on their own. You oppose my mission to make a world where no one cries, and for what? Stagnation? Devolution?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Arturia inquired, her sword still blazing. It was better to keep the Mother of Grimm talking that be forced to split her focus and power fighting her. “You talk quite a bit about mankind’s need to be in the right, but here you are moralizing with me.”

Salem frowned. “I am merely giving you the chance to once again join the correct side of history. Atlas’ army is gone. Mistral and Vale are both decimated. Vacuo is Vacuo. If by some miracle you do emerge triumphant in this war, the world you return to will be a desperate one, full of mewling children terrified that their walls and their armies can no longer protect them from the horrors of the world. And with me gone, the remaining Grimm will lack… my restraint.”

Arturia scowled. There was some merit to Salem’s logic. Most of the world did not know the Queen of the Grimm even existed and she was hardly behind every terrible thing that happened in the world. The Great War, the Faunus Wars, mankind had proven more than once that their greatest enemies would always be themselves. No matter what great evil huntsmen and huntresses vanquished, the thing they protected was not free of sin either. That fact, and her inability to change it, had once driven the King of Knights to despair, to claw for the Holy Grail, for a miracle, to get another chance at making a perfect world. And when she’d come to terms with her limits, she had instead fled to tend to her personal happiness, hidden away from a world she could see no joy in serving.

But no more. She loved her family and would always put them first, but she was wrong to hide away, to try to forget the world. She had powers, she had strength and skill and experience. She was the daughter of Uther Pendragon and the forger of the greatest kingdom the world had ever known. She was born to rule and whatever her mistakes on a personal level, she had been good at ruling. It had been her burden, but she had borne it as well as anyone could.

Mordred believed in her, believed that the world deserved the King of Knights. And so she would give Remnant all she could, bring as much good about as she could.

“You underestimate the will of humanity,” Arturia declared to the Mother of Grimm. “You are correct. At times, they do horrible things and then call themselves good. They are flawed, weak, and hypocritical. But they try, to do better, to live up to the lie they tell themselves. It is not perfect, but it has the potential to be better. They can be better, and they want to be.”

Salem raised an eyebrow. “Would you bet your children’s lives on the chance that this cesspit of a world _can_ be better?”

“I would bet them on the chance that _they will make it better_.”

The Queen of Darkness frowned. “They will. Rest assured; I will keep to our accord. Once I wipe every last huntsman here from the face of my world, there will be no one but the scraps of Ozpin’s circle to stand against me. My Grimm shall swarm over the defenseless kingdoms like the great flood of old, carrying my mud to purify all the worthy as they go. Your daughters will be queens of my new creation.”

Salem punctuated her last word by manifesting a quartet of black portals around the King of Knights, a mass of vicious Grimm claws shooting out of each of them.

Arturia’s eyes narrowed, the threat to her children invoking a primal rage of the proud lioness within her. Winds like razor wire erupted from her borrowed body, her Prana Burst tearing the limbs of darkness to shreds.

“Be gone, witch.”

The King of Knight flashed over to the Mother of Grimm, Excalibur shining with power and pulled back to strike.

The hateful crimson light within the witch’s eyes blazed like a bonfire, malice so powerful it encroached on reality permeating the air from Salem’s snarl.

“ **Verg Avesta**.”

Shadows immediately swarmed over the witch from beneath her gown, blackening her normally pale features. However, it did absolutely nothing to keep Arturia’s blade from slicing her in half.

The King of Knights frowned, confused why the apparent attempt at defense did not do more. Salem was more than aware of her capabilities; she would not come without protection she knew would be sufficient against Excali- Argh!

Arturia fell to one knee, her chest suddenly on fire, like Mordred’s blade had carved up her chest just it had at Camlann so long ago, agony rushing through half the nerves in her body. She looked down in abject horror at her chest, fully expecting to find it flooded in a sea of blood.

But… it was fine. There wasn’t a single scratch on her, Avalon ensured that. But the pain, the agony, why was it still—

“You know, that Noble Phantasm is far more useful when I don’t die with it.”

Arturia snarled as Salem’s new body rose from the mud river, the Queen of Darkness wincing as she gingerly rubbed the area Excalibur had slashed on her previous form, a substantial gash still present across her gown.

“What have you done?” the King of Knights growled.

Salem chuckled. “Verg Avesta is a wound-sharing primal curse, a Noble Phantasm that takes any damage dealt to me by any one attacker and reflects it onto that opponent’s soul. Normally it is not very useful, requiring the user to survive the initially inflicted wounds, but since I cannot die, that issue is null. And even Avalon cannot heal your soul. Or your brain.”

Another portal opened before the Queen of Grimm and a vicious shadow warped out of the gateway, streaking towards the King of Knights’ head, aiming to take advantage of her agony to destroy the one area her scabbard couldn’t heal.

Fortunately for Arturia, it was only the one place her scabbard couldn’t _heal_.

“ **Avalon!** ”

A ghostly projection of the king’s sheath appeared before her in all its majestic azure glory, the scabbard’s full power encasing its master in the tranquil domain of the fairies. The writhing mass of shadows struck the bounded field and shattered into dust, its pitiful malice unable to even begin to defy the absolute decree of the Eternal Isle. For no one and nothing could harm the promised king within her everdistant utopia.

The Mother of Grimm sighed. “The lonely king can only protect herself. And sometimes not even then.”

Arturia grinned at Salem like a hungry lion, rising to her feet with her sword ready to strike. “How desperate you must be, witch. There is only one existence you could have claimed a Noble Phantasm from. You must know your end is near if your terror surpasses your hatred for your old self.”

Surprisingly, and perhaps terrifyingly, Salem smirked, only a twitch of her eyebrow showing she registered the reference to Angra Mainyu. “It was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, but I suppose I can’t argue with the results.”

“What are you talking about?” Arturia demanded. “You cannot penetrate my defense. You cannot kill me.”

“I never needed to kill you, King of Knights. I just needed you to look away from the sky.”

Arturia’s eyes widened. She whirled around to the sky, Excalibur already shining with golden light, but it was too late. The swarm of aerial Grimm had seized their Queen’s distraction and descended upon Jaune’s group. If she unleashed her Noble Phantasm now, her son and his allies would be caught in the crossfire.

“You are correct. Avalon indeed is an utterly invincible defense,” Salem conceded. “But it does so by cutting you off completely from the world around you. You cannot move and you certainly cannot send something back through from the Reverse Side of the World. I knew if I pressed you, you would have no choice but to use it. I could not kill you, but I could put you in a position where they would die, no matter what choice you made.”

“No,” Arturia whispered, her legs bending to charge off. “No, I will save him. I will protect them.”

“Alone?” Salem mocked. “Come now, Arturia. When have you ever been able to save anyone _alone_?”

“Oh, do be quiet, mongrel.”

Both Arturia and Salem whirled around at the sound of that voice, only for a golden spear to tear through the latter’s skull before she even finished the turn. That did not keep Arturia’s eyes from widening as she beheld the new arriving, nor raising her sword towards him.

“Gilgamesh, what are you doing here?”

The King of Heroes smiled, his golden armor shining ever more brilliant within the bowels of hell. “King of Knights, it is good to see you purified, even if you bound to a… lesser form.”

Arturia scowled, her blade blazing with power. “I do not have time for your mockery, Gilgamesh.”

“I do not mock, Saber, I educate. And to answer your previous question…” Gilgamesh snapped his fingers.

The sky above Jaune’s group suddenly disappeared, replaced by a hundred rippling portals. Each gateway erupted with shining golden weaponry, swords, axes, spears, pikes, and clubs raining down and slaughtering swarms of Grimm with each strike, clearing hundreds of yards of land in mere moments. And yet, not a single shot struck a human being.

“I am here to save you all.”

 

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Diarmuid panted hard, the corpses of forty soldiers of the Athanaton decaying at his feet. Blake’s Command Seal was still empowering him, but with scores more of the black zombies still before him, he did not know how much longer he’d last. As strong as he was, as skilled as he was, a regiment of Servants was a formidable force.

But he could not falter. His master was counting on him. The King of Knights was counting on him. Even if it was the end of him, these monsters would not pass.

“Need a hand?”

Diarmuid turned at the sound of the voice, the King of Conquerors coming to his side from a golden portal, his spatha twirling in his hand.

Diarmuid smiled, but also raised a confused eyebrow. “Much appreciated, Rider. But, did you just come from—”

“Indeed,” Iskandar said. “Long story short, he’s on our side now.”

No sooner had the King of Conquerors finished speaking then a dozen more golden portals opened up before the two heroes. In a flash of gold, an arsenal of legend lashed out and tore the remnants of the Athanaton to shreds. A few moments later, there was nothing left of the black zombies but sludge.

“Huh,” Diarmuid remarked. “I must say, I vastly prefer him this way.”

 

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Jaune had never been more relieved, terrified, or utterly and completely confounded in his entire life.

“Ren?”

“Yes, Jaune.”

“Are those Gilgamesh’s portals that just saved us?”

“I do not know.”

“You don’t know?” Jaune asked incredulously. “Of course, they’re Gilgamesh’s portals, it’s obvious.”

“Well, how were we supposed to know that?” Nora pointed out from Ren’s back. “We’ve never even seen the guy, much less his portals.”

“You’ve never--- huh. I guess you guys never have seen him.”

“Indeed,” Ren said. “And why did you ask if you knew it was them?”

“Because they just saved us!” Jaune declared. “And that means that Gilgamesh saved us.”

“Temporary alliance.”

“Yang!” Blake cheered, rushing to engulf her newly arrived partner in a hug. “You’re okay!”

“You bet,” Yang replied, returning the hug. When she pulled out, she looked to Weiss, who was hanging back, looking down in shame.

“Yang,” the Schnee huntress muttered. “I am so, so sorry for everything that I—”

The blond didn’t let her finish and squashed her teammate into a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Weiss’ eyes widened in shock before she tightened her own hold on Yang, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Um, I don’t mean to intrude on the moment,” another familiar voice interjected. “But you’re not evil anymore, right? I just want to be sure—”

“Oscar!” Nora screamed, tumbling over Ren’s shoulders to squash the farmboy in an embrace. “You’re not dead!”

“Can’t breathe!”

“Nora, let him up,” Jaune commanded. “Actually, Ren?”

“On it,” his green-robed teammate said, pulling his girlfriend back to her feet, supporting her swaying form on his body.

Oscar coughed and rose to his feet, flashing everyone a nervous grin. Jaune smiled comfortingly at him and hugged his friend a little looser. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Thanks. Glad to be able to help.”

“Jaune!” Everyone turned to see Ilia dragging Vernal over to them, Ironwood and Sienna Khan close behind. The bandit wounds had only gotten worse in short time the fight had taken place in. While everyone else had been on their last legs against the Grimm when the Gate of Babylon had shown up, Vernal was the only one that had gone into the battle already having heavy injuries. Now, her eyes were closed and her entire lower half was coated in blood.

Ilia laid her on the ground. “You can heal her, right? That’s what your semblance does?”

“Among other things, but yeah,” Jaune said, kneeling down. His hands glowed white. “Give me a second.”

“Don’t.”

Ever huntsmen present whirled around, their weapons at the ready, even those not knowing the voice’s owner recognizing the weight it carried.

Gilgamesh strode out of a portal before everyone, Arturia, Diarmuid, and Iskandar right behind him.

Jaune glared at the King of Heroes, his sword held towards the man’s armored chest. It probably wouldn’t penetrate the mystical gold plate, but it made him feel better. “Why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“Because very soon, you will need every ounce of your aura you can get,” Gilgamesh told him.

The King of Heroes raised his hand, a small portal opening above his palm. It deposited a small clay bottle in his grip before disappearing.

Gilgamesh tossed the bottle to Oscar. “Tend to the mongrel this. My master would be displeased if anyone here died while her efforts were still ongoing.”

“Right,” Oscar replied, immediately pour the liquid contents of the bottle over Vernal’s wounds, the open gashes instantly beginning to close. “Her heart rate is stabilizing.”

Jaune maintained his glare towards Gilgamesh. “General, are there any more casualties?”

“Here? No, the attack was too short for anyone’s auras to go under,” Ironwood replied, thoroughly disregard the pile of scrap his right arm had been turned into in order to point his gun at Gilgamesh with his left. “At the other locations, who knows.”

Gilgamesh sighed. Another swarm of portals opened above them, a mass of soldiers in Atlesian armor falling through and landing haphazard piles on the ground, including some guys who painted their uniforms red and some other guys who’d painted them blue, for some reason.

“Church! Church! I told you it was magical!”

“Shut up, Caboose.”

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes. “That is all of them. Your men will be safer here. They won’t get caught in the final blast.”

“What final blast?” Jaune demanded. “And why are _you_ helping us?”

“Ruby’s his master now,” Yang explained.

“Ruby’s his what?!”

“Ea has agreed to attempt to create a copy of herself so that I may use it to annihilate this wretched place,” Gilgamesh finished.

“Attempt?” Yang said. “She’s going to. When Ruby says she’s going to do something, she does it.”

Gilgamesh frowned, though unlike the other times Jaune had seen him do it, this one did not seem contemptuous. More… wistful?

“I hope you are right,” the King of Heroes replied. Another portal materialized behind him. “The Gate of Babylon will keep the Grimm at bay until we return. If any of you give Ea cause to regret her efforts, I will kill you myself.”

The golden man turned through the gateway and disappeared.

“I think that’s his way of saying ‘don’t die’,” Oscar translated.

“Yeah, sure,” Jaune muttered.

He turned to face the hordes of Grimm bearing down on them, from land and sky. Just as promised, the bombardment of the Gate of Babylon was keeping the demons at bay, thousands upon thousands of weapons of legend shooting out to obliterate row after row of the army of hell. Even if he hated the guy’s guts, Jaune couldn’t deny it was an awe-inspiring sight.

But just like his mother’s Excalibur defense, it couldn’t last. The Grimmlands’ very nature made every shot of the portals more costly on Ruby and the hellbeasts’ ranks were already refilling and building from reinforcements arriving from across the continent. And whatever had happened to his first friend that had led to her contracting the man who’d killed her mother as her Servant, her aura wasn’t infinite, especially if she wasn’t using a solid chunk of it for this tracing effort. Which would lead to the bastard who tried to murder his entire family being put back at full strength. But with the Grail buried who knew where, they didn’t have much other option.

“Don’t die. Let’s try to do that.”


	91. Enuma Elish, The Dawn of a New World

“ _Trace on._ Trace on. Trace on! I am the bone of my sword! Argh!”

Ruby howled, the mass of scattered, crooked turquoise lines fizzing out before her. Her body shuddered with relief as the knives of her forge finally pulled back from her flesh, her latest effort just as useless as the last. She sank back into the massive pillow behind her, panting hard from exertion. Her mass of scars flickered to the rhythm of her strained breath, like the fading embers of a fire.

Why wasn’t it working? Archer could trace Avalon because it had been in him for years. She was Ea. She should be able to trace Ea. So why couldn’t she trace the damn thing!?

Every time she brought the memory of her former form to her mind, held the image of the black, red, and gold Sword of Rupture to the lenses of Limited Bladeworks, the forge would stall, the cracked and crippled gears grinding helplessly against one another, paralyzed. Ruby had tried dozens of times, poured more of her aura than was probably wise into the project, and still, she hadn’t been able to even conjure her old hilt.

“What am I doing wrong?” she whispered, running her process through her head. She didn’t think she’d missed any of the projection steps, but she supposed it was possible. She had been panicking after all.

A golden portal opened in front of her. Gilgamesh stepped into the small alcove of ordered shelves within the Gate of Babylon.

“Is everyone alright?” Ruby inquired.

“They are. The Grimm are no match for my treasury,” Gilgamesh declared. The stony frown on his face betrayed his concern. “However, your aura is limited. With that cursed Reality Marble still in effect, I will only be able to keep the necessary number open for a short time.”

“And every failed attempt just wastes more power,” Ruby bitterly observed. She sat up straight and cracked her neck. “Better finish it up now then.”

Gilgamesh said nothing, merely looking on with a stoic expression.

Ruby closed her eyes and put her hands over her knees, drawing up the power within her once more, feeling the knives of her Reality Marble stab under her flesh.

_Judging the concept of creation._

_Hypothesizing the basic structure._

_Duplicating the composition material._

_Imitating the skill of its making._

_Sympathizing with the experience of its growth._

_Reproducing the accumulated years._

_Excelling every manufacturing process._

" _Trace on_."

Her aura flared crimson, turquoise sparks shot into the air, slowly coalescing into green lines, bit by bit forming into a recognizable shape…

And then static erupted across her vision and the lines crumbled away to nothing.

“Arrgh!” Ruby roared, smacking her fists on the pillow behind her in frustration. “Why? Why isn’t it working? It worked for Archer, so why won’t it work for me?”

“Because you are not Archer,” Gilgamesh reluctantly stated. “His Reality Marble had ten years to analyze Saber’s scabbard and it needed every moment of that time. You may be Ea, but you have only had your forge for a few weeks, and it is but the crippled scraps of his. It has not had the time to analyze your essence.”

Ruby’s eyes locked onto her Servant. “You… you knew this would happen? You foresaw this?”

Gilgamesh nodded. “I did not want to influence your actions, to seem to manipulate you. And I have been mistaken quite a bit recently. I had hoped to be wrong again.”

“Really?” Ruby snorted. “If I die, more than likely, you get your sword back. Don’t tell me you don’t want that.”

The Chains of Heaven slinked between the two, the golden binds curling over Gilgamesh’s shoulders like a comforting blanket. He gently petted the shining links in response.

“These chains are the most wondrous treasure in my possession, the jewel of my most opulent crown,” Gilgamesh said. “And yet, I would give them up in an instant if I could have Enkidu back in their place. To have a chance to know you, to have a true equal once more, compared to that, even your power would be paltry consolation.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes. “And how many people died while you were letting me figure out my plan was pointless?”

“None,” Gilgamesh assured her. “Do really think I would put such a burden on your shoulders? I have ensured that no more have fallen than would have if you’d gone with your final plan from the beginning.”

“Well, I guess that’s something,” Ruby sighed. She leaned back into the pillow; her shoulders lax with exhaustion. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a new plan? Because I’m out of ideas.”

“No, you are not.”

“Um, yeah, I am. I’d know if I had another idea.”

Gilgamesh shook his head. “You do. You have known since before you attempted to create a fake of yourself. Perhaps, you have even known the tracing would not work, but tried anyway, praying that you were wrong.”

“No,” Ruby replied far too quickly. Her swift answer paused her mind, her eyes furrowing in thought.

If she couldn’t trace a copy of herself, then they were on a clock. Eventually, her aura would run out and with no way to kill Salem, everyone would be overwhelmed by the infinite numbers of the Grimmlands. They needed an Anti-World Noble Phantasm to wipe out the Queen of the Grimm, and they needed it now.

But… if she did it…

“I can’t control it,” Ruby confessed. She raised her right arm, the menagerie of glowing scars plain to see under her Command Seal. “I’ve barely been able to focus it in the past and the most I’ve ever gone is half power. My body is barely holding together as is. If I unleash everything, it will take out _everything_. Just like Beacon, only worse.”

“And with all your aura devoted to keeping your body together long enough to charge up to full power, I will not have the energy to evacuate everyone into my treasury,” Gilgamesh said.

“Yang, my team, Jaune, _you_ ,” Ruby listed. “I’ll kill Salem, but I’ll also destroy everyone I’ve ever cared about.”

“And you will die,” Gilgamesh stated bluntly. “Even if it were possible to conjure some defense to protect the others, your body would give out.”

Ruby glanced away, tears pricking in the sides of her eyes. “That’s not important. Saving everyone else is.”

Gilgamesh sighed. He crept over to his master’s side and sat right next to her on the pillow. “It is important to me. And I do believe to you as well.”

“I don’t have the right to let it.”

“You don’t have the right to live?”

“I don’t have the right to put my life before everyone else’s!” Ruby snapped. “My friends, my family, everyone who came with us to the Grimmlands and has fought Salem for millennia, they have sacrificed _so much_ for this moment.”

Gilgamesh tilted his head in agreement. “True, though, to my knowledge, most of those sacrifices were made in the heat of the moment. They did not have to walk towards death knowing it would be their end. Though, there are exceptions to even that. That girl from the tower for one.”

“Pyrrha,” Ruby whispered reverently, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“The girl had the foolishness of a conqueror,” Gilgamesh remarked. “To walk towards doom because who she was permitted nothing less. But I do not believe she wished to die.”

He turned towards her, a sympathetic shine to his scarlet eyes. “Do you?”

For a moment, Ruby said nothing. Her mind frozen, after all, what could she say? No lie would suffice, and the truth was too selfish. And she didn’t have the right to be selfish.

But there was nothing else.

“No,” she finally whimpered, tears flooding down from her silver eyes. “No. I’m sixteen years old, I don’t want to die. I don’t—there so much I can still do. So much I still want to do. I want to _live_ and _do it_!”

Her face fell into her hands as her crying intensified. “But—I don’t have that right! I’m not allowed to be selfish! Pyrrha, Uncle Qrow, Uncle Shirou, grandpa, Sun, mom, Raven, and everyone, they didn’t get to be selfish in the end! I have to do the right thing; I have to make sure they mattered! It doesn’t matter if it’s not fair! I have to—”

Her throat choked up, a once defiant promise now her death knell.

“I have to save everyone.”

She had to do what needed to be done. She had chosen to take this form to knock some sense into Gilgamesh and put an end to Salem. Now it was time to follow through.

She just wished she could protect the ones she had come to love in the process.

A firm, comforting hand clamped around her shoulder. Her tears paused as she looked up at her wielder.

“It is not a sin to fear death,” Gilgamesh assured her. “Even Enkidu raged against the unfairness of the world after that wretched goddess poisoned him. It is not very often that anyone gets what they deserve in this world. To despise that fact, to desire to have all your efforts have earned you, that is not weakness. It is merely human.”

Ruby snorted, her wet face breaking out into a chuckle. “My king, are you calling me a mongrel?”

“Of course not. No sibling of mine could ever be so base.”

“Yeah, of cour—wait,” Ruby’s face twisted in befuddlement. “ _What?_ ”

Gilgamesh shrugged. “I cannot call you friend without breaking my vow to Enkidu. So, I will call you family, just the slightest bit of what you deserve. I promise, I will ensure the rest comes in time.”

For a moment, Ruby could say nothing, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

“Th- Thank you,” she finally said, trying not to think about how awkward her family dinners were going to be. Well, if she was going to have any more family dinners after… the end. She and Yang were going to die in this hellhole and with no Grail to save him, their dad was going to follow soon—wait!

“The Grail,” Ruby whispered. “You have the Lesser Grail.”

Gilgamesh nodded. “I do. Somewhere in here.”

“Then maybe… no,” Ruby realized, sneering to her side. “Even if the others’ fight was short, which it wouldn’t be, it’d take too long to fully manifest. You’d run out of _prana_ and Salem would overrun us, and who knows, she might be able to figure out how to bypass the Greater Grail’s protection against her with a direct line like that. It’s too risky.”

“Not to mention a waste,” Gilgamesh noted. “The Grail should not be used for anything that can be done without it. Even something that can only be done with agony.”

Ruby sighed. With a heavy heart, she rose to her feet.

“Then I guess this is it,” she declared. “To save the world, I have to die and take everyone I love with me.”

Gilgamesh shrugged, rising to stand beside her. “Perhaps. But as I recall, you once provided Archer with an alternative answer to such a lonely fate.”

Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “You mean--”

“I promised you would get what you deserve,” Gilgamesh said. “It will take some time, and even then, it will likely not be entirely perfect, but you will get it, I swear. So, for now, save who you can. I will handle the rest.”

Despite everything rushing through her mind, Ruby couldn’t help but chuckle. One way or another, she was in for a heck of a ride.

 

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Jaune frowned as he overlooked the endless horde of Grimm. Just as promised, Gilgamesh’s portals continued to bombard the swarm of darkness, each gateway unleashing an arsenal that wiped out legions of black monsters. Nevermores, Ursa, Beowolves, Beringels, and Wyverns fell by the truckload against the barrage of golden wrath.

Even so, it wouldn’t last. The signs were subtle, but Ruby and Gilgamesh were running into the same problem that had plagued him, only worse with Ruby’s smaller reserves and the Grimmlands acting to reject the portals. They were running out of magical energy. Already the titanic mass of shining gateways had been reduced to barely over a hundred. They were strategically placed to still keep the Grimm at bay, but the other Heroic Spirits were eyeing the huntsmen’s lines for any holes.

Though, his mother’s glare was locked onto the figure at the head of the dark army. An elegant figure that the Gate of Babylon’s barrage seemed to consciously avoid. Probably because there was no point in blasting someone who could just revive from the mud.

Thus, Jaune saw Salem for the first time, the mythic Mother of Grimm and All the World’s Evils. Truthfully, for all the horror that he’d built up in his head about her, the bane of humanity, the demon that corrupted his mother and Weiss, the infection that had taken control of his sibling’s body to attack him… she was nothing like he was expecting. Sure, the elegant, dark queen was terrifying just looking at her, but he’d thought he’d be fighting someone with nine giant dragon heads that spat acid or a wolf person who could make them all fall to their knees in agony just by standing in her presence. Granted, with all the riving… whatever the thing under her black gown was doing, who knew if there was something more to his foe.

As if they needed anything else to deal with.

“Ruby’s just tracing Ea, right?” Jaune asked Yang. “What’s taking her so long?”

Yang’s eyes blazed with the orange glow of the maiden’s fire. Above them all, the black clouds of hell crackled with power, a cascade of lightning bolts crashing down and vaporizing a column of Grimm. The infinite well of the maiden’s magic meant Yang was the only one of them who didn’t have to be frugal with their power.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think she does either.”

“Unlimited Bladeworks can’t normally trace Divine Constructs in the first place,” Blake pointed out. “Who knows how much leeway Ruby being Ea buys her?”

“But it’ll work, right?” Weiss asked worriedly. “She can do it, right? She’s Ruby.”

“Of course, she can,” Yang insisted, firing off another lightning strike. “We just need to buy her the time to—Ruby!”

Jaune whirled his head to Yang’s shout, a grin sprouting across his face as another golden portal appeared in the center of their forces. As soon as Ruby and Gilgamesh exited the gateway, the master leaning heavily on the Servant, her team and his, plus Oscar rushed to her side.

“You’re here!” Nora cheered from atop Ren. “Did you do it? Do you have Ea? Where is it? Ooooo, is it invisible? That’s awesome.”

Ruby and Gilgamesh both frowned. And with that, Jaune’s heart sank.

“It didn’t work, did it?”

“What?” Yang exclaimed. “No, of course, it did. Right? Ruby?”

The silver-eyed huntress was silent. Wincing, she pulled herself away from Gilgamesh, barely managing a brave smile on her face, even as water welled in her already bloodshot eyes. Her scar covered hand rose to her shoulder and gingerly undid the clasp holding her red cloak together.

She folded her iconic garment in half and then pushed it into her sister’s arms.

Yang took hold of the crimson cloth before she even registered what happened, her violet eyes numbly blinking at her leader. “Ruby?”

“I love you,” Ruby declared, tears welling in her eyes but held back by her sheer will. “You are the best sister anyone could ever have and I love you so much. After this is over, I’ll have to go with my other sibling, but I need you to know how I feel.”

“Ruby, what are you talking about?” Yang said, disbelief written across her face. “Please, just tell me what you’re going to do. We can fix this, we can figure something out. We can… we can win this.”

“It’s not about winning,” Ruby replied. “It’s about responsibility. And I need to take mine.”

All of them stared at their leader, their faces frozen with incomprehension, only for the truth to sink in bit by bit for each of them. If Ruby could not trace Ea, there was only one way to unleash the power they needed to destroy Salem. And one by one, their eyes cracked with water.

The silver-eyed huntress turned to Weiss. “Thanks for coming back, partner. That day in the Emerald Forest. It was one of the best days of my life.”

Weiss’ lip quivered, tears gushing down her face. “Yeah, mine too. Ruby, I am so sorry—”

“Not your fault, Ice Queen,” Ruby teased. “None of this is. You were the best teammate I could have asked for.” She faced Blake and shot her a small smile. “You both were. But, I guess it wasn’t much of a fairy tale after all.”

“No. No, it wasn’t,” Blake sniffled, liquid breaking through the normally stoic girl’s amber eyes. “But you made it better.”

“But still no happily ever after,” Ruby remarked, managing a nervous chuckle. “Figures. At least you guys’ll get it.”

She turned to Ren and Nora. “Guys… stick together, okay?”

“To… to the ends of the world,” Nora choked.

Ren bowed his head, his gray tone body explaining his own stoicism. “It has been an honor.”

Ruby smiled. “That it has.”

Oscar came forward, barely holding back tears. “I am so sorry about the teleportation spell. If I hadn’t—”

“You and Gilgamesh would be dead, and we’d be even worse off,” Ruby interrupted. She tilted her head back towards her golden Servant. “Keep an eye on him for me, will you?”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “Me? Um… sure. But I don’t know what I’ll be able to do. I’m just a farmhand.”

“You’ve come all this way and done so much, and you still think you’re ‘just’ a farmhand?” Ruby noted, amused. She patted the boy on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

At last, Jaune saw Ruby turn to him, silver eyes meeting his blue.

His first friend, from Beacon to the bowels of hell. One of the few who’d believed in him when no one should have, when he hadn’t believed in himself. The light that had shined to show him the way, the warrior who had given him the strength to follow her. A huntress.

A hero.

 _His_ hero.

“Ruby… I…”

“I know,” she whispered. She reached up on her tippy toes, a soft kiss pressing into his cheek. “Sorry, Vomit Boy. I gotta go make one heck of a crater.”

She pulled away, just like Pyrrha at Beacon, minus the locker. She nodded to Gilgamesh. “Clear me a path.”

The King of Heroes snapped his fingers and the golden portals rearranged themselves, their majestic arsenal now focused on wiping out every demon between Ruby and Salem, creating a clear corridor to the pale woman. The other Servants moved to cover the new holes in the defense, but Jaune wasn’t sure it would matter for much longer.

The Queen of the Grimm’s black and red eyes widened. She ran towards the river of mud, only for a flash of silver to streak over the dark sludge and turn it to stone.

“No, Salem,” Ruby calmly proclaimed, the very fabric of reality quaking as silver light flooded out from her eyes. “This is your final hour.”

The air rippled with power, ancient forces that had sowed the seeds of creation churning out from the lithe huntress. The black ground split beneath her feet with every step she took, silver light surging forth and vaporizing any Grimm within a hundred yards of her. Even Salem’s pale skin cracked and burned under her unyielding gaze.

But Ruby herself was not immune to the forces she was unleashing. Her aura began to crackle scarlet, not broken but close to it, her scars flaring with light as her skin turned to ash from the inside out. Her walk remained constant, but an unbalanced sway was clear in her stride.

“Ruby no!” Yang screamed. She tried to charge after her sister, but Blake and Weiss dashed forward and held their teammate back. And when her struggles, spurned on by absolute sibling love, began to overwhelm their valiant efforts, Iskandar appeared at her back, clutching her waist tight. Her wailing eyes blazed with power, but no matter how much fire or wind crashed into her Servant, the King of Conquerors would not let her follow. “Let me go, Rider! Ruby, please don’t! There has to be another way! Please!”

“There isn’t,” Ruby whispered, her voice somehow carrying back to Jaune’s ears. Streams of tears finally poured down her face. “Gods, I wish there was… but there isn’t.”

Jaune, water flooding from his eyes, whirled on Gilgamesh. “You! What did you do? What did you say to her?”

“Nothing that didn’t need to be said,” Gilgamesh simply remarked.

“You bastard!” Jaune stomped up to the golden prick, grasping for the folds of his armor, only for Oscar to hold him back from doing something that in hindsight would have gotten him killed. “She can’t control it! If she unleashes everything, she’ll die!”

“We’ll all die,” Gilgamesh shrugged. “What are you going to do about it, boy?”

“I’ll tear you— what?”

“She is going to die,” Gilgamesh repeated, looking utterly miserable about that fact. “And if nothing stands between her and us, everyone she loves will die with her. Are you going to let that happen?”

“What?” Jaune stuttered. “You can evacuate everyone.”

“Not if she is to have enough energy to charge up. Though, I can manage to hide a few of you fools in my treasury. Is that what you wish, mongrel? To hide like a craven coward? Or will you stand, as she does, at the edge of eternity, with greatness at your fingertips?”

Jaune glanced about their foothold. White Fangs, Atlas grunts, there were scores of them, and Gilgamesh’s portals were closing more and more by the second. The masters and Servants could escape into the Gate of Babylon, but the grunts, the common soldiers, the ones who’d gone into this hellhole on their word and had been willing to risk everything on it, they would die. He didn’t know their names, but they would die.

If he let them.

“The sword is strongest as a shield.”

Gilgamesh nodded. “Show me.”

Jaune turned to Oscar, who promptly released him. The blond huntsman then dashed down the small hill to the border of the group, right where Ruby had left from.

“Jaune!” Arturia called. “What are you doing?”

In truth, he didn’t completely know. The edges of Ruby’s silver light were rippling just before him, his muscles straining not to be torn apart by her mere presence. If he stayed there for much longer without protection, he would die.

But now, it was his turn to be the protection.

His body moved with an instinct he couldn’t completely comprehend, a strength deeper than fate and mightier than destiny. A force of legend raised his sword before him.

“ **Hammer of the Wind King. Red Thunder!** ”

His twin skills spawned to life, an enormous typhoon of wind encircling the troop of huntsmen, crimson lightning sparking along to reinforce the rushing gale.

“Jaune, stop!” his mother yelled, terrified. “That won’t hold!”

She was right, of course. What he had were the skills of a Heroic Spirit, but that was nothing compared to a true Noble Phantasm, forged by the fires of history, especially the most powerful of them all. Already, his defense buckled under the mere scraps of power from Ruby’s blast.

But he could not back down. His eyes locked upon Crocea Mors, his family’s sword, the blade inlaid with the armor of his fallen partner. He stood upon the backs of others, his teachers, his friends, his family, and he would not dishonor what they fought for. All that history, those tales of triumph and catastrophe and loss, it had all led up to him. With all the skills he’d acquired, the fire was fully fed. And as Mordred had told him back in Mistral, now it just needed a spark. A bit of will, and a whole lot of magic.

He had the former in spades, and as his semblance flared and the final Command Seal on his hand faded from existence, he had the latter as well.

His broadsword ignited with a shining golden light, magecraft approaching True Magic seeping through its steel. The typhoon protecting him and his allies accelerated, the electric gale surging with power.

Jaune’s teeth clenched, sweat pouring down his forehead as he desperately attempted to hold back the world shearing force smashing against his shield. He glanced up at the roaring wind, silently praying that it would hold, that his efforts would not be in vain, that he could defend those dear to him. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. The Command Seal had lit the fire, but it was spent. He didn’t have the energy to keep his power going, to make it strong enough to withstand Ruby’s assault.

A firm hand clasped on his shoulder. He glanced back and saw Yang, rivers of tears still staining her eyes. But those eyes still blazed with the maiden’s fire, with near-infinite magic.

The two of them shared a nod of understanding, of connection, of mourning, and his semblance went to work. Her aura crackled and collapsed as it was absorbed into his, the maiden’s power following the soul of its master. It would never kneel to him, but it could lend its limitless strength to his defense.

His sword erupted with a brilliant glow. Three ghostly images rose from the steel, Jaune’s eyes widening as he beheld each of them.

His mother, living behind him, but before him in her true form, stern, regal, and stalwart in shining armor. The King of Knights.

Mordred, bedecked in crimson and gray steel, lightning sparking around her as a cocky smirk lit up her face. The Knight of Rebellion.

And finally, wearing bronze plate and her scarlet hair flowing behind, his first teacher, his partner. Pyrrha gazed back at him, her sparkling emerald eyes bordering a kind, radiant smile, the cool scent of those many nights on the rooftops filling the air.

The words flooded his head, the understanding as his legend crystalized before him. He wasn’t as powerful as his mother, as savage as Mordred, or as skilled as Pyrrha. But they had all entrusted their strength and their wills to his stewardship.

Archer had once told him there was no shame in standing on the legends of others, so long as he honored their ideals, but he had gone one step even further beyond that. He had taken their gifts, their shards of power, and forged them together with himself, their reality imprinting his truth and his will upon the sword his family had wielded for centuries.

His sword, strongest as a shield. A shield for his friends.

His heroes.

His Noble Phantasm.

“ **Pyrrhic Crocea Mors!** ”

The True Name rang throughout hell like a bell of heaven, the wind singing with glory, infinite magic surging through the gale to erect the greatest barrier ever built by the hands of men. The typhoon stood fast, not a hint of silver passing its wall.

Whether it would hold out once Ruby reached full power, he didn’t know. But he’d done all he could, and it would shield his friends in the meantime. They would not fall because he would not fall. And he would always be there to shield them until the very end.

 

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Ruby grinned, glancing back as Jaune’s wall of wind surrounded their allies. Her silver light buffeted it for a few moments, before a golden shine lit up from within, the tornado suddenly holding straighter, steadier, almost as if it were made out of pure magical energy. In a way, it was a defensive counterpoint to Excalibur. Not Avalon by any stretch, but with all the _prana_ she could feel rushing through it, she’d put it above almost any other defensive mystery she’d ever seen.

Whether it would hold out against her full power, who knew?

But it didn’t change what needed to be done.

She turned back to Salem, the ancient blaze erupting from her eyes and annihilating every Grimm in her path, only their Queen able to remain in her presence, likely the Reality Marble’s doing. Even still, All the World’s Evils fell to her knees before her.

The power was no easier on its wielder, however. Ruby’s ravaged body felt like it was on fire, all her aura and magic flooding out of her scarred form. If using Limited Bladeworks felt like being stabbed with a thousand daggers, unleashing Ea’s full strength was like pouring molten iron through her veins. But she could not move backward, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, to just take a few more steps. Just a few more steps and it would be over.

“No,” Salem whimpered, her voice cracking with despair. “Why? Why would you stand against me? When we can help them, when we can make them better?”

“You can’t make people ‘better’,” Ruby said. “Only they can choose to be better.”

“You think they will _choose_?!” Salem cried, tears stained with darkness trickling down her pale face. “All they do is blame! And excuse! And _lie_! The only help they want is someone to call monster! That’s what they want! That’s what they wanted me to be! What else was I supposed to do? Let them _suffer_?!”

It was a strange sight, seeing an eldritch abomination borne of All the World’s Evils sobbing in despair. Despite all she knew the demon before her had done, all that her sins had wrought, turning the world into the broken Remnant it was, Ruby couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity for her. Just as Shirou was a sword and Kirei was a monster, Salem, through no choice or conscious decision of her own, was evil. She was the evil men had forged so that they could be heroes.

But where Kirei had given up, resigned himself to monstrosity, when Salem was given the chance to choose, she chose to try to be better. Her efforts were warped by her hatred, twisted by the unending well of darkness sewn into her very being by legend itself, but she had chosen to try to evolve humanity instead of wiping them out. There may have been little distinction to those she would have altered, but Ruby had forged creation itself from trillions of seemingly identical bits of dust. To her, little distinctions were crucial.

But it didn’t change what needed to be done.

She corrupted Weiss and Arturia. She killed Uncle Qrow. She killed Sun. She killed Ozpin. She’d killed more than could be counted over an eon of darkness. They would not forgive her, they had no reason to, and therefore Ruby could not absolve her. She could only grant her oblivion.

“Like I said, this is your final hour,” she repeated.

CHI-CHUN!

All along her body, her scars split open, silver light erupting from her soul, her clothes burnt to ash by the light of creation’s star, her flesh torn apart under that. Reality quaked under her body, gargantuan canyons craving themselves into the black ground. The dark clouds were blown away from the churning will of genesis, the sky flickering between hellish crimson and natural blue.

Salem screeched in agony, her pale skin boiled and scorched before the titanic power she challenged.

“No!” she wailed. “No! There will be no victory in strength!”

“Correct,” Ruby concurred, recalling what Gilgamesh had said would happen next. “For me, or you.”

“EEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Despite everything, despite her bones boiling inside her muscles, despite her brain-melting to mush, she couldn’t help but smirk at the demon’s defiant cry. It was a decidedly human response, from both of them. Oh, how she wished she could live, see this life that she’d been granted through to the very end, instead of cut short at a mere sixteen years. But not everybody got more than that. Her friends certainly hadn’t wanted to fall so soon.

It didn’t change what needed to be done.

Red and black wind burst out of her form, joining the aurora of silver light blazing out from her as the full power of the Sword of Rupture was brought to bear, every Grimm within a hundred miles burning to ash. Jaune’s tornado buckled under the strain. She could only hope it was strong enough to handle the rest.

“ **Enuma Elis** —”

Salem thrust out her hands to either side, a single burst of dark _prana_ shooting through existence. And suddenly, the Mother of Grimm was gone.

But she had not gone alone. The sky was no longer a hellish crimson, the clouds no longer the bleakest black. No, the firmament was that of earth, not of hell, the purest shining blue. The land, while still littered with giant purple dust crystals, was no longer filled with black dirt, not a river of mud in sight.

Ruby growled, understanding immediately what had happened. Salem had deactivated her Reality Marble, returning dominance of the entire continent to the world. And when one left their inner world, they were able to choose at which location they returned to creation, provided it was within the area the mystery had originally taken into itself.

The good news? That meant she was killable. The bad news? It meant she’d teleported herself to the other side of the continent, out of range of Ruby’s attack, while her friends were still very much in harm’s way.

The huntress shut her eyes, clamping down on her power before the Star of Creation could burst forth and destroy all she held dear. She felt every atom of her already ravaged body crumble to dust, but she kept her full strength from erupting, from tearing through Jaune’s wavering defense and incinerating everyone she loved.

Ruby Rose saved everyone she could. And as her body faded out of existence, her modification of Summer’s semblance finally expiring and her conscience returning to the form of the blade older than the very concept of a sword, she saw the silver light fade. The cocoon of wind shielding her friends fell away, revealing all of them, unharmed, Yang and Jaune at their head.

She didn’t have a mouth anymore, but she felt like smiling, even as she sank into the golden portal that appeared beneath her.

Ruby Rose had saved everyone she could. Now it was time for Ea to handle the rest.

 

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When the tornado finally fell, Yang felt like she was going to hurl. Her aura was completely depleted, her muscles were on fire, and she was pretty sure she could feel a trickle of blood dribbling down from the corner of her mouth. The maiden power may have been infinite, but she could only push so much of it through her body at once. And Jaune had needed every bit of it he could get to keep the shield from crumbling from Ea’s power. She’d nearly been burnt to a crisp by her own magic.

Still, she was better off then Jaune himself. As soon as he shut down his Noble Phantasm (however he’d gotten _that_ ), his arms had immediately fallen to his sides, his sword clunking to the ground and his body tipping over to follow it. His mother and, of all people, Gilgamesh, appeared to catch him, with the former quickly pulling him away from the latter and into her arms.

“Jaune? Jaune!” Arturia shouted fearfully.

“Uhh,” the boy groaned, his eyes blurry. “Are we alive?”

“Indeed, we are,” Gilgamesh confirmed. His scarlet eyes glanced over Jaune, a twinkle within them that might have been something approaching respect. “A beautiful display, Shield of Heroes.”

Jaune’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say? Now I know we’re dead.”

“Don’t joke. You just channeled a tremendous amount of energy,” Arturia ordered concernedly. Still, a proud smile crossed her face. “It was incredible.”

Somehow, Jaune managed a grin. “Thanks, mom.”

Gilgamesh frowned and walked away from the pair, exchanging a short nod with Iskandar.

The rest of the party came forward, everyone’s eyes glancing about, silent with wonder. After all, the visages of hell that had haunted them since they’d come to the continent had disappeared, replaced by a rocky desert and a clear blue sky. The only hill in sight was the small fraction of castle rubble that had been within Jaune’s tornado.

“Is… Is that it?” Ironwood whispered, the faintest trace of hope within the general’s voice. “Is it over?”

“You see any Grimm, James?” Sienna asked with a relieved grin. “The girl did it! We won!”

As soon as the words left the tiger faunus’ mouth, a great cheer went up among the rank and file. Whether Atlas or White Fang, human or faunus, every last one of them yelled for joy. They had done the impossible. They had dealt a fatal blow to their ancient enemies, crippled the creatures of Grimm forever. Maybe later they would pause and reflect, mourn friends and comrades lost in the final great campaign, but now? Now, they had been handed a miracle, and by all the gods that had ever been said to exist, they were going to celebrate.

Yang did no such thing, her eyes locked on the wasteland before her, clutching the red cloak in her arms, praying that she’d see her own miracle arise any second, that her baby sister would appear out of nowhere, alive and well, that joyous smile that only Ruby could make shining across her face.

But that did not happen. The wind blew, a shrill sound ringing across the desert, but only dust came in its wake.

Yang collapsed to her knees, her face frozen in shock, her bloodshot eyes unable to produce any new tears to stain her already wet cheeks.

Weiss, Blake, Ren, Nora, and Lancer came forward from the crowd. Ren and Nora ran over to surround Jaune, while Diarmuid just stared blankly out at the desert. Weiss’ hands shot up to cover her face, her legs giving out underneath her as she burst into tears. Blake dashed over to Yang and engulfed her in a hug, silently lending her whatever strength she could.

“It should have been me,” the blond muttered brokenly. “I should have told her sooner. I should have killed Kirei in the Vault when I had the chance. I should have… I should have… I should have—”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Blake whispered. “You did everything you could.”

Yang barely even heard her. Maybe Blake was talking sense, but to the blond brawler, it was all her worst fears since Summer hadn’t come home come to life. Ruby was dead. Uncle Qrow was dead. Her father would be dead before long. Even Raven, who she’d searched for so long, was gone forever.

Her family was gone. She was alone. And right or wrong, all she could think was that, somehow, it was all her fault.

Perhaps if the despair wasn’t drowning her, she would have wondered where her Servant had gone.

 

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_She’d survived._

_It had cost everything, but she’d survived._

_Whatever black organ that constituted her heart pounded relentless, still unable to believe she’d actually made it, even with the sea crashing against the rocks before her, her darkness no longer holding sway over the sky. Her skin was slowly healing to its unnatural pale shade, the wounds barely able to restore themselves without her Reality Marble supporting her. She’d seen the Sword of Rupture unleashed before in both the previous wars but never… never so close. Its power… to call it primordial would be an insult. An item that had seen the truth of the world before genesis, that had cleaved heaven from earth… and she had survived it. She had outmaneuvered the ultimate weapon, triumphed in the face of the impossible obstacle!_

_She had to move quickly, maintain her advantage. It would take a few moments to reestablish her domain, and it would be smaller than before, but once she was invincible once more and her army replenished, she could—_

“ **Ionian Hetairoi!** ”

_The sea before her disappeared in the blink of an eye, replaced by an endless desert, the sands stretching farther than she could ever dream. The army arrayed before her was even larger, each and every soldier, from every race, creed, and walk of life. And with only one exception, they all glared down upon her._

_At the army’s head, stood the King of Conquerors, Waver Velvet and Hazel at his sides. The redheaded oaf and his former partner looked at her with fury in their gaze, but her old friend just looked sad, pitying. He was always generous like that._

_The Queen of the Grimm barred her fangs. They thought this pitiful force could stand against her? It may have been the greatest army humans ever raised, but killing humans was her specialty. And this barren world did not have the same defenses as her own. She’d summon her domain within it, regain her immortality, and then show these fools what conquest really… looked… like…_

_He strode from the ranks, the soldiers all parting aside to let him pass, perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of a healthy fear. He had killed them all before._

_And the weapon he’d used to do it was already in his hand._

_It was at that moment that she finally sank to her knees, her mind blank with despair. She was trapped. She was about to die. All her efforts, all her striving, all that time spent just trying to_ help _… It was all for nothing._

_Now she knew how Ozpin had felt._

_Gilgamesh marched in front of even the King of Conquerors, Ea in his grip, his scowl dripping with utter fury. Yet, his words were oddly composed._

_“I gave you leave to exist once. That leave still stands. All the World’s Evils is but a fraction of the weight of the world and bearing that is a duty of the king,” he declared, the venom beneath his voice betraying where his speech was going. “However, to exist is also to be subject to the King’s law, no matter your suffering. You have stained this beautiful world, tainted my treasures, and slain my kin! These sins are yours, you wretched cur, no one else. Now burn for them.”_

_Ea’s cylinders began to turn, red and black wind surging out of the Sword of Rupture. It coiled and rived, sending ripples across the Reality Marble and whipping the desert into a frenzy. At last, the energy coiled at Gilgamesh’s side, taking the general shape of a featureless small girl, her face completely blank and her hand grasping the golden hilt just below the King of Heroes’ hand. The areas of her head that should have held eyes cracked open, miniature suns of silver light shining across the sands._

_Ruby Rose and Gilgamesh raised the sword before swords and together pronounced her sentence._

_“_ **_Enuma Elish!_ ** _”_

_Silver wind and light erupted from the spinning cylinders, the armageddon that forged creation spilling forth across the desert. The sand burnt to glass, the sky cracked into shards of broken space, and all around the land, there was a great cry as the world fell to genesis anew. There was nowhere to run. There was nowhere to hide. There was no way to stop it._

_And so, Salem closed her eyes and felt the end come._

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**Back here? I suppose it’s fitting.**

_Yup._

**You’re wrong about them. No matter what vows or virtues they possess, they will ultimately do whatever they need to in order to get what they want. They are evil, whether they want to admit it or not.**

_Perhaps. But they want to be better. And they try. They may stumble, they may fall. They do terrible things in the name of a just cause. But I think, in the end, they’ll do the right thing, no matter how much it hurts. And if they’re willing to walk back after they’ve lost their way, maybe they’ll find something better. Forgiveness._

**Forgiveness? Ridiculous.**

_To some people perhaps. And there is nothing wrong with that, though it will help no one in the end. But as for me, for what I can, I forgive you._

**… He was right about you. You truly are a simple soul. To trust in them, with all their flaws, with all their failings.**

_They’re only human. So were you, once upon a time. And now, so was I. And I’ve got to say… it was awesome._

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Arturia raised an eyebrow when Gilgamesh and Iskandar returned, the both of them walking out of a golden portal, the humans and faunus around them still cheering wildly. She set Jaune down with Ren and Nora and walked over to the pair, a hand on Excalibur and Diarmuid at her side.

“Where did you two go?” she asked.

“Nowhere of consequence,” Iskandar replied.

Diarmuid cocked an eyebrow. “Then why would you leave at all when your master is in tears?”

Iskandar glanced over at Yang, still in Blake’s arms, a mournful expression on his face.

“Let us not mince words,” Gilgamesh intervened. “All four of us know what has just occurred. And the rest of this world will know the truth of it.”

Arturia’s eyes narrowed, already having guessed where the two had gone, the power still leaking off of them confirmed they’d just used quite potent Noble Phantasms. “And what is ‘the truth of it’?”

“That Ruby Rose saved the world,” Gilgamesh declared.

The King of Knights glared at the golden man for several seconds, but in the end, she nodded her assent, Diarmuid agreeing soon after. Gilgamesh was an arrogant braggart, claiming credit for any act he believed himself even slightly responsible for. If he wanted the record of the battle to exclude his infuriatingly crucial contributions, he must have had some good reason. Of course, given he was him, who knew what that reason was.

For all that, she still clutched her blade tight. Despite their recent alliance, she had no illusions about the situation she was in. The greater threat was dealt with, and though she trusted Diarmuid and Iskandar, she was still in the presence of three enemy Servants.

And she had not forgotten all the King of Heroes had done. He may have assisted them, but he had still tried to murder her family, her _children_ , for the pettiest of reasons. And with Ruby no longer able to control him, who knew what he was planning.

He shut his eyes for a moment, his head turning off in a seemingly random direction, though Arturia recognized that it was where Salem’s castle had once stood.

“So, it survived. And without that witch interfering…”

Gilgamesh conjured a golden portal and disappeared into his storehouse. A moment later, he reappeared atop the hill of rubble.

“What are you doing, King of Heroes?” Iskandar inquired, all the eyes turning towards the golden man.

The answer was supplied when a giant portal opened behind the golden man. And tumbling out, sliding down to the base of the hill, was a familiar orb of light and power, its aura of pure _possibility_ permeating the air.

The cheering immediately went silent, every human, faunus, and Servant turning their eyes to the Greater Grail.

Another portal materialized next to Gilgamesh, the burnt-out husk of Cinder Fall dropping at his feet. The moment it touched the ground, both the body and the Greater Grail blazed with shining magic.

“Nothing of great import, King of Conquerors,” Gilgamesh said. “But if you so wish, I believe it’s about time you all finished this little game.”


	92. They May Stumble, They May Fall

Yang’s tear-stained eyes widened as the glow faded from around the Greater Grail and Cinder’s body, the corpse replaced by a magnificent golden chalice, splendid even in Gilgamesh’s hands. Or maybe that was just because of the smoke rising from his grasping palm.

The King of Heroes scowled. “It seems the cup is still not fond of the witch’s influence. At least it has taste on that account.”

“Aw, that mean you’re not going to be competing, goldie?” Iskandar pouted.

“None who have been tainted by that wretch can,” Gilgamesh explained. “And in any case, I have neither a master, nor a desire to claim it. The chalice should only be used for what cannot be done without it, and there is nothing it can do for me that I cannot handle by my own means.”

“Hohoho, is that arrogance, King of Heroes?”

“Merely confidence. I am well aware of what I am capable of.”

“Wonderful,” Iskandar grinned. “Perhaps when this is all over, we can have another go at each other.”

“You presume a great deal, King of Conquerors,” Arturia said.

“Indeed,” Diarmuid echoed, hefting his spears. “I swore upon my late master’s grave to see that his dream became a reality. It has been an honor and a pleasure to fight beside you, Rider, but I cannot allow you to claim the Grail.”

“Wait!” Nora shouted. She tried to step forward but instead found herself stumbling, only Ren’s comforting grasp keeping her from hitting the ground. “We won. It’s over. You guys don’t need to fight anymore.”

“No, it’s not,” Jaune declared, staggering up to his feet, leaning heavily on his sword. “Salem was incidental. The Grail summoned them to fight, and that’s what they’re here for.”

“Indeed,” Arturia nodded, moving to her son’s side and helping him stand. “We all have a desire that requires a miracle.”

“Enough to kill each other for it?” Nora demanded. “After everything you’ve all been through, aren’t you friends?”

“Of course we are!” Iskandar cheered. “But that does not change the fact that we are foes. Hell, it makes the battle even more exciting, knowing that the opponents are worthy. Though, if you two have decided to reconsider my offer—”

“We’re not joining your army!” Arturia and Diarmuid shouted as one.

“Awwww.”

Gilgamesh smirked, steam still curling from the Lesser Grail in his grip. “The Grail has taken care to avoid allowing any of Salem’s taint within it. Any Servant that was fully corrupted into an Alter had their _prana_ dispersed before it could enter the Greater Grail. Which means…”

“It only has five Servants worth of power,” Oscar finished, his eyes widening. “It still needs one more to get to full power.”

“Near full power,” Gilgamesh corrected. “It won’t be able to open a path to the Root without all seven, but it can handle most anything else otherwise. Cyborg, faunus, you’ll want to move your forces back. A battle between Heroic Spirits rarely leaves the surrounding area unscathed.”

Ironwood gulped. “Men, fall back! We’ve got to give them space.”

“You all, do the same!” Sienna Khan commanded.

The troops must have seen enough of Arturia’s rapid-fire Excalibur to know just how screwed they’d be if they stayed, because every armored Atlas soldier and masked White Fang goon immediately fled, Gilgamesh opening portals to allow them to get further away. After most of them had left, Ironwood turned to the others. “The rest of you should come too.”

Yang shook her head. “I’m the big guy’s master. Win or lose, I’m not abandoning him.”

They had to win the Grail. She had to get the wish. With Salem dealt with, Iskandar would still use his own for incarnation, but she could use hers to bring back Ruby. She didn’t need to reverse time or endanger anyone, her little sister’s spirit was still attached to Gilgamesh’s Ea, which was still on their plane of existence. She just needed to give her a body.

But… that meant that her dad would die. The Grail was the only thing that could repair his aura. If she brought back Ruby, then she was condemning him to die. But… wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t dad gladly sacrifice his life to save Ruby?

… Just like Raven had said he’d gladly sacrifice his life to save Summer.

Oh gods, had she become her mother? Was she allowing her guilt over her failure to let her sacrifice everyone else? Despite her new understanding of Raven, she most certainly did not want to make her mistakes. But, did that mean letting her father die, or letting her sister stay dead? Was she a failure either way?

And what about the others? Her and Iskandar winning would mean them losing. Arturia and Diarmuid would return to the Throne of Heroes, their own noble wishes unrealized. All of Blake and Jaune’s striving would go without reward, their quests for their people and their family pointless. After all, Jaune had completely depleted his aura with his Noble Phantasm and though she’d done the same to power it, she also still had the maiden’s magic to let Iskandar use his Noble Phantasm as many times as he wanted. Plus, she still had two Command Seals to Blake’s one and Jaune’s none. As they were, Ionian Hetairoi would annihilate them.

Jaune nodded to Ironwood. “Same. I came this far to save my mom. I’m not running away now.”

“Well if Jaune’s staying, then so are we!” Nora proclaimed. “Team JNPR sticks together! Right, Ren?”

The pink-eyed boy grinned. “He’s our leader.”

Ironwood nodded. “Very well.” He glanced to Arturia and frowned. “Please, I understand the nature of war but, please do your best to bring my subordinate back in one piece.”

Arturia’s face fell. “I will do my best but only her body is intact. Her soul, it still exists within here, but it has been torn to shreds by my presence. The Winter you knew is forever gone.”

The general bowed his head, a single tear dripping down his stoic face. “I see. Thank you for letting me know.”

He picked his head up. “Oscar, right? Come on. That Vernal girl is going to need a medic.”

“Right.” The farm boy picked up the still unconscious, but no longer bloody, bandit in his arms, reinforcement shooting through his body. He looked sadly over the others. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“You did all you could,” Weiss whimpered, struggling to her feet. “That’s… that’s all that can be asked of us.”

Oscar nodded and leapt through the golden portal.

“Wise words,” Sienna Khan echoed, her eyes staring straight at Blake, Ilia slinking off to the side, out of Yang’s line of sight.

“Ms. Schnee,” Ironwood said, “Are you coming?”

Weiss shook her head, shakily walking to Blake and Yang. “I’ve been away from my team too long.”

Yang and Blake both managed to shoot her small smiles.

Ironwood opened his mouth to argue before sighing. He stepped away from the portal. “I guess that means I’m staying too. Better death by Servant crossfire than whatever Crystal will do to me if I leave you.”

“If you’re staying, then so am I,” Sienna declared.

“What? Don’t trust me, Sienna?”

“No.”

“Then that makes two of us.”

“Good,” Sienna said. “I’ve quite liked working with you, James. I’d hate to have to sully the memory if you proved yourself incompetent at the end.”

“Agreed, but let’s leave everything to the Servants to—Yang, look out!”

Yang barely had time to cock an eyebrow in confusion before Blake yanked her aside, an electric whip crackling through where her head had been a second earlier.

“Ilia, what the hell are you doing?!” Blake roared at the chameleon faunus who’d attacked Yang from behind. She drew her sword and stepped protectively in front of her partner, Weiss coming up from behind to support the sagging Yang’s left side.

The lax atmosphere that had previously enveloped the desert of wreckage evaporated instantly. Iskandar’s smile disappeared and he rushed for Ilia, but Diarmuid blocked his path in a flash, his twin spears at the ready, though he frowned towards Ilia. Arturia, Ren, and Nora took up defensive positions around Jaune, while Ironwood and Sienna dropped into fighting stances aimed at each other.

The golden portals all closed shut. Gilgamesh sighed. “And so, the board is set.”

Yang grit her teeth, maiden fire flaring in her eyes. She might have not known what she should do about the Grail yet, maybe she never would. But she certainly wasn’t about to let herself get killed for it.

 

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Blake’s mind was at war with itself, buckets of sweat dripping down her forehead.

She’d barely seen Ilia’s whip coming, the vibrant yellow cord lashing out at the back of Yang’s neck. She acted instantly, tugging her partner out of the weapon’s path and then entrusting her to Weiss’ care as she drew Gambol Shroud.

She’d saved her teammate, her friend.

An _enemy_ master.

An enemy master who was supplying energy to someone who was going to try to _kill Lancer_.

No! She had to… she had to… She would not kill her friends!

“Ilia, what the hell are you doing?” Blake shouted, her breath strained and light.

“What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?” the chameleon faunus yelled back. “I had her! We could have won! Lancer could have won!”

“You nearly killed her, you crazy bitch!” Weiss screeched.

“I don’t need a Schnee to lecture me about killing,” Ilia shot back.

Weiss’ face immediately fell, her recent memories likely still plaguing her.

“Lay off her!” Yang shouted, though her attempt to charge forward with maiden fire ablaze only led to her stumbling, Weiss having to catch her. “You wanna go? I’ll take you on!”

“No!” Blake shouted, holding out her hand to stop Yang from charging. “Both of you, stop it!”

“Indeed,” Iskandar murmured. “This is a battle of Servants, little girl. Such unsavory tactics are unnecessary.”

“Says the guy with an army at his beck and call!” Ilia shouted.

Diarmuid frowned. “My lady…”

Ilia’s face immediately became loving the moment the words left his mouth. “I promised I would help you, Lancer. And I will. We’re going to see your dream through to the end.”

Yes… yes, it was Lancer’s dream. Adam’s dream was Lancer’s dream, what Diarmuid would give anything and everything to bring about. And if someone as wonderful as Lancer would…

_Fucking curse!_

Blake whipped out the Contender and pointed it downrange at the other faunus. “Don’t move a muscle!”

Everyone’s eyes widened the moment she drew Kiritsugu Emiya’s weapon, even Ironwood and Sienna who had no idea what it was. Only Gilgamesh appeared uninterested in the proceedings.

“Blake,” Arturia whispered, making sure she was standing between Jaune and the hand cannon. “Put it down. You don’t want the consequences of that gun on your hands.”

“I already do,” Blake confessed, recalling Emerald’s warped and bloody corpse. Even now, she couldn’t find it within herself to regret what she’d done to the thief. But seeing the results only made what could happen to her friends even clearer. All she had to do was pull the trigger. “I’ve used this thing before, and if I have to, I’ll do it again.”

“You’ll kill me?” Ilia asked incredulously, infuriated.

“Blake,” Sienna called, “Calm down. Remember who’s side you’re on.”

“Were you ever even on our side?!” Ilia demanded, her skin a blazing red.

“Lady Ilia!” Lancer shouted. “I will not have you question my master’s—”

“I have always been on your side!” Blake shot back over her Servant. “But this isn’t the way to see it done.”

“Then what is?!” Ilia demanded. “Lancer is incredible, but he can’t fight an entire army at once! If we don’t kill her—”

“I’d like to see you try!” Yang raged, fire igniting in her hands.

Blake glanced back at her teammate, sending her a pleading look. Her partner held her gaze for a few moments, but in the end, she put out the flames with a scoff.

“No one is dying today,” she stated.

“Yes, they are!” Ilia exploded, her skin flaring orange and red. “They’re dying all over the world! Millions of faunus, beaten like animals, scapegoated for crimes they didn’t commit, killed just because they’re different! They are dying and suffering, more and more every day. We swore to fight for them. Adam died for them! And you’ll throw away his sacrifice and put them through even more suffering just because you can’t bring yourself to put down one lousy human! You’ll damn our people for _one_ human!”

“I will not kill my friends!”

“I thought I was your friend! I thought Adam was your friend! Or were you always just a coward--”

Blake pulled the Contender into the air and fired, her normally still hands madly shaking. The gunshot reverberated across the desert, stopping Ilia’s words in her mouth.

Which was fortunate because during the course of the tirade, she had started to see Adam and Sun standing beside her, the former glaring at her with disgust while the latter just looked disappointed.

_‘You fight with half measures… sacrificing everyone around you but unwilling to do what must be done, unwilling to actually make their deaths mean something.’_

_‘Did I die for nothing, Blake?’_

_‘Blake Belladonna, so noble that she’ll run from a fight instead of seeing it through to the end.’_

_‘Did I really not mean anything to you?’_

“I will not kill my friends,” Blake murmured, tears trailing down her cheeks.

Adam was dead. Sun was dead. _Ruby_ was dead. Sweet, pure, precious little Ruby, her leader, her hope, was dead. If she was here, maybe she could have quieted the storm raging in her head, her ideals, her love, and her curse waging war for the cat faunus’ mind.

Because in one respect, Ilia was completely correct. Diarmuid was skilled and strong, a knight among knights, but he could not defeat the Ionian Hetairoi. Any aid she could offer him through aura and her last Command Seal were trumped by Yang’s two seals and bottomless supply of maiden magic. If she sent Lancer against Iskandar as things were, he would die.

Lancer would die.

She would not kill her friends.

Lancer’s quest would end in failure, all that he’d fought for would be in vain. Adam and Sun’s sacrifices would be for nothing.

She would not kill her friends.

Millions would suffer.

She would not kill her friends.

 _Lancer_ would die.

She would not kill her friends.

**Lancer would die!**

She would not kill her friends.

**LANCER WOULD DIE!**

**SHE WOULD NOT KILL HER FRIENDS!**

…

…

…

She would not _kill_ her friends.

With a flick of her hand, Blake tossed the Contender on the ground, the gun skidding across the rocks. She reached into her ammo pouch and tossed the remaining Origin Rounds straight after.

“Stand down, Ilia,” she ordered. “Adam trusted me with seeing our dream through to the end. I don’t intend to break that promise or cross my own line. So don’t attack and make me.”

Ilia scowled, but perhaps the implication behind her words, that she did in fact still consider the chameleon girl her friend, finally got through to her. At least for the moment, before Lancer’s curse spiked in her again.

Blake tread backward until she was right in front of Yang, Gambol Shroud still raised outward to protect her.

_‘Lancer?’_

_“Yes, master?”_

_‘I have a plan. One that will hopefully let us save everyone.’_

_“I’m listening.”_

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Yang sighed in relief when Ilia backed off. She hadn’t really bonded with the chameleon faunus during their journey together, but she knew how much the girl meant to Blake. She didn’t want to have to fry her with maiden power.

With her sister dead, she was more grateful than she could say for her partner’s support. She’d been neglecting Blake ever since she found out about Ruby’s true identity, ignoring her friend’s attempts to reach out and be brought more into the loop of everything that was going on. It wasn’t something she was proud of, or had even noticed at the time, she had been too absorbed in her own confusion. All that time, Blake had weathered her grief over Sun and Adam alone, borne Lancer’s curse alone. Now, with the dream she’d longed for her entire life mere inches from her fingertips, Yang and Iskandar an impassable boulder in her path, she still saved her. She hadn’t had to strike the blow herself; she hadn’t even been in on the planning. She’d just had to let it happen.

But she hadn’t. She knew Lancer couldn’t defeat Rider, but she still wouldn’t sacrifice Yang.

Honestly, it brought a smile to the blond huntress’ face. She may have lost her sister, her father, her uncle, and both her mothers, but she was not without friends. She could figure out who she was going to bring back with the Grail and Iskandar could incarnate and conquer the world. Hell, it would probably be a better place once he did. The King of Conquerors did not tolerate discrimination among his ranks after—

“By my Command Seal, Lancer kill Rider.”

Yang’s eyes widened, her own right arm immediately rising, her Command Seals already aglow with a crimson shine. “By my Command Seal, Rider—”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Suddenly, she was falling back, pain blazing through her elbow. She heard someone scream, Iskandar or Nora, maybe both? Her mind, already exhausted from powering Jaune’s Noble Phantasm, became clouded and blurry with agony. She barely registered Weiss catching her in her arms.

“Blake,” the heiress whispered in horror. “What have you done?”

Tears burst out from the cat faunus’ amber eyes, her entire body shaking, her black bloody sword falling to her side. “I couldn’t kill her. It was the only way.”

Yang didn’t understand what she was talking about. But her eyes soon locked on to Lancer, his spears mere inches from Rider’s chest. She needed to help him, give him an agility boost to match Lancer’s speed, the Command Seals…

Why was her arm over there?

As she faded into unconsciousness, the last thing she saw was a blur, the divine speed of the Lancer class transcending itself with the power of a Command Seal, Gae Buide impaling itself through Iskandar’s heart.

 

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Diarmuid frowned, gazing upon the King of Conquerors with all the sympathy he could muster as the boisterous man was driven to his knees, his heart and lungs both pierced by the knight’s twin spears. In a straight fight, using all their abilities, Diarmuid could not defeat the entirety of the Ionian Hetairoi. But alone, he outstripped their king’s speed by a wide margin. With a Command Seal amplifying his agility, the Servant of the Mount never stood a chance.

“I’m sorry, Rider,” he said regretfully. “I wish there was another way.”

Iskandar didn’t seem to appreciate such apologies, scowling as he coughed up a spurt of blood. “Strange. I never thought you the type to shirk from an impossible task.”

Diarmuid sighed. “Neither did I. But… my master entrusted his dream to me. This way, at least I can see it done with the least bloodshed.”

Rider glared towards Yang’s now one-armed form, Blake still shaking in horror before her even as Ilia came up and clamped a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Lady Ilia would have tried to kill her otherwise,” Diarmuid desperately explained. “And the only way that could have ended was if one of them killed the other. This way, only we have to die, and none of us are any great loss. We’ve already lived our lives.”

“An act of compassion then? A blessing hidden in a curse?” Iskandar snorted, though the anger disappeared from his face, replaced by a calm resignation. “I can accept that. She will not be harmed further, I assume?”

“There would be no point.”

“No point?” Iskandar noted, his back beginning to dissipate into sapphire sparks. “Not ‘you would not allow it’, but ‘no point’? That’s oddly pragmatic of you, Lancer. You sound like Assassin.”

Diarmuid’s frown deepened. “I cannot claim victory with honor. And I cannot allow my master to have died in vain, not again. I cannot be useless again. If the only way is to be damned… then I will be damned.”

Rider chuckled. “Damned? You poor fool. You are a good man, Lancer. I pray desperation does not push you so far that you lose even that.”

The King of Conquerors glanced back at Yang, a smile on his face. “Even still, this campaign was… glorious. A dream to have lived.”

With that, Iskandar disappeared into notes of blue light.

Diarmuid steadied his shaking hands, taking a deep breath to push down his self-loathing. He had no fervent love for the King of Conquerors, the both of them had agreed that their alliance was only until Salem was dealt with. But still, during that time, just as during the Battle at the Mion River, he had proved himself a valiant and honorable ally. Attacking him before he could raise his Reality Marble may have been the wise choice, indeed, the only way he could have won, but he still felt like a rabid beast for it. He truly was no better than Assassin.

But if that was so, then he had to keep going. The battle was won. Now he had to win the war, to make sure that all his master’s sacrifice, that all his own sin, that none of it was in vain.

He looked to Gilgamesh, who frowned back. The sparks of the King of Conquerors flooded into the Lesser Grail in his hand.

“That’s it, correct?” Diarmuid inquired. “It’s fully charged.”

“Indeed,” the golden man replied, his eyes narrowing at the knight. “All it requires now is a master or Servant to make their wish.”

With a flick of his wrist, the King of Heroes tossed the chalice into the orb of light, the Greater Grail absorbing the goblet into its depths.

Lady Blake’s eyes widened in terror. “What have you done?!”

“They are the same device, have no fear,” Gilgamesh snorted. “The first one to enter the Grail will have their wish. Whichever of you that is.”

The cat faunus paled, whirling around to face Jaune Arc. Diarmuid did the same, regretfully turning until he was face to face with Arturia.

If they were both at their best, he had no doubt he’d be on the wrong end of an Excalibur blast. But the reason he and Blake had targeted Iskandar was because Yang had been the only one of the remaining masters with enough power remaining to allow their Servant to do anything costly. Jaune’s aura was completely depleted from using his Noble Phantasm and Saber had used most of her own power to hold off the Grimm. Whatever little _prana_ she had remaining would have to go towards maintaining Avalon’s healing powers in order to keep Winter’s body from breaking down.

Neither of the masters had any Command Seals remaining, meaning that Lady Blake’s aura, depleted as it was, gave them a very slight advantage. Still, he would be a fool to believe that such a boon gave him any superiority over the King of Knights. Even now, both of them utterly exhausted, in a one on one battle the victor between them could be decided by the barest of factors. A slip of the sand, a sag of a tired muscle, even the tiniest of overreaches in their attack or defense could leave them vulnerable and decide the match.

Once, such a contest of honest mettle would have made his heart sing. But now… now he was just tired. Was this how Assassin felt all the time? So utterly exhausted, weighed down by the sins he had committed in the name of noble goals? No wonder the man had been so prickly.

_“I will not kill my friends. I will not kill my friends. I will not kill my friends…”_

_‘Master?’_

_“…The Grail is charged. That means we don’t have to kill them. We just need to get to the Greater Grail first. I can outrun Jaune, can you hold off Arturia?”_

Diarmuid nodded. _‘It will be done.’_

Another sin on his shoulder, this one for not taking one on earlier. Because of his failure to do what needed to be done in the first place, because of his honor and his asinine curse, Lady Blake had been forced to stain herself with the blood of her dearest friend. He should have been better. Or perhaps now it was, he should have been worse. After all, honor and righteousness could not save the world.

He raised his spears to Saber, for a moment seeing a dark industrial dockyard instead of a barren rocky wasteland.

“You against me,” he muttered mournfully. “It seems it will end as it began, so long ago.”

Arturia’s eyes hardened, her sword ready for battle, plain to see, for the cost of Invisible Air would be too much of a risk.

“I ended your master’s life, old friend,” she reminded him. “Do you hate me for that?”

“For an action made by Salem’s will? Never,” Diarmuid assured her. “But I must see his dream through to reality. Equality and kindness between humans and faunus. A wish that beautiful must come to pass, and I cannot fail him again, even if I must bring his purest dream about with methods his blackest self would approve of.”

“You say that, but I fear you do not truly understand it. I hope that when you do, your true nature will win out.” Excalibur blazed with a golden glow, not mighty enough to be its ultimate attack, but still a formidable sight. “Still, it seems we will finally have our duel.”

“So it would seem.”

Both of them disappeared in blurs of green and blue, only to reappear farther back along the desert, the air rippling with power as sword and spear clashed under the light of the Greater Grail.

 

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Even as his mother and Lancer rushed towards each other, the titanic ring of their weapons singing out like a symphony across the wasteland, Jaune’s mind was drawing a blank, his eyes locked on Yang’s arm. Yang’s _severed_ arm.

Yang’s arm severed by _Blake_.

What the fuck—

“Jaune, look out!”

He was rocked from his stupor as a glowing yellow whip streaked towards his eyes, his body instinctively stumbling back from the crackling wire. Even still, he would have become a blind man if Ren hadn’t dropped Nora to the ground and leap in to block the blow with Stormflower, both pistols now once more in his grasp.

Ilia recalled her weapon with a snarl. “You won’t stop Lancer! His wish will save all faunus!”

She whirled on said Servant’s master. “Go Blake! Get the Grail for Lancer!”

“What?” Blake muttered, barely wrenching her eyes away from Yang’s fallen form in Weiss’ arms, her teammate frantically working to stop the bleeding from her partner’s stump. “Oh, right.”

“Go!” Ilia roared, charging towards Team JNPR. Ren immediately dashed forward to meet her, the huntsmen quickly dancing around the faunus girl’s swift whip lashes.

“Jaune!” Nora shouted, crawling along the ground towards the scattered Origin Rounds. “Get the Grail! We’ll handle this!”

The Grail? The Grail!

Salem was gone which meant the wishes could be used however they wanted them to be. His mom could transfer her soul to a physical body that could handle her power, come back into the world, to their family, just as Mordred had fought for at the end. But that would doubtlessly be her wish, the dream that drove her sword as it hammered after Diarmuid, sonic booms erupting out from their clash. Which meant he still had a wish for himself.

What should he do with it? Bringing down Mordred from the Throne and creating a new body would take two wishes, and he knew his sibling would kill him if he took Arturia from their family, so that was out. Turning back time to resurrect Pyrrha was also out. Ruby had sacrificed everything to destroy Salem and though there might have been a chance it would go better, there was also a chance it would go far worse and he wouldn’t risk the world on that chance, not after everything his friends had sacrificed.

But as Gilgamesh appeared at Weiss’ side, propping Yang up and retrieving a small blue vial from his vault, a pair of ideas finally entered Jaune’s mind, one responsible and one selfish. With Salem gone, the King of Heroes was officially the most dangerous threat to those he loved. Ruby may have convinced him to help them stop the Queen of the Grimm, but he’d made it perfectly clear beforehand that his disdain for Salem could coexist with his murderous intentions towards anything else that mildly displeased him, most prominently Jaune’s father and sisters. The responsible thing to do would be to eliminate such a powerful and unpredictable threat to his family and Remnant at large.

But there was also another detail that propped up in his mind. If Ruby was Ea, then by extension, Ea _was_ Ruby. Her soul was still on their plane of existence, it was just stuck in a form that couldn’t interact with any of them… maybe. He didn’t completely understand the mechanics of metaphysical magic after all. For all he knew, he would just be wasting a wish trying to create a new body for his fallen friend. It was selfish to potentially waste something that powerful on one person instead of using it to eliminate a threat to the world that couldn’t be put down otherwise.

But screw it, that one person meant the world to him. He was tired of losing people he cared about. Just this once, he wanted to be selfish. He could get Ruby a stronger body with the wish and she could blast Gilgamesh to kingdom come with Enuma Elish, without dying in the process. He was the Shield of Heroes or whatever, right? Well, his friends, Ruby especially, were heroes in his book. He would protect them.

With barely a glance to make sure General Ironwood was engaged in combat with Sienna Khan, keeping the tiger faunus from attacking him from behind, Jaune took off after Blake towards the Greater Grail.

Of course, dashing across the rocky wasteland, the black cat faunus swiftly approaching the giant orb of light and power, he quickly noted the issues with that strategy. Blake was faster than him when they were both at their best, let alone when he was out of aura and she wasn’t. She couldn’t have had much left, but there was still no way he could catch up to her in a straight foot race.

Fortunately, as she had plainly demonstrated only moments before, this was a Holy Grail War. Cheating and unconventionality wasn’t just allowed, it was encouraged.

Jaune quickly disassembled Crocea Mors from its broadsword form, leaving him with a blade and a shield. As he ran, he reversed his grip on the hilt, leaned back, and threw his family sword like a javelin.

The weapon wasn’t weighted for the flight, and Jaune himself was hardly an expert in any ranged weaponry, but the distance was hardly great, and luck seemed to be on his side for once in his life. The sword streaked through the air, striking down to clip into Blake’s calves. As expected, she had her semblance ready and waiting to fire at the first hint of pain, a shadow clone shooting the real huntress up into the air.

Which put her right into the path of Jaune’s sheath that he’d thrown right after his blade, which had of course gone widely high, but with the change of position had nailed Blake right in the back of the head. Her aura was too low to produce a new clone to take the hit for her and, as Ruby had once pointed out, the sheath weighed the same as it did as a sturdy steel shield, knocking the huntress into the dirt.

Jaune seized the opportunity to catch up, dashing up until the Greater Grail encompassed his entire vision. Unfortunately, Blake wasn’t the type to stay down after one hit. Just as he was about to pass her, she twisted and swept his legs out from under him, sending him tumbling into the dirt.

Both huntsmen quickly set upon each other, grappling as they each attempted to keep the other from getting to their feet, Blake’s slim remaining aura giving her a strength boost to match Jaune’s superior size.

“Jaune stop!” Blake pleaded, her eyes skittish and frantic. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

The huntsman scoffed. “Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t want to kill my friends! I just want to make things better! I want to save my people.”

“I’m bringing back Ruby!” Jaune roared, his hand reaching for his opponent’s belt, his fingers grasping for her sword.

“And then what?” Blake demanded. “The Grimm are on borrowed time, but that doesn’t fix the world. And once they’re gone, who do you think humanity is going to turn on next? It’s millions vs. one person, you know what choice Ruby would make!”

Jaune growled, taking advantage of Blake’s speech to ram an elbow into her gut. He took advantage of her brief opening to draw Gambol Shroud from her belt, pulling back the sword to slash through her chest. “Ruby died for you and you cut off her sister’s arm!”

“Sun died for you! What are you doing?!”

He flinched; he couldn’t help it. The mention of the friend who had taken his mother’s blow, the memory of Blake’s wail of horror ringing through his ears, it made him pause, just for an instant.

But that instant was more than enough time for Blake to reach down to her belt and slash upwards with Gambol Shroud’s bladed sheath, knocking the weapon itself from Jaune’s hands. She then proceeded to deliver a strong kick to his stomach, sending him tumbling across the ground as she dashed for the Grail.

Jaune scowled, smashing his hand into the sand in impotent fury. He’d never catch up to her now. He’d lost the wish for his mother, for Ruby. He had nothing left to throw and slow her down…

It was then his eyes widened, his gaze locking onto the heavy brown gun he’d landed right in front of.

“Nora!” he called. “Throw me a bullet!”

“What?” his teammate exclaimed, glancing down at the ammunition she’d scrounged from the ground. “But, Jaune, that’ll—”

“Just do it!”

Nora frowned disapprovingly, but her faith in him was still ironclad and she obeyed his command.

Jaune caught the Origin Round and loaded it into the Contender’s breach, raising the hand cannon at Blake’s retreating form.

For a moment, one of the longest moments in his life, it seemed, he just held it there, his finger twitching over the trigger, the thunderous roar of his mother’s battle with Lancer raging in the background.

He could kill her, put her through hellish torture from which there was no recovery. She’d stabbed her own partner in the back, Lancer’s curse or not, good intentions or not, she’d sliced off Yang’s arm. Sure, Atlas could easily provide a prosthetic, but she’d _cut off her arm_. Of her best friend! He’d been about to kill her earlier with Gambol Shroud, slice open her chest like a pig’s gut, so why was he hesitating now, when he had the chance to bring back his mother and his first friend? Because of the weapon he’d use to do it?

Or maybe because Blake, whatever she had done, had flatly _refused_ to use that same weapon on Yang, or him. When he’d been sprawled on the ground, when she could have scooped up Gambol Shroud and shot him in the head, she hadn’t. Even slicing off Yang’s arm, as unforgivable an act as it was, had been done to keep both Yang and Ilia alive and save her people, a noble goal that would remove the White Fang and all the conflict that came with it from the world, saving countless lives. It was all selfless. Twisted and warped, but at the center of it selfless. So much so that it wrapped all the way back around to being selfish.

But no more selfish than his own desires.

Sun, Mordred, Ruby, his mother, so many people he’d cared about had given up their lives for his sake. Could he take one of those same friends’ lives, in the most torturous, agonizing way possible, a method that she herself had eschewed, for that same cause?

Was that what the Shield of Heroes would do?

He found his answer… and lowered the gun. Despite her recent action, Blake was still the same person who’d trudged across continents fighting by his side, who’d helped protect Mordred when she’d been vulnerable from _prana_ strain, who’d saved his life multiple times just as he’d saved hers. She still counted them as friends, and despite everything, so did he.

In the next instant, Blake’s hand slammed into the surface of the Greater Grail, prompting a great golden surge of light from the mystical device. When it faded, both she and Lancer had disappeared.

“What?” Ilia stuttered, staggering away from a still combat ready Ren. “What happened? Where are they?”

“They won,” Gilgamesh declared, pouring the contents of his vial down Yang’s throat as the huntress stirred. “They’re in the Grail’s hands now.”


	93. The Walk Back

_“Wha—Where are we?” Blake stuttered; her amber eyes wide. “What is this place?”_

_When she had touched the Grail, there’d been a blinding glow of light, shining so bright that not even the sun at the height of summer could possibly compare to its brilliant radiance. Blake had expected it to take her into some far-off reach of the cosmos or magical library haven or something._

_Instead, She and Lancer found themselves in the middle of an enormous meadow, thousands of light pink flowers stretching as far as the eye could see, their petals floating through the air, some falling naturally while others floated upward as if carried by an unseen hand. The sky above was at once the crystal blue of a calm sea and the pitch black of deepest night, stars both seen and unseen twinkling throughout the wondrous heavens._

_“I don’t know, master,” Lancer replied, his spears absent from his hands. “But this place… something about it… I believe we are inside the Greater Grail.”_

_“That is correct.”_

_Both master and Servant whirled around at the sound of the gentle voice. Before them stood a tall, lithe woman decked in flowing, elegant white robes with golden lining, a crownlike hat atop her head. Her pure white hair ran down past her waist, a pair of deep crimson eyes staring out from a face of the palest alabaster. Her form flickered like a broken hologram before solidifying._

_Blake’s eyes narrowed. She’d never met the woman before her, and the aura she emitted was a calming, peaceful one, a warm sunny day. And yet, her poise, the graceful lines of her chin, it was almost like Salem._

_Lancer raised an eyebrow. “Lady Einzbern?”_

_The woman bowed her head. “I am a re-creation of the being once known as Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern. I am here to act as your terminal to the Greater Grail, victorious master and Servant.”_

_“A terminal?” Blake said. “Like a computer?”_

_“Magecraft and technology are often said to be parallel fields,” Lancer noted. “Two paths both reaching towards the same goals.”_

_“Indeed,” Justeaze… the terminal… Justeaze agreed. “Now, state your wish.”_

_“My… wish?” Blake muttered._

_She glanced to Lancer, the both of them sharing a warm smile. They’d done it. They’d won the Holy Grail War. The wish, the power to bring peace to humans and faunus across Remnant, it was within their grasp. All of Adam, Sun, and countless others’ toil and sacrifice would come to fruition, would not be in vain._

_What she… what she had done to Yang would not be in vain._

_She would bear her partner’s hatred, she deserved all of it. But if it was the price to save her people, to spare millions from discrimination and oppression, then it would be selfish not to persevere through it. Whatever Yang demanded as recompense; she would pay it. There were two wishes after all._

_Oh, but Lancer would need his wish. He’d have to have the chance to get his reward for getting her this far, for sticking to it through Adam’s demise. She’d use her wish for her people so he could have his desire. She’d find some other way to pay back Yang._

_“My lady?” Diarmuid prodded, rousing her from her thoughts. “If you desire, I can go first—”_

_“No. That’s alright, Lancer. I’m ready,” Blake assured him. If she let him wish before her people were saved, he’d do it himself out of duty._

_She took a deep breath, finally halting the tremor that had been running through her skin since she’d used her last Command Seal. She turned towards Justeaze._

_“I wish for an end to all conflict, discrimination, and hatred between humans and faunus.”_

_Justeaze nodded. “As you wish.”_

_Blake grinned; her eyes wet with hope. That was it. Her heart’s desire. The dream that she’d spent her entire life working towards, from her father’s first speech to her first sword stroke to Beacon all the way to hell. This would not redeem her sins, but it would lend them purpose, prove that while her good intentions paved her road to hell, they also lifted the world up to salvation—_

_“How do you desire for your wish to be executed?”_

_Blake’s face froze, her entire body suddenly going numb. “What?”_

_“How do you desire your wish to be executed?” Justeaze repeated. “What method would you have the Grail use to complete your order?”_

_Blake whirled around to Diarmuid, praying that this was not what she feared it was, but she found her Servant just as stupified as her._

_“What are you talking about?” he inquired. “Through a miracle. The Grail can perform a miracle, can it not? That’s the reason we’ve all been fighting. It’s the reason my master died!”_

_“The Grail is a repository of magical energy. A mass of pure prana drawn from the souls of the greatest heroes mankind has ever known. It is capable of action in an instant that many could not dream to achieve in a thousand lifetimes,” Justeaze explained, her expression remaining a stony mask. “But it is power alone. The user must know how they would put that power into action for anything to be done.”_

_“So, it can only do what we already know how to do?” Blake demanded hotly. “How is that a miracle?!”_

_Justeaze shrugged. “The Grail grants one the power of a god. But only for a single moment. What would you do in that single moment?”_

_“Help my people!”_

_“Then I will extract options from your mind, and you may choose if you so desire,” Justeaze replied. “The eradication of all humans. The removal of their and the faunus’ capacity to hate through lobotomization. The transformation of all members of one species into another—”_

_“No! Stop! STOP! I don’t want—I don’t want any of that!”_

_Blake collapsed to her hands and knees, heaving above the flowerbed. Her stomach churned as a weight settled over her shoulders, all that she’d done collapsing before her eyes, her mind desperately searching for some way to salvage everything._

_Killing all humanity was obviously out of the question. Yes, there could be no hatred between the two races if one of them was gone, but she wasn’t going to commit genocide. Transforming one species into the other was also off the table. Even if the faunus were some mystically enabled evolution of humanity, both species had been separated for so long that they’d established their own identities, their own culture. They wouldn’t give that up and she couldn’t make them._

_Which left… removing their hatred?_

_No! Messing with people’s minds, forcing them to think a certain way, that was what Salem had done to Weiss, what she had wanted to do to the entire world. Ruby had given everything to stop a kingdom of Alters from coming into being. She refused to invalidate that sacrifice!_

_But then… where did that leave her?_

_With nothing. Just like always. The coward who couldn’t help anyone, no matter what she tried._

_“Whether through honor or devilry,” Diarmuid muttered, his gaze staring brokenly into the distance. “Useless until the end.”_

_“I assure you, all these tasks are well within the Grail’s capabilities,” Justeaze said. “You need only give the word.”_

_Blake paled. She did not want to do any of those things but… but Lancer’s curse was still inlaid within her. It twisted her mind, guided her thoughts towards whatever would help him, no matter what she desired otherwise. If he desired it… she didn’t know if she could stop herself. Adam, she didn’t think, even as he was at the end, that he would have hesitated to use any of those options. And Lancer knew of his past. If he decided that the price would be worth it for his former master—_

_“No.” Diarmuid declared immediately, his eyes hardening. “Never. No matter the gains, no matter the master… never that.”_

_Despite everything, despite despair gripping her from all sides, despite having absolutely no idea what to do with her dreams utterly defeated, Blake couldn’t help the small smile that rose to her lips. She knew how far she was willing to go to get what she wanted._

_Now, she needed to pay for how far she’d gone._

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“It’s done, it’s done,” Ilia murmured, kneeling on the ground. “She’s won. Lancer’s won. There’ll be peace soon. Everything’ll be alright—”

“Be silent,” Arturia commanded, her voice level but the fury simmering beneath easily detectable, her shining blade only accentuating the threat as it swung at her side.

“Ilia, do as she says,” Sienna ordered calmly from next to her subordinate.

Arturia scowled, turning back to the Greater Grail. After Diarmuid had disappeared along with his master, the remaining two White Fang members had been wise enough to surrender, they could not hope to fight her without another Servant’s aid after all. Now, the two faunus knelt, their weapons far away while General Ironwood, Nora, and Ren watched over them.

Jaune stood beside her, the both of them gazing upon the shining glow of the Grail.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Arturia raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

Jaune glanced down at the Contender in his hand. “I could have killed her. I could have won but—”

“Choosing not to use that weapon is not a mistake,” Arturia assured him. She knew better than most exactly what kind of horror Kiritsugu’s origin could unleash, especially on one with aura. What Blake had done was certainly a heavy sin, but that… that was not a fate to be handed out carelessly.

Besides, ultimately, they were not the ones with the right to cast judgment upon her. That task fell to another.

Yang was back on her feet, a nervous Weiss and an indifferent Gilgamesh at her sides. The stump that remained at her elbow had stopped bleeding; the wound cauterized by fire from her own maiden powers. The now one-armed huntress had her gaze locked on the Grail, her deep crimson eyes strangely cold for the blonde.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?” Weiss tentatively asked. “You just… well… you probably shouldn’t be on your feet so soon—”

“Why isn’t she out yet?” Yang demanded, her voice even by no one mistaking it for calm. “How long is this wish supposed to take?”

“Not much longer,” Gilgamesh noted. “Though, if she makes the wrong choice, most of us might be dead in a few moments.”

“Blake wouldn’t do that.” Weiss insisted.

“Why not?” Yang challenged, hefting up her stump. “She’s already made one.”

Gilgamesh shrugged. “If she had chosen correctly, she should be out in a few seconds.”

“Seconds?” Weiss squeaked, as Yang’s eyes ignited with the maiden’s blaze.

Indeed, true to the King of Heroes’ words, the surface of the Grail shimmered an instant later. From the orb of golden light limped out Blake Belladonna, her eyes broken and empty as they stared into the distance.

“Blake!” Ilia cheered. “Did you do it? Where’s Lancer—”

Even before the chameleon girl finished speaking, a green blur shot out of the Grail.

Or at least, to anyone else, it would have appeared a blur. To Arturia, and likely Gilgamesh as well, Diarmuid’s charge was quite simple to see, his spears thrust forward towards Winter’s body.

The King of Knights reacted instantly, flashing forward and meeting Lancer halfway. Even as she raised her blade, she could tell what he was doing. He was barely moving at half speed and his form was so lax even a novice could have torn it apart. It was not the technique of a Knight of Fianna.

At least, not one that wished to live.

Part of her wondered what had occurred in the chalice to shatter the man’s spirit so utterly, but in the end, they were still Servants in a Holy Grail War. That duty came before her sympathies.

So, it was with a heavy heart and a swift hand that she cleaved Excalibur through his chest.

“No!” Ilia wailed. The girl leapt up to run forward but Ironwood caught her, his mechanical arm unyielding as he held her back, tears rushing down her face.

Arturia thrust her sword into the ground and then whirled around, catching her friend’s body as he tumbled forward. Slowly, she knelt, his bleeding form in her arms.

“Thank you… for finishing our duel,” Lancer mumbled.

“Why did you do that?” she asked. “You won. Why did you come back to die?”

“What else was there to do?” he replied, blood bubbling from his mouth. “I fought with honor. I fought with villainy. Neither one mattered. No matter who I try to help, no matter how I try to help, I’m just… useless. I lived for nothing.”

“You did not live for nothing,” she said. “You claimed victory for your master, did you not?”

Diarmuid snorted. “A hollow thing. To claim an empty chalice that could not bring about his wish. At least not in a way I could allow.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Grail, pure it may be, requires a method to be provided. Neither I nor Lady Blake had one short of genocide.”

Arturia’s eyes widened. “Did you—”

“Like I said, not in a way I could allow.”

The King of Knights smiled sadly at her old friend. “Then you made the right choice. At the end of all this, you did the right thing. That is worth something, Diarmuid.”

“Perhaps,” the Irish Knight murmured. “But not being a monster does not make one of worth. It certainly does not make them a hero.”

Arturia forced her smile to remain, recalling Mordred’s final tear-stained profession, her desperation to not be a monster. “A single mistake does not make one evil. Especially if they endeavor to correct it.”

Diarmuid chuckled. “You are entirely too charitable, King of Knights. I have struggled against this cursed blight on my face all my life, sought to be kind despite its nature. I thought to serve some lord who knew better than a pathetic seducer. And, though I never was able to achieve such goodness, I thank you for always displaying that it exists. Your light… has been a blessing.”

Arturia snorted. “Now who is being charitable?”

A small smile adorned Lancer’s lips. His spears tumbled from his grip as his body disappeared into sapphire sparks.

“Lancer,” Arturia said. “If you did not fulfill Adam’s wish, what did you wish for?”

“You speak as if I was ever worthy of the Grail,” Lancer replied. “Though I would love to see the world you forge from this Remnant, King of Knights, I am unworthy to see it. My wish is for you to make your wish.”

Arturia’s eyes widened. “Diarmuid… thank you.”

“I am unworthy of your gratitude,” the Irishman declared, his body dissipating to notes of blue light. “Please though, let Lady Blake choose the rest of her path. One way or another, it is her only way to peace.”

With that, the Knight of Fianna disappeared. And left Arturia with another quandary.

Jaune tentatively stepped forward, tapping her on the shoulder. She raised her head only to catch him glaring away from her. She followed his furious gaze to Blake, the cat faunus slowly limping forward as Yang strode to meet her.

What exactly had Diarmuid meant? She was hardly going to take the black-haired girl’s side in the matter. The masters had agreed to let the Servants alone fight the final bout of the war, and though she acknowledged that Rider’s elimination undoubtedly saved her life, she wasn’t going to deny Yang’s anger against her partner. Unless…

_‘One way or another…’_

Arturia’s eyes widened. No. She couldn’t possibly be willing to… but then Yang wouldn’t… would she?

Her worst fears were confirmed when Blake sank to her knees before her blond teammate, her head bowed in complete supplication.

“The wish is yours. Kill me. I deserve it.”

The words had barely left her mouth when the two huntresses were engulfed in a firestorm.

 

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She betrayed her. Blake betrayed her.

Her _partner_ had betrayed her.

Now, she had the audacity to come before her and claim that it was _her_ wish?

Well, she was right about one thing. She did deserve this.

White-hot fire rushed from her fingers, from the only hand she had left, and erupted into Blake. Her ‘friend’ was blasted across the ground, the gravel turning to glass as her aura shattered like tissue paper. Pitch black burns blossomed along her skin, agonized screams filling the air.

In the back of Yang’s mind, some part of her, some tiny fraction that wasn’t completely consumed in absolute fury recognized that she was likely doing permanent damage, scarring someone who had saved her life on multiple occasions. But the rest of her could only think about Iskandar, who would never be born anew into the world he longed to conquer, about her father, now doomed to die in torment. About Ruby, who had sacrificed everything to save them all and now would remain dead, just like everyone else. About how none of the people she loved would get what they deserved.

Well, she was going to change that. After all, she knew exactly what Blake deserved.

Ash.

The maiden’s power surged within her and her inferno soared into the heavens, a typhoon of flames curling down to crash back into the world and render judgment upon the one who’d wronged its master.

At least it would have, if a snow-white glyph hadn’t blossomed in the air between the faunus and the fire, stalemating the blaze.

Yang narrowed her eyes, her final teammate dashing over to stand between her and her partner, sweat pouring down her brow as she maintained her semblance.

“Get out of my way, Weiss.”

“Yang, think about what you’re doing,” the Schnee heiress implored her, her crystal blue eyes wide with pleading. “This is Blake. You’re about to murder Blake.”

“She killed Iskandar!” Yang roared, tears bursting from her eyes. “She betrayed us both! She stole the wish, she stole my dad, and she stole Ruby! What would you do to the person who took your family from you?!”

Weiss’ looked down, liquid trickling down her cheeks as her barrier flickered. If Yang poured any more power into the flames, they’d shatter the glyph like glass and incinerate both her teammates. It took all her willpower to cut through her fury and restrain herself from killing her innocent friend along with the guilty.

“Weiss, go,” Blake whimpered, still strewn across the ground. “I’m not worth it.”

“Shut up!” Weiss shouted. “You want to talk about death wishes, get in line! But Ruby didn’t sacrifice herself so we could kill each other!”

“Yeah!” Nora called up, finally struggling to her feet. “It’s over. There’s no point in fighting each other.”

“She betrayed us, Nora. She betrayed her partner,” Jaune frowned, glaring daggers at Blake. “Let her partner decide her fate.”

“What? Jaune, you can’t be serious!”

Yang sent the leader of Team JNPR a grateful nod, appreciating his respect for her rage. She also noted Arturia’s loose grip on her sword, the King of Knights merely observing the scene, her face scrunched up as if unsure how to proceed.

“Stop,” Ilia begged, tears gathering around the rims of her eyes. “She did it to protect me. It was my choice. Kill me.”

“No,” Blake muttered. “My choice. My fault. All my fault.”

Yang supposed they were both right in a way. Ilia had been one the first one to attack her, the one who tried to kill her, while Blake had at the very least refused to do that.

But Ilia had not been her friend. Ilia had not been her partner. Ilia had not betrayed her. Blake had.

The friend she had feared would leave her behind for her grand dream had done just that, leaving a dagger in her back just as Kirei had warned. Even dead and buried, the bastard was taunting her. And she could no more forgive Blake for proving him right than she could for slicing off her hand.

The flames tripled in size and Weiss’ glyph was shattered to pieces. Yang swept her hand to the side and a typhoon whipped through the air and sent the white-haired girl careening across the ground.

“Don’t do this, Yang,” Weiss pleaded, struggling to get to her knees. “Lancer’s curse was affecting her mind, just like Salem was affecting mine.”

“And that makes it alright?” Yang hissed, the flames rising all around her.

Weiss glanced away, her hands clenching as tears dripped from her cheeks. “No, it doesn’t. Nothing will ever make it alright. But doing this won’t make it better. Let her live. She’ll carry it for the rest of her life just like… just like I’ll carry my sins. But please, enough people have died for this war. Let it end.”

“I will.” A miniature sun erupted within her palm, Yang’s crimson eyes staring down at Blake’s broken form. “I’ll end it with fire.”

“Indeed, it is sure to be a spectacular show.”

If it were anyone else’s voice that piped up just then, Yang probably would have roasted them on the spot. But hearing the veneer of forced indifference cutting through the air, and the knowledge that even as she was, she could not best this opponent led her to slowly turn her hateful glare onto Gilgamesh.

“Something to say, goldie? You’re not actually going to suggest she deserves forgiveness?”

“People rarely get what they deserve,” The King of Heroes shrugged. “And even so, whether she deserves it or not has no bearing on this situation. Forgiveness is not given because it is deserved. It is an act of mercy, of kindness.”

“So you’re saying I should be kind?” Yang snarled. “You, of all people?”

“I am not saying you should do anything,” Gilgamesh replied smoothly. “I have no intention of intervening in this matter, and apparently neither does the King of Knights. No one else here can stop you from doing anything. She betrayed you, you are the offended party. You can do whatever you want with her. You can show her mercy as your sister would or wrath as I would. It is entirely _your_ choice.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed. She turned back to Blake, her treacherous partner lying broken and burnt across the ground, her amber eyes staring brokenly into the distance.

She could kill her. She wanted to, so badly. No one could stop her. So what if Blake had been influenced by Lancer’s curse, so what if she’d still been trying to _save_ her, so what if she’d been trying to save her people? She had betrayed everything they’d built since Beacon and left Yang and her family out to dry. For that, she could burn her to ash, for Iskandar, for her father, for Ruby and no one present could call her evil for doing so.

But those she’d done it for would be horrified by what she’d done in their name.

Ruby would not kill Blake for this. Oh sure, she would kick her ass six ways to Sunday, demand she pay for her actions, but kill her? In cold blood? Never. Hell, knowing her, she might even sympathize with her internal conflict and regret enough to forgive her. She was endlessly compassionate like that.

But Yang wasn’t Ruby.

She knelt down and gripped Blake by the roots of her hair, forcing the cat faunus to look her in the eye.

“For Ruby, you get to live,” she growled. “Live on, knowing that every second of your pathetic, coward’s life, you owe to the friend you doomed.”

She smashed her partner’s face into the dirt. With a final huff, she rose and turned away, her flames extinguishing in an instant.

“She’s not… doomed.”

Yang froze in her tracks, glancing back to the crumpled girl behind her, her eyebrow raised in confusion. “What?”

Blake struggled to raise her head, her burned arms unable to support her. Weiss came over and pulled her onto her lap, allowing her to speak without obstruction. “Ruby’s not doomed. My wish… my wish was for the wish to be yours.”

Yang’s eyes, along with everyone’s who wasn’t Arturia and Gilgamesh, widened at that declaration.

“What?!” Sienna yelled, only Ironwood holding her down keeping her from leaping forward and clawing the other faunus’ eyes out. “Are you insane, Blake? Our people, our suffering, you could have ended it in and instant you… you faltered? Why?! After everything—”

“The Grail requires a method,” Blake interrupted. “It requires a method, for a moment… we couldn’t think of anything… anything that could be done, short of genocide. We couldn’t… we couldn’t… and it was all for nothing.”

Sienna instantly deflated, her eyes blankly staring into the distance. Ilia laid motionless on the ground. “It… it was supposed to be a miracle.”

Meanwhile, Yang’s eyebrows furrowed. Blake’s actions were… not awful. But refusing to wipe out the human race wasn’t exactly a high bar of morality. She didn’t get points for not being Kirei.

But she’d returned the wish. She’d tried to make amends, to give Yang a chance to save her family. Whatever, her sins, she did want to make it right.

Too bad it was too little, too late.

Whatever the case, she now had a wish. And she needed to decide what to do with it.

Her earlier dilemma still stood. Did she revive her sister hoping her father would be proud of her allowing him to die in agony, or did she heal his incurable wound and leave Ruby where she lay? Either way, her family would still be splintered, scarred from a war they’d given everything to win.

“What do you think your Servant would do?” Gilgamesh interjected suddenly, drawing her gaze.

Yang cocked an eyebrow. “You know what I’m going to do?”

“It’s not difficult to deduce,” the golden man stated. “He and I had our differences, but on the matter of the Grail, we were in agreement. It should not be used for anything that can be done without it.”

“What are you talking about? Both of the things I need to do need—”

Yang’s eyes widened as realization shot through her mind. A moment later, she glared at the King of Heroes, her jaw setting like steel. “If you’re lying to me, I don’t care how powerful you are. I will destroy you.”

“You really mustn’t make threats you cannot carry out. Ea’s kin should not appear so childish,” Gilgamesh declared. “Nonetheless, such trickery would be beneath me, as I’m sure you know. It will take some time, but I will see it done.”

For a minute, she held her hardened gaze on the golden monarch. He was the bastard who’d killed one of her mothers and his actions had led to the death of the other. Yes, she knew there was more to it than that, but it didn’t change how she felt. But if he could do what he claimed…

Well, her wish suddenly became much more obvious.

 

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“Doctor! Doctor!”

“What is it? Has the patient worsened?”

“No, sir! It’s… it’s actually the opposite. His aura… whatever happened to it, whatever warped it, it’s suddenly… not.”

“He’s back to normal?!”

“In perfect health, sir.”

“Let me double-check just to make sure. After that, well, hopefully, we give Beacon a call and let Professor Goodwitch know the good news.”

 

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Jaune watched impassively as Yang removed her hand from the surface of the Greater Grail, her wish made and her father’s recovery all but assured. He was happy for his friend, after what she’d endured, she deserved a win and Taiyang was certainly a man who deserved to keep living. He could even applaud her choice to spare Blake, even as he approved of her decision _not_ to forgive her. His friends meant the world to him, as he knew they did to Yang as well. They’d fight to the death for them. So to have one of those same friends turn on them, well, he certainly didn’t have Nora’s compassion.

But even as he saw the blond brawler make the wish, he couldn’t help but wish it was him beseeching the chalice. He knew he was being selfish, and he hated himself for the impulse. It was only because of Blake’s betrayal and Lancer’s efforts to make amends that his family had wish at all. After all, there was no question that depleted as their energy was, Iskandar would have won if he and Arturia had fought.

But he desperately wanted to revive both his mother and Ruby. As it was, his mother could restore herself, accomplish the goal he and Mordred had strove for throughout the war, but his first friend would remain a blade.

He kicked himself in the shin. He was being stupid and selfish. The world wasn’t perfect, hell it was rarely ever fair, he’d experienced enough to know that. He would be granted one miracle with the return of his mother, he could not ask for more. Despite their losses, this was a happy ending.

Which made even more nervous when his mother hesitated, her open palm hovering just in front of the golden orb.

“Mom?” he asked. “Everything okay? You just need to touch it and say your wish, right?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Arturia said. “I’m just… debating what I should beseech from it.”

Jaune cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Wish for a new body. That’s been the plan, right? That’s what you want.”

“It is what I want. It is what I want more than anything in the world, to return to you, your sisters, to Nicholas,” Arturia murmured.

“Then do it,” Jaune encouraged. “It’s the miracle I fought for. It’s what Mordred died for.”

“It is.” A tear rolled down his mother’s eyes. “But, is it one I have a right to claim?”

Jaune felt frustration rising in his stomach. They’d given everything to bring her back. Mordred had given her life. Winter had given that and her body…

No. He forced down his emotional reaction, his childish petulance. This was his mother he was talking about. She knew all that. She wouldn’t be hesitating without good reason. He couldn’t lash out like an infant.

“Why would you not?” he calmly asked instead. “You are the King of Knights. I know you don’t like the title, but you promised Mordred you’d take it up again, help guide Remnant into a new age.”

“It is precisely because I am the King of Knights that I hesitate.”

Arturia’s borrowed hand rose to rest on Winter’s heart. “I am a Heroic Spirit. I have lived my life, become a being tied to the past. Though I would gladly return to the present and live for the future, if I form a new body, Winter will be left behind. A husk with a shattered soul, a fate worse than death. How can I be the King of Knights if I doom one who sacrificed so much for me, when I could choose to save them?”

Jaune couldn’t help but frown. “You want to use the wish to save her?”

“I want to live,” Arturia declared. “But I’m not sure if that is right.”

Jaune sighed. “Of course, it is. But, so is saving Winter. You’d think having two right choices would be more fun than having two wrong ones.”

“If only. Jaune, I—”

“Don’t,” Jaune held up his hand. “Mom, I get it. I really do. And I’m sure Mordred would too. She wanted you back, and you care about people. She wouldn’t judge you for being yourself and I’m not going to either.”

Arturia smiled at her son, tears trickling down her face. “Thank you, Jaune.”

“Indeed, a stirring speech.”

Jaune’s eyes widened and he whirled around to the source of the familiar arrogant voice. He just barely saw a tiny glass vial fly through the air, only for his mother to snag it into her palm.

“But, as I’ve said, the Grail should only be used for that which cannot be done without it,” Gilgamesh declared. “The mongrel’s cutting and tying may be an irritating obstacle for my treasure but repairing the Schnee’s soul is well within its power.”

“What?” Arturia glanced as the scrap of a green leaf within the glass vial before glaring at the golden man. “Why would you give me this?”

“So that you can be free to use the Grail to acquire a body—”

“Why?” Arturia repeated, Excalibur appearing in her hand. “What’s your game, King of Heroes?”

“No game, King of Knights,” Gilgamesh assured her. “Your ideals, the fierce unyielding devotion you hold to your beliefs, they forge you into a brilliant fire that will consume you if left alone. It is more beautiful than words can describe, but I would not see it burn you to ash quite yet.”

“So you can try to kidnap her again?” Jaune accused.

“I will never be yours,” Arturia growled.

Surprisingly, Gilgamesh shrugged, his face taking on a look melancholy regret. “Perhaps that is fine. Some stars… they are most beautiful when they are out of reach. A defiant woman, the company of a sibling or a friend…”

The King of Heroes shook his head and turned away, leaving his sentence unfinished. “Besides, if you have your own body, you will be able to use your scabbard to repair Xiao-Long’s arm.”

“Stop!” Jaune demanded. Surprisingly, the golden man actually did so. “You think you can cause all this chaos, this suffering, and just walk away? That you can just leave to come back and try to murder my family another day?”

“I have no intention of killing your siblings.”

“You don’t—what?” Jaune screeched. “What happened to all that talk about ‘tarnishing the legacy and value of your treasure’ or whatever crap that was?”

Gilgamesh’s crimson eyes narrowed. “Do not mistake my lenience, boy. Neither you nor any of your siblings have any hope of surpassing Saber’s legend. However, if the thief’s assistance to Ea and indeed, your own ascension as the Shield of Heroes proves anything, it is that something need not surpass its betters to be beautiful in its own right. If you have become such an interesting treasure, I have no doubt your sisters will be magnificent in their own time.”

“Lovely,” Arturia growled. “And Nicholas?”

The golden man frowned. “I… suppose since he had some… minor role in creating such potential, he can be forgiven for his trespass. If Ea has proven anything this day, it is that mercy, despite its price, also has its place.”

“And you’ve shown none until now,” Jaune snarled. “You’ve never cared who you’ve killed. This… this doesn’t change who you are.”

“Nothing ever could.”

“And that means you’re still my enemy,” Jaune declared. “If you ever try anything, ever again, against anyone. Then I don’t care how powerful you are. I will destroy you.”

That brought a smirk to Gilgamesh’s lips. “I would expect nothing less than for you to try. But, do not put such foolishness in your mind, Shield of Heroes. Not only would it be a waste of your beauty to die so at my hand, but it would be pointless. One way or another, I will be gone in five years.”

“You’ll be… what?” Jaune stuttered. That made no sense. Gilgamesh had no master, true, but he also had a physical body. He didn’t need any additional magical energy to remain in the world, so why would he disappear?

“What are you planning, King of Heroes?” Arturia inquired, her eyes narrowed.

Gilgamesh waved a hand and a golden portal materialized before him.

“I’m going to keep a promise.”

With that, he stepped into the gate and disappeared.

 

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All over the frontiers of Remnant, in forests, mountains, snow, or sand, smoke rose in gargantuan pillars from the ruins of dying villages. Mothers screamed they desperately fled the site of death, their children sheltered in their arms, their feet racing from the black death charging behind them baying for blood.

The Grimm.

It didn’t matter what type; any species was too powerful for someone without aura. Whether clawed, hoofed, or scaled, if their crimson eyes of evil locked onto you, only doom would follow. A living nightmare made manifest with a roar of malice, ready and eager to sink their fangs into your broken flesh and drain the blood they could not drink.

Without huntsmen, who often could not be found or afforded, all the innocent of Remnant, human or faunus, young or old, had to do was die.

Until one day, when a sheet of gold covered the sky. And from the shining firmament, descended an armory of blazing vengeance. Swords, axes, spears, hammers, flails, more weapons than most could name fell upon the hordes of darkness, tools of the finest make tearing the demons apart.

All across the world innocents tumbled to their knees in relief, their eyes wide and uncomprehending of the miracle that had just occurred before them.

But it was not a miracle. Just the best of a hero brought out by a simple soul. For the King’s people had more than proved their resilience and their worth. And their former sovereign saw no issue with giving them a hint of a reprieve. They would have to finish their foe off themselves, but he could grant them some aid.

As long as they spread the words he spoke, emanating through the golden sky like the gospel of a deity.

“Rejoice. For you have been saved by Ruby Rose.”


	94. What is Deserved

Oscar let out a long, exhausted sigh of relief, his body sinking deep into the blankets beneath as he laid down in his own bed for the first time in months. It’d been hours since Gilgamesh had portalled him back to the farm, a few days after he’d gotten everyone back to Atlas, but his aunt had alternating between shouting his ear off and smothering him with hugs since he’d returned, so he never really got a chance to really rest.

To think it was only a few months ago that he’d first heard Ozpin’s voice in his head, since he’d discovered he was the first mage since the time when the moon was whole. Back then, even with the wizard’s words, he never would have believed he’d be part of the team that put an end to the Grimm. Granted his contributions were minimal, but it was a good feeling to have been of some help.

Though, more and more he thought he should have stayed all the way until the end. When the rest of the masters and those who’d stayed with them had emerged at the Atlas and White Fang troops’ location, the mood between everyone had been far less jubilant than it had last been. He couldn’t tell exactly why, everyone seemed to be in good condition, Winter was even being helped to walk by her sister with a woman he recognized as the uncorrupted Arturia marching beside her protectively, her sword and scabbard shining like a star at her side. But Yang and Jaune kept shooting hateful glances towards Blake who merely looked away as if ashamed.

It was only once they reached Atlas that Gilgamesh had informed him of what wounds Avalon had healed. As well as what scars it would not help. And not just between the huntsmen. If word of a Belladonna betraying a human got out, and with the Grimm threat severely reduced, race relations between the two species would be shot.

It was probably why the troops were not informed of that detail, merely being told that the Grail had restored Arturia’s body. For the soldiers and terrorists who had witnessed Excalibur’s relentless defense of them during the battle with the Grimm, and were unaware that Excalibur Morgan had initially fired upon them, it was well-received news. The different factions, Atlas and White Fang, had forged the unlikeliest of connections through fighting side by side. Potentially, the beginnings of a new age of harmony, if the truth was never known.

Ironwood and Sienna got straight to discussing just that, neither one willing to let the end of the Age of Grimm lead into a new Faunus War. Whatever their alliances, whatever their sins, there needed to be some punishment for the crimes of the White Fang, but their entire species shouldn’t be made to pay for the actions of a few.

Oscar didn’t think he’d be much use on that front. For that matter, he didn’t think he’d be of much more use at all. While he was glad to have helped everyone and would gladly do so again, he was a farm boy. A mage, but a farm boy. He had no idea what to do on the stage of international politics and race relations. Heck, he wasn’t even sure Ironwood would be in office for long to help them, as the fact that he had returned not only with only a few hundred men out of the entire Atlesian Navy, but with a squadron of White Fang at his side had left his political rivals smelling blood.

Fortunately, having Gilgamesh on their side came with a great many advantages. Such as being able to be teleported home in an instant. So, after some short goodbyes with everyone (Nora had nearly broken his back with her hug) and promises to call as soon as the CCT was back online, he’d leapt through the Gate of Babylon back to Mistral.

Now, for the first time in weeks, he could finally get some sleep without the roar of Goliaths ringing through his ears and the mystical far from his mind—

“Aaaaahhhh!!!”

A golden portal depositing Weiss on his bedroom floor ruined any of those plans, as well as sent Oscar scrambling his back to the wall, his blankets left in a mess.

A moment later, Gilgamesh strutted out of the gateway, a pair of mahogany chairs inlaid with jewels falling out after him. He grinned his pearly white teeth at Oscar, the farm boy feeling like the world’s friendliest shark had just caught him in its sights.

“My apologies for our barging in, boy,” the golden man said, taking a seat. “But we only have five years to complete our work, so I felt it was necessary to get started as soon as possible.”

Oscar had no idea what was happening, but he able to keep enough of his wits about him to get off his bed and help Weiss to her feet.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she assured him, wincing as she rubbed her head. “Actually, compared to my mother’s grip for the last few hours, this was rather tame.”

Oscar cracked a smile. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

Weiss returned his grin and he helped her to her seat before plopping himself back on his own bed. Then, he set his gaze on the Heroic Spirit. “So, this work you mentioned, what the heck are you talking about?”

“Keeping my promise of course,” Gilgamesh replied, quickly informing them of exactly what said promise was. Suffice to say, his jaw was practically on the floor after hearing it.

His eyes shifted to Weiss. “Are you sure?”

The heiress nodded. “She’s my friend. My… my best friend. And I took so much from her. She didn’t give up on me. If there is any way to pay her back, I’m in.” She sent a side-eye towards Gilgamesh and frowned. “Even if it means working with him.”

The King of Heroes merely smirked, before flashing Oscar a more genuine smile. “Well, boy, what do you say? We’ve worked well together in the past. Why not continue our partnership?”

Oscar sighed. “No one gets hurt, right?”

“I would never cause her such anguish by having anyone die in her name.”

Oscar gulped. “Okay then. I’ll help.”

“Excellent,” Gilgamesh declared. “I’ve already taken to ensuring her legend will spread throughout the world. Combined with Ea’s prestige, it should be more than sufficient to get her to the Throne.”

“Ensuring her legend?”

“I slew every Grimm that was attacking anyone a few hours ago, about a third of the remaining population in total. The survivors were well informed about who they owed their lives to.”

It said something about their recent experiences that Oscar and Weiss barely reacted to that declaration. They’d just seen heroes of legend clash over an omnipotent wish-granting device and their friend sacrifice herself to obliterate the Grimm’s homeland. Finding out that one of those heroes of legend (for given value of hero) had taken out a large chunk of the remaining Grimm in a matter of hours was rather tame by comparison. Although…

“Why didn’t you just take out all of them?” Oscar inquired.

Gilgamesh glanced to Weiss and the white-haired huntress sighed. “Because Remnant’s entire economic, political, and sociological structure is built around the Grimm. Keeping the kingdoms safe, keeping the population happy to keep down negativity, training huntsmen to fight them, you name it. If they all disappeared overnight, the world would be thrown into chaos. Hell, as it is there is going to be a massive push for expansion from all the kingdoms. Atlas and Mistral might take a bit longer thanks to their military and huntsmen being depleted, but no one would pass up this opportunity for long.”

“Indeed,” the golden man agreed. “Of course, they will have to negotiate with Pine Irrigation to get the rights to the land.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Pine Irrigation? I am terrified to ask what you’ve done.”

“Nothing dramatic,” Gilgamesh assured him. “I merely created a land trading and development company, made a quick stop at a casino for the capital, and proceeded to purchase all the unsettled territory in each kingdom before the various governments could learn of new lack of Grimm and therefore skyrocket the price.”

“You did all this in a few hours?” Weiss asked incredulously.

“Well, technically not all the paperwork has gone through yet, but it will. I checked all possible futures to make sure of it.”

“… Okay,” Oscar muttered. “But why does _your_ company have _my_ name on it?”

“Because you’re a co-founder.”

“I am a hundred percent sure I did not ‘found’ anything.”

“We are partners now, boy,” Gilgamesh insisted. “Besides, I’ll need someone I can trust to run it once I’m gone.”

“I am a farmhand,” Oscar pointed out. “Even if I am one of the handful of people you trust, running any sort of company is a bit outside my area of expertise.”

“After all you’ve done, you still think yourself only so meager?” Gilgamesh laughed. “Nonetheless, I will be able to handle matters until my departure, so you’ll have five years to learn. We’ll be working closely with the Schnee Dust Company’s Applied Science Division on our little project, so you’ll have ample opportunity to observe the best.”

Weiss cocked an eyebrow. “The SDC doesn’t have an applied science division.”

“Not at the moment, no,” Gilgamesh declared with a smirk. “Though, science may be a technically inaccurate term for what it will be studying.”

Oscar sighed. He’d just gotten home and already he was being offered the chance to become one of the richest men on Remnant, for what felt like no effort on his part. For anyone else, heck even for himself a year ago, it probably would have been a dream come true. But he didn’t feel like he’d earned this. Everyone else had given blood and sweat for the victory over Salem, some even sacrificing everything. He’d had Ozpin to hold his hand initially, then he’d gotten captured, lost Ozpin, and escaped the castle with Gilgamesh before reuniting him with Ruby, and he still wasn’t sure if that was the right choice or not. He hadn’t been some great hero; he’d just done what he could when he could.

But that was all he could ever do. Like Weiss had said, even if the kingdoms were exhausted, people would seize the newly Grimm-free land available. And they had no guarantee if those people would be fair in their dealings with it or if they would be like that Little Miss Malachite crime boss he’d heard about and use them to set up their own black-market kingdom. No matter if he didn’t feel ready or not, with Weiss’ family helping him, he could do some real good, get the new era of the world off to a positive start.

Ruby deserved to return to a world in the midst of a golden age. And if he could give her that, then it was his responsibility to do so.

 

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Ironwood whistled as he marched down the dark prison hall, a newspaper under his arm. He tipped his dress cap to the guards, who smiled back at their commanding officer.

Well, commanding officer for the meantime.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at the cell he was searching for, a crimson energy barrier flickering over the exercising tiger faunus within. When Sienna caught sight of him, she leapt out of her push-up and sauntered over to the door, her bright orange jumpsuit the only thing that made her visible in the dark cell.

“You’re here without an escort,” she noted. “And in full dress uniform. I guess they haven’t managed to oust you just yet.”

“Only a matter of time,” he remarked, far more chipper than one should have been when discussing their impending firing. “Public outcry hasn’t abated.”

Returning with barely any of his fleet after only giving the Council the slimmest of details about his mission had not gone over well, with his political opponents or the families of the soldiers who’d died. Having the leader of the White Fang at his side and making claims that they’d wiped out the Grimm’s reproduction ability hadn’t made him seen more credible. Calls to have him dishonorably discharged and have every faunus in Atlas strung up had sprung up before he’d even walked into the council chambers. Winter and Weiss had contacted Crystal to get the full force of the SDC’s connections behind him (which the former Winter Maiden got to only after nearly crushing both her daughters in a hug), and Arturia’s Charisma had swayed some minds that the sacrifice had been worth it. Still, the story of a Queen of the Grimm, magic and monsters had been a bit much for the public to swallow and it had looked like he’d be out of office within the week.

Then Gilgamesh’s little worldwide display had pretty much blown the roof off the masquerade and the public, while still not very forgiving, was desperate to keep somebody with experience dealing with the mystical in a position of power. If the Grimm weren’t in disarray themselves, they probably would have swarmed over the kingdoms from the terror.

Of course, over time things had quieted down. The revelation that yes, the Grimm had been dealt a blow they would never recover from had sunken in and there was much excitement among the populace. Those who mourned still did so, but the tangible evidence that the sacrifice hadn’t been in vain had led to rush for creating new settlements now that expansions like Mountain Glenn and Kuroyuri were no longer fool’s endeavors. With the state the kingdoms’ governments were in, the mad rush might have led to disaster. Except, strangely enough, most of the land had already been purchased from the councils, the claims filed and on record, but one Pines Irrigation.

Ironwood had no idea how Oscar and Gilgamesh had managed it, or why those two of all people had ended up working together, but he wasn’t going to complain about the land rush being kept a strictly private sector endeavor.

“Really?” Sienna inquired. “Even though you brought in the most infamous terrorist in Atlas history?”

The general chuckled. It had been the best they could manage. The White Fang had been just as depleted by the battle in the Grimmlands as Atlas’ forces, if on a smaller scale since they had fewer troops with to begin with. And the survivors had apparently struck up the closest thing to friendship Ironwood had ever seen any faunus show towards his troops, the shared march to hell and back providing at the very least a mutual respect. With the news that the terrorists had assisted in defeating Salem, and the omission of the events surrounding the Grail, a new age of harmony could be on the horizon. So long as the grudges of the past were put to rest.

After Crystal had made certain promises about reversing the majority of her late husband’s policies, Sienna had bargained her own deal. Life in prison for her, to pay for the crimes of the organization she’d turned to violence, in exchange for the rest of her troops being forgiven. Ilia had protested, declaring that what had happened at the Grail was her fault and that she should pay instead of her leader. But the tiger faunus had dissuaded her, claiming that her choices had sculpted Ilia, Adam, and those like them. Her way of thinking, no matter how well-intended, could not survive into the new age. Not if it was to be an era of peace.

Ironwood had spent years combating Sienna, playing an intricate game of chess as he hounded her for her war on humanity. He’d always respected her ability, keeping the White Fang out of his reach even with all the resources at his disposal. In the battle in the Grimmlands, fighting side by side and then one on one, he’d come to respect her tenacity. But sacrificing herself for her subordinates, so the children she’d raised could go on to be better than her, that he could admire, as both a general and a teacher.

Which is how he’d found himself dropping by to talk every few months. In the year since it had begun, he could safely say it was a tradition he was fond of.

He tapped a few keys on a nearby padlock and a small rectangle hole opened up in the energy barrier. He tossed the newspaper through the empty air, the barrier closing right after it went through.

Sienna picked up the paper, her brow scrunching at the headline. “Golden Day? Please tell this wasn’t your idea.”

“Nope. Not even his, surprisingly,” Ironwood remarked. “But the council of Mistral proposed it and the others felt it wasn’t a bad idea. A yearly celebration to remember the victory we won despite how impossible it seemed and remember all who gave everything to get us here, human and faunus. And hopefully, when we’ve finally finished the job, remind future generations how lucky they are to have never known the Grimm.”

“A generation without Grimm,” Sienna mused wistfully. “It really is a new age we’re entering. A brave new world. Though I’m not sure why you thought to bring the paper. You could have just told me.”

Ironwood smirked. “Read the article.”

Sienna cocked an eyebrow, but did so. “Veteran of the Battle of the Grimmlands and newly elected Vale Councilwoman Arturia Arc welcomes representatives from all five kingdoms to Vytal for the inaugural celebration…” the former terrorist’s eyes widened, looking to the general in disbelief and fearful hope. “James, is this…”

Ironwood nodded. “All _five_ kingdoms. Took some work on Arturia and Crystal’s end, but all the other councils have officially recognized Menagerie as an equal state. It still isn’t perfect, racism and stupidity will always find some way to endure, but Wukong Academy has opened its doors and will be graduating its first class in a few years.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Sienna grinned. “So, who’s the poor sap they stuck teaching the brats?”

Ironwood cringed. “Yeah… so, Ghira thought it would be best for Menagerie’s academy to have a faunus headmaster…”

“That makes sense,” Sienna nodded. “Like it or not, that is our national identity at the moment. Having a few human teachers would show our solidarity with the world but having one as headmaster would imply weakness.”

“Exactly, but when he reached out, none of the few remaining established faunus huntsmen were willing to take the job, most of them living in other kingdoms and all.”

Sienna narrowed her eyes. “James, who did they get?”

 

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What the actual fuck was she doing?

Blake knew Vernal hadn’t exactly bothered to learn Menagerie’s laws when she’d agreed to be Wukong Academy’s combat instructor, but she had to know that she wasn’t allowed to bring her homemade alcohol to the end of year ceremony, even less to share it around with their _underage_ students.

The headmistress sighed, continuing to cringe as her lieutenant started having their student cheer her into a keg stand. At least they were keeping it to the lower levels.

Wukong Academy was built around an ancient temple of a civilization long dead, formerly so near the Grimm infested wastes of the island that her father wouldn’t risk the men to occupy it. But with the creatures of darkness reduced as they were, and both the SDC and Pine Irrigation generously providing modern fortifications, the three-story stone temple had proved more than adequate as the new huntsmen training school, a marble statue of its namesake grinning in the middle of the central courtyard.

The knowledge that Sun would always be remembered brought a smile to Blake’s face, but it also made her shame all the worse. Why was the boy she might have loved, a kind, gentle soul dead, while she, the pathetic, wretched _thing_ that she was not only still alive but in a position of power?

Of course, she understood the practical aspects of it. Though she was barely older than the students she was teaching, her experience as Adam’s lieutenant in the White Fang had left her capable of the actual running of the school, logistics were just as infuriating for education as they were for terrorism, and her reputation as one of the masters of the Holy Grail War, with her failure at the end omitted, gave her the prestige necessary for the position. Not to mention that as the daughter of the chieftain of Menagerie and the last peaceful leader of the White Fang, her appointment sent a message to the rest of the world that the faunus were joining the global stage with friendship in mind.

But she could not accept it. She had told Yang to kill her if she liked because she didn’t want her old partner to feel any guilt for what she was sure she’d do anyway. She shouldn’t have lost any sleep over someone as pathetic as her. But Yang had spared her and the act taking place outside the borders of any kingdom, as well as the political repercussions of imprisoning a Belladonna when they were trying to establish peace in the new age, had kept her from any official punishment.

And she despised all of it. The realpolitik that kept her from punishment, the propaganda that required her to be given even more power, the sacred sheath that had healed her burns without consequence, and, most of all, herself. A disgusting thing like her shouldn’t have survived while Sun was dead, and Sienna was imprisoned. Her responsibilities even kept her from checking into a mental hospital like Ilia had. Or perhaps it was simply because while the chameleon faunus had been completely warped by Lancer’s curse, Blake had understood exactly what she’d done.

“Professor Belladonna? Are you alright?”

Blake shook her head, turning back in from the second-floor balcony as she realized she had been drifting off. Before her, Winter frowned concernedly, the specialist in full military dress uniform despite the Menagerie heat. The white-haired woman followed her line of sight, her face falling at the cacophony of Vernal’s actions below. “She could at least try to show some decorum. The completion of the academy’s first year is an important occasion.”

“She brought her homemade stock instead of going to the store,” Blake explained. “I believe she thinks she’s spoiling the kids.”

“Of course,” Winter noted. “From what I saw at the ceremonial duels, it seems she’s done quite a good job teaching them. Though, I still worry for their moral character.”

Blake shrugged. “She isn’t any worse than me. If this place is going to be part of a new beginning, it might as well have some redemption to it.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you seek, Blake? Redemption?”

“No,” Blake snorted. “What I’ve done can’t be forgiven.”

The specialist sighed. “If you say so.”

The pair turned around and walked back into the banquet, prominent figures from all the kingdoms willing about drinking flutes of champagne and snacking on bite-sized appetizers carried around by suited waiters. Business moguls and political figures who once upon a time had barely acknowledged Menagerie existed now stood celebrating its strides.

Of course, most of them hadn’t suddenly changed their minds out of the goodness of their heart. No, anyone who survived in their world long enough to have power could smell where the wind blew, and with Arturia, the newly elected rising star of the Vale Council, and Oscar, the prodigy land tycoon who’d become one of the most powerful men on Remnant seemingly overnight, currently present and giving the academy their full support along with the Schnee family, it was obvious which side of history the elite of society wanted to be on.

Once upon a time, Blake would have felt disgusted at accepting aid from any of them. But at present, she could hardly complain. She was worse than any of them after all.

“So, I’ve been hearing rumors that you’re up for the generalship of Atlas,” Blake said, just trying to make conversation. “Youngest in history, right?”

Winter frowned. “It isn’t right. General Ironwood is still perfectly fit for duty.”

“But the public won’t be denied any longer. Even in victory, they want someone to blame. It’s incredible he’s held out for this long.”

“True. But even mother’s influence can’t keep the council at bay any longer.”

Blake shrugged. “Well, at least he’ll have a worthy successor. We’ll all need someone we can trust at the head, especially with that new Mystical Division starting up. If the wrong person ends up in charge, it could end up like one of Merlot or Watts’ science experiments.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed. “I will not let that happen.”

“Which is why we need you in the job.”

“There you two are!”

Blake and Winter both whirled around as Weiss approached from the rear, nearly out of breath.

The specialist smirked at her sister. “Finally got the little one to sleep?”

“Kali did,” Weiss panted. “Blake, your mother is a godsend.”

“That she is,” the cat faunus agreed. “Did her tonic help with… you know…”

“The nightmares?” Weiss finished, frowning sadly. “Did they help with yours?”

“No.”

“Same.”

Both of the women had found that leaving the Grail War behind was not as simple as leaving the battlefield. Even before Setenta had been born, during the first year after the battle, Weiss had barely been able to get through a night without waking up in sweat, sometimes calling Blake since the different time zones meant she would be awake unlike everyone in Atlas.

Which was good, because even now, Blake couldn’t last a night without seeing Gambol Shroud headed for Yang, her lungs burning as she desperately tried to stop herself, to call out for her partner to dodge. Anything to prevent her greatest mistake.

Winter placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “Both of you have been through a horrible experience. But it is over.”

“Doesn’t feel over,” Weiss murmured. “It won’t be over until I finish the project.”

Winter pulled her sister in close. “Whether Gilgamesh’s scheme succeeds or not, even if you never raise Myrtenaster again, we’ve won a great victory. The world is still here and thriving in ways we could not have imagined even half a decade ago. Your generation and the generation you train may be the last to ever know the Grimm. It will not be perfect, nothing ever is, but there is a great deal better than it was before. Focus on the good, and you will find there is more to be happy about than you thought.”

“I don’t deserve to be happy,” Blake whispered, careful not to allow any of the socialites overhear and perhaps break the careful façade they’d crafted. “Everything I did… history paints me as a hero but it’s a lie.”

Winter looked down, seemingly without a response.

Ironically enough, Weiss did. “We fought the war for lies. Salem wanted a world with only truth, where humanity could only accept the darkness within. But lies… can help us. They’re not a permanent solution, but they can buy us time to make one. Lies are the stars that guide us to make a better truth for ourselves. Without them… we’d only have a black sky.”

The white-haired woman pulled Blake into a hug. “We’ve lied to the world about us both. But you’re still lying to yourself too. I’m not saying what you did was right, but I know better than anyone what it’s like to have a mystical force influencing your actions. I couldn’t stop myself, but you… even at the height of Diarmuid’s curse, you still refused to kill Yang and Jaune, even for the sake of your entire race. You made a mistake under impossible circumstances, but that doesn’t make you a monster.”

“It doesn’t make me good, either,” Blake muttered. “There is a reason the others didn’t come here today.”

Both Weiss and Winter cringed, but they needn’t have felt offended. The only times Blake had seen Yang and Jaune over the past two years was when they all invited to the same functions, like Weiss or Nora’s baby showers, and the two had made their feelings towards her quite clear. Both of them valued personal loyalty above all, sticking by their friends until the very end. Her choice, especially for Yang, cut deeper for them than for everyone else. Her father had still insisted they send them both invitations to the ceremony, but Blake was worried they’d only be insulted by the gesture.

They had every right to be furious with her. She would always hold out a hand, praying for reconciliation, but she held no illusions about the chance of receiving it. Their hatred was what she deserved.

But in the meantime, she would keep going. No matter her own distaste for her current self, things were the way they were, for the sake of peace and equality. Whatever her and Diarmuid’s doubts about how they were to make a better world, both of them desired to. Her sins had failed to help anyone… so maybe by training her students, by teaching them to avoid her mistakes, to be better than she ever was… that was how she could help.

As Yang had said, she owed her life to Ruby. So, in her leader’s name, she would do whatever good she could in her life. If it could not be by her own hand, then she would help prepare the next generation to do what she never could.

“You know,” Weiss awkwardly spoke, rousing Blake once more from her self-loathing introspection. “Nora and Ren would have come, it’s just—”

“What? Oh, please,” Blake brushed off easily, a playful smirk rising to her face for the first time that day. “I don’t expect a woman nine months pregnant to leave the house, let alone Mistral itself.”

“Indeed,” Winter grinned, elbowing her sister. “I seem to remember someone demanding Oscar and Gilgamesh stop working so they could get her baby back ribs covered in pickles.”

“It was one time,” Weiss protested.

“Only because Gilgamesh decided that it happening again would cause too much of a delay and used his future sight to stock the Gate of Babylon with whatever else you’d crave. Which included more greasy meat than I believe a Schnee has ever eaten.”

Weiss pouted. “Oh, shut up. It’s not it’s anything compared to what Nora’s been craving.”

“Really?” Blake inquired. “And what has the Queen of Haven been demanding?”

“Waffles.”

Blake paled. Coming from Nora, that was terrifying. Hell, she needed to tell Vernal to up their students' combat training. For all they knew, the apocalypse would be coming back for round two.

 

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“You call that a slash! My babies could do better than that! Just look at those adorable little arms! Oh, aren’t you two just the cutest? Yes, you are! Oh, yes you are!”

Jaune had seen Nora go through a lot of rapid mood shifts before, but he had to admit that switching between kicking Amber’s butt in the training ring one second and fawning over her children in a stroller on the sidelines was a bit extreme even for his experience. Though, his sister had wanted to go to huntsmen academy early, so he supposed it was good that she was getting a taste of the insanity their line of work led one to.

It was hard to believe that three years had passed since he’d gotten his mother back, since they’d returned to their family, world newly saved. There had been more hugs, crying, and, between his parents, kissing, than he could ever recall his sisters ever indulging in, only really slowing down when Lavender had started getting short of breath from it all. After that, they’d settled down for family dinner, plans to return to Vale set aside for the evening, as they toasted mom’s return and Mordred’s sacrifice, any thoughts of their sibling’s sordid past absent from their minds.

That said, it was not that his fallen Servant hadn’t had an impact on the family. Amber for one was determined to become a huntress to honor the sibling she hadn’t taken the chance to connect with in life. Mom and dad, having learned from his own determination on the subject, had decided to put the girl through the full paces of a Knight of the Round Table, dad handling the training when mom was busy with political matters, honoring her own promise to Mordred to not leave the new era without a King of Knights.

Despite being exhausted more often than not, Amber had proved herself to be a prime candidate for the path, with a larger aura reserve than even him and combat skills to rival Ruby’s when she first entered Beacon. As expected, this had led her to inquire about early entrance similar to the red reaper, and though she didn’t manage it at fifteen, she did manage to impress Ren enough to give her a tryout at sixteen.

Said tryout had consisted of going up against Nora, Haven’s youngest ever combat instructor and a far more experienced warrior, so of course she’d gotten her butt handed to her. But there was more to a fight than just the winner, and Amber had been adapting to her opponent with each match, actually making the veteran put in some small amount of effort, despite Nora’s demeaning boasts.

Jaune turned to Ren, who was observing the spar with his usual calm smile, sometimes sparing a glance down to the stroller in his hands to smile at his redheaded infants, little Pyrrha and Mordred giggling at their father’s subtle expression as much as their mother’s extravagant displays, as if they could understand a private joke hidden behind his impassive façade.

Unfortunately, despite his best efforts through their many years of friendship, Jaune was not that good at reading his friend. It must have just been one of those family bond things, or a genetic Valkyrie trait.

“So, what do you think of her?” Jaune inquired.

“She’s very good. Easily at the level of a first-year,” Ren remarked. “Though, I am a bit curious why she wants to study here instead of at Beacon. Putting aside the fact that we’ve only just finished rebuilding, she’ll be away from her family here.”

“Well for one, Professor Goodwitch wouldn’t go for it if we asked,” Jaune replied. Beacon’s new headmistress was far more adherent to the rules then Ozpin had ever been, “But, I’m pretty sure it might be to make sure no one can accuse her of getting special treatment because of mom. Besides, if worst comes to worst and she needs us, Sapphire is only a train ride away in Argus.”

“Of course. How are she and Terra doing anyway?”

“Great. They actually just adopted a kid named Adrian from the Shield’s orphanage.”

“Wonderful.”

Jaune shared his friend’s joy. Not just because he had a new nephew, but because it was proof that his efforts since the war were making a difference. While Mistral had been eager enough to restock its annihilated huntsmen population that the council hired Ren and Nora to head the rebuilt Haven, whose war hero status kept up the appearance that the kingdom had things well in hand, he had decided that academia wasn’t for him. He hadn’t even gotten into Beacon on his own merit in the first place, though he likely would now as the honorary huntsmen license, he and the others had been awarded spoke to. No, he belonged on the front, fighting the good fight. He and Yang had spent a few years on the Vale frontier together protecting emerging towns and cities from the remaining Grimm.

But, in his heart, he didn’t feel he was doing all he could. And then, after a long night musing on the people who’d helped him get where he was, he’d discovered his next course of action and founded the Silver Shield, a humanitarian organization dedicated to protecting the families and livelihood of huntsmen, both living and dead. His mother had felt it was an excellent idea and with her support, it was soon operational throughout Vale, with Oscar and Crystal Schnee providing additional support to launch their services all over Remnant. If a huntress was hospitalized defending a town, the Shield would pay their medical bills. If a huntsman perished in the line of duty, the Shield would provide for their family. And if the worst should happen and the children of huntsmen were left orphans, just as Adrian was, the Shield would take them in and hopefully find them new loving homes.

To protect the guardians of the world and all they loved. That was the duty of the Shield of Heroes, as was taught him by Pyrrha, his mother, Mordred, Archer… and Ruby. He didn’t need glory. He didn’t need a crown. He had set out from Ansel to be a huntsman, a hero. Thanks to all his teachers, he felt he had succeeded.

Though, the work was far from done.

Ren’s smile disappeared, replaced with a concerned frown. “Has Yang gotten back to you about the mission in the south? Was it really just a Grimm?”

Jaune shook his head, recalling the images of rotting flesh and living corpses writhing in darkness Yang had sent him. “No. You were right. It was something else. Something… worse.”

“Lovely,” Ren growled. “Gilgamesh warned us they would return.”

“Lots of dark things hid when Salem rose,” Jaune noted. “Now that she’s gone and the world’s starting to get back to normal mystically speaking, Gaea returning and Alaya healing and all, they’re starting to creep out of the shadows. And that’s not even getting into the larger effects. Oscar’s already found out about a handful of kids born with magic circuits. He’s thinking about approaching the families about teaching them magecraft, just to make sure they don’t blow anything up by accident.”

“Lovely,” Ren murmured. “And these dark things, these Dead Apostles, can we handle them?”

Jaune shrugged. “According to Gilgamesh, yes. He’ll keep us apprised of where they’re active, and as long as we know that, we can let our teams know how to fight them. Even then, unless one of their Ancestors show up, those are the super-powerful ones I think, me, Yang, and mom shouldn’t have much trouble with them.”

The Haven headmaster nodded. “Good to know. Having a man with omniscience on our side is quite helpful. Gods know how will handle this stuff when he’s gone.”

Jaune frowned. “He’s making sure not that we’re not dependent on him. We’ll be just fine. Besides, if he wasn’t going to keep his promise, I would kill him myself.”

“You mean try, and likely die, right?”

“Yes. I’m not an idiot, Ren. I am perfectly aware that he could still squash all of us like flies.”

“Just making sure. I don’t want the girls to lose their godfather just yet,” Ren teased, drawing a smile back to his friend’s lips. “It’s going to work, Jaune. We’ve all been doing all we can, and Gilgamesh can do a great deal.”

Jaune sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

Three years and he’d moved on, moved forward, as he had to.

But if he could get his best friend back… well, that would certainly be a miracle.

 

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Yang knelt and laid a bouquet of roses at each of the three graves before her.

_Summer Rose. “Thus kindly I scatter.”_

_Qrow Branwen. “Our good luck charm.”_

_Raven Branwen. “For a brighter sky.”_

A smile crossed the blond huntress’ lips, her hand reaching up to touch the white cloth adorning her hair, the remains of Summer’s cloak acquired from Gilgamesh and worn in the style of Raven’s headdress. Her way of honoring both her mothers, of knowing they were always with her.

She had her uncle’s flask too, but she figured he wouldn’t want her indulging in that too much.

Her father strode up beside her, a soft, wistful grin flashing across his face. “It’s been four years. Are you sure we shouldn’t add one for Ruby?”

“Gilgamesh said he’d need five to do it. We’ll give him that time,” Yang said. “Iskandar always said he was too arrogant to lie.”

Taiyang sighed. “Alright. So, should we dig in?”

Yang grinned, turning around to the sight of their picnic blanket, a feast of sandwiches laid across the crimson cloth, Zwei already digging into his own meal.

Both of the Xiao-Longs had been quite busy since the war, a consequence of both of them being known to have survived encounters with Servants and being the family of the legendary Ruby Rose. Taiyang was offered the headmaster position once he returned to Signal, though he turned it down since the current one hadn’t actually done anything wrong. The school board just wanted to capitalize on the secondhand fame. Still, there had been a massive influx of students when it became known Ruby was an alumni, the classes nearly doubling in size.

As for Yang herself, she’d needed to get her mind off the events in the Grimmlands and there were plenty of Grimm to hunt. It could hardly be called a thrill anymore, given she was the third most powerful person on the planet behind Gilgamesh and Arturia, but it was good work and gave her an outlet for her fury. She and Jaune had spent years protecting up and coming cities on the Vale frontier, sweeping aside hordes of Beowolves and quashing Goliaths like bugs. Even handled a few of those Dead Apostles when they popped up, wherever they were coming from.

That said, she’d learned enough from Iskandar to know that there was no point in being in the world if she was just going to shut herself in fighting. Her dream was to live, and she wouldn’t let Blake’s treachery take that from her. Weiss and Nora’s baby showers, Ren and Nora’s wedding, Arturia’s campaign parties, she made sure to attend every important event in her friends’ lives she could. Not to mention her monthly video game nights with dad and his buddies. Seriously, how the hell did Iskandar beat Port at _Kingdoms of Remnant_? The guy’s stories might actually have been true if he fought like he played.

But her most treasured tradition of all was her and dad’s annual trip and picnic to the family graves. They’d bask in the sunset, eating strawberries and cookies, and just be together. Father, daughter, and dog, all happy and healthy. The thing had Yang had sought a miracle for had truly come about. And once Gilgamesh kept his promise, it would be even better.

“So, how have things been in Mountain Glenn?” her father inquired, nibbling on a chicken sandwich. “Any frontier towns called in about some ancient Grimm that’s woken up from its slumber?”

“Not for the last few months,” Yang replied. She bit a chocolate chip cookie in two and gave Zwei a scratch behind the ears. “If the Grimm have any big guns left to throw at us, then they’re sleeping _real_ deep. How about you? Anybody at Signal shaping up to be the great huntsman of tomorrow?”

“A few. One girl, Nikki Lilac, she’s gonna go far. Loves a good scrap and can handle herself with the best of them. Actually reminds me of you and Ruby a bit.”

“Sweet. She heading to Beacon next year?”

“Wukong actually. She thinks she’ll find stronger Grimm out in the wastes… oh, sorry.”

Zwei let out a worried whine, Yang’s right hand frozen in his fur, her eyes narrowing at the appendage. It wasn’t the original, that one still bore her Command Seals in the Gate of Babylon, locked away for safekeeping. Avalon had granted her a perfect replacement almost immediately after, everything on the outside appearing as if she was never dismembered in the first place.

But she knew. She remembered the sting of her partner’s blade as it sheared through her flesh and bone. She could not forget, even after all these years.

“It’s fine,” she lied. “I’m sure Blake will teach the kid well.”

Her father hesitantly nodded. “I’m sure. From what I’ve heard from my friends in the field, the ones she’s trained are as good as anyone from the other academies.”

“Good. They’ll do well then.”

Taiyang stared at her for a few solid moments before sighing. “Gods damn it, this is one of those times when I wish being a parent came with an instruction manual.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-two, dad. If you’ve got something to say, I can hear it.”

“I know that but… it’s just… I’m not sure how to say it without coming off as a jerk.”

“You think I should forgive Blake,” Yang shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Weiss and Nora have both said their pieces on it more than once. I’m not gonna hate you for throwing your hat in the ring. Even if, just like them, you’re wrong.”

“Maybe I am. I’m not going to say you don’t have ample reason,” her father said. “But the fact is that you travel in the same circles. You’re going to see each other again, over and over. The time might come when you have to work together for a job.”

“I am never working with her again,” Yang growled. “Do you have any plans on forgiving Gilgamesh?”

“No, but Gilgamesh was also never my best friend nor was he under the influence of a mystical curse when he killed Summer,” Taiyang pointed out. “Not to mention, as you said, he’ll be dead in a year. Huntresses don’t have the best life expectancy, but I don’t think Blake will be dying any time soon.”

“So what? I give in just because she’s still there?” Yang countered. “All my life, ever since we lost mom, I’ve been terrified of being alone. I was afraid that my friends would choose their dreams over me and I was right. Maybe it’s petulant, maybe it's childish, but for the first time ever, I think I know the truth. I don’t need to go chasing after everyone who should be by my side.”

“You shouldn’t. Like I said, you have more than ample reason to hold a grudge,” Tai agreed. The blond huntsman turned and stared at Raven’s grave with sorrowful eyes, an exhausted sigh leaving his lips. “There’s a lot to be debated about whether people’s intentions can make their actions forgivable. Raven did a lot of harm to our family, but she did it all because she thought it was the only way to save us and the entire world. And in a way, she was right. Without Ruby, there is a good chance Salem couldn’t have been defeated. Blake, under the effects of a curse that drives most people insane, thought the only way to save her people was to turn against you, and even then, she refused to kill you or Jaune. Was she right? No. But ultimately, it was a mistake made with the best intentions. Whether that’s enough, well, that’s something only you can decide. But even if you two will never be as close as you once were, holding a grudge won’t help either of you.”

Yang frowned but said nothing. She was well aware that logically the only difference between Raven and Blake’s actions were that the former’s happened to turn out well in the end, through circumstances no one could have predicted.

But she’d never been great at running on logic. Her feelings on Raven were muddied by her guilt over her role in the woman’s demise, not to mention a decade of misplaced longing and finally learning how much her mother cared for her from the Relic of Knowledge. Meanwhile, Blake had been her best friend, the first person outside her family she’d opened up to about her quest for Raven, the partner who’d gotten her out of Beacon alive, saved her from Ilia, and pushed the hardest to find a way to save Weiss even when she and Ruby had lost hope. And then she’d sliced off her arm and sneak attacked her Servant. In the context of the war, it may have been the only possible strategy she had, but it still felt like a betrayal of everything that they had built.

Raven had made her mistake, and then Yang had grown to love her, to forgive her. She had loved Blake, and then been betrayed. It was a subtle difference, but one that left a coursing, cold venom in the Spring Maiden’s heart. She was fully aware that she _could_ forgive her old partner.

But she did not _want_ to. Gilgamesh had said that forgiveness was an act of mercy, of kindness, but she did not want to be kind to Blake. For four years she’d held onto her anger, kept it close like a warm fire, keeping her burning in Ruby’s absence, unwilling to let the mistake lie.

But, where would that get her? In one year, Ruby would return. What would happen when she found the team she had given everything to save shattered? What would become of Yang, nursing her hatred for Blake’s error while knowing full well of those she made herself on the matters of Raven and Ea’s identity, without a curse affecting her judgment. Perhaps she had ample reason for fury, but had it done her any good?

Was forgiveness just a kindness to Blake?

 

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Gilgamesh, garbed in a black jacket and a casual white shirt, stoically looked over the workshop, a sturdy steel Pine Irrigation warehouse. A complex, multi-facet magic circle was engraved into the stone floor, exactly three meters in diameter. The carving was laced with precious gems that were melted down to liquid and then poured into the lining like a mold, afterward being filled with _prana_ specially stored for the ritual. At the edges of the laboratory, cutting edge technological monitoring stations ensured them would know when the conditions were perfect.

Five years had passed to the to the day. In a few hours, he would keep his promise.

Oscar came up beside him, the boyish farm hand having long been replaced by a youthfully handsome young man, his filthy work clothes replaced by a long emerald coat and professional but practical black pants. In his hands was a cane similar to the one Ozpin had trained him with, only instead of the complex mechanism of the huntsman headmaster, his was crowned by a polished green jewel filled with magical energy.

The sight of him brought a small smile to Gilgamesh’s lips. If nothing else, the half a decade he’d had to remain on Remnant had allowed him to craft one more leader for the kingdoms, both in their business world and their slowly returning mystical world. Already, there were four up and coming mages being tutored by the young man and if all went well, they wouldn’t be nearly as psychotic as the old breed had been. A useful improvement to the world Ea would return to.

“Everything seems to be in order. There is a bit of fluctuating in the magical energy levels, but nothing that isn’t within our expected parameters,” Oscar reported. “As soon as the others get here, we can begin.”

“Good,” Gilgamesh declared. “We could have done it already if they had agreed to be brought through the Gate of Babylon.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “They wanted to have their own rides on hand. After all, it’s not like you’re going to be around to send them back—”

He was cut off when a line of white glyphs lit up along the floor from the door to Gilgamesh, a small blur of blue and silver dashing over the glowing sigils. To anyone else, it might have appeared they were under attack, but Gilgamesh was more than familiar with the game being played.

With a flick of his wrist, he was soon glaring down at a white-haired toddler with excited crimson eyes, the young boy held up by the front of his shirt collar.

“Heh,” four-year-old Setenta Schnee chuckled, a wolfish smirk on his face. “I nearly got you there, Uncle Gil. Soon you’ll never be able to see me coming.”

“Impudent mutt,” Gilgamesh growled. “I tired of your antics long ago and this day above all, they are unwelcome. Did your mother not command you to stop?”

The child suddenly averted his eyes in the way only one in violation of a parent’s law could do. “Not… exactly that. She said I couldn’t whack your armor with my stick anymore, but since you’re not wearing your armor and my stick broke last time, that means it’s okay.”

“It is not,” Weiss declared, emerging from the doorway in an elegant dark blue dress with a stern glare for her son. “I also said you could only come say your goodbyes if you were on your best behavior.”

Setenta frowned. “Sorry, mama.”

Weiss sighed, but shot Gilgamesh a significant look. The golden man lowered the quarter-god down to the ground.

“So how long are you going to be gone?” Setenta inquired. “Is it some place the Gate can’t reach? Is there even a place like that?”

“Not many, but they do exist,” Gilgamesh replied. “The place your father currently resides is one of them. That is where I will be going.”

“Really? But my dad is…” Setenta’s face fell, realization dawning. Liquid began to well in his crimson eyes.

“Do not cry, boy. You may be the mutt of a dog, but your mother has far enough nobility for you both,” Gilgamesh commanded. He raised his hand to the side, a golden portal opening above his palm. A blood-red spear covered in runes descended into his grip. “Master this with her grace instead of your father’s bloodlust.”

He tossed the spear into Setenta’s grip, the toddler amazingly able to carry the hefty polearm. Though with his divine ancestry and unlocked aura, perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The young boy stifled his tears and nodded determinedly at Gilgamesh.

The golden man smiled. The original Gae Bolg would serve him well when he was grown.

Weiss kneeled down to her son’s level and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie, mommy and your uncles have to get ready for the ritual. How about you go find Penelope and greet the others?”

Setenta stifled his sniffles and nodded. “Got it, mama. Stupid robot probably wouldn’t be able to figure out how the doors open without me.”

Weiss smiled and kissed him on the cheek before the little boy rushed off into the hall. As soon as he was out of sight however, she stood back up and frowned. “Did you really just give my four-year-old a Noble Phantasm?”

“He can handle it,” Gilgamesh shrugged. “Or he will. With that spear, the true power lies in the techniques rather than the weapon itself. He will need to train a great deal to rise to his father’s skill with it.”

“He is four and you just gave him a lethal weapon.”

“Confiscate it later if you wish. But there is a reason I am his favorite babysitter.”

“That’s because Penelope actually listens when I tell her not to let him have sweets before dinner!”

“Okay,” Oscar intervened, stepping between the two of them. “Let’s table this conversation until after the magic ritual, sound good?”

“He isn’t going to be here after the ritual. This is my last chance to ream him out,” Weiss protested. “And for that matter, how is anything from the Gate of Babylon going to stay in this world when you’re gone?”

“Have no fear,” Gilgamesh assured her. “Though my spirit’s absence will prevent my treasury from being opened again, my body’s presence will facilitate enough of a link to keep any manifested items on this plane.”

“Great,” Weiss sighed. “I guess I should invest in a spear case then.”

“Most likely.” Another portal opened beside Gilgamesh and he withdrew Myrtenaster from its depths. “Though perhaps a more general armory would be more appropriate.”

Weiss froze at the sight of her weapon. “I told you I never wanted to see that ever again.”

“And I’ve told you that there is no room for error in this,” Gilgamesh noted. “Even if you are not a huntress anymore, this weapon is yours. It is no more responsible for Salem’s defilement than you are. But you will be responsible for your partner’s fate if you do not approach this matter with everything you have.”

The mention of Ruby was probably what did it. Weiss hesitantly reached out and took the rapier, her hand still shaking, but firm around the hilt.

“I guess I better prepare”

The head of SDC Applied Sciences marched forward and kneeled before the magic circle. Soon, a massive white glyph covered the sigil, intricate phantom blades surrounding the carving. Weiss began to whisper a chant under her breath, her hands steadying with every word.

Oscar came up to Gilgamesh’s side. “Are you sure about this?”

“You question my resolve, Oscar?”

“No. But I can’t deny that even after five years this seems a bit off. After all, no matter what happens today, you’re never going to see Ruby again. You’d think you’d search for another way, one where you got _everything_ you wanted.”

“There is no other way,” Gilgamesh replied. “Ea is not the scraps of a Heroic Spirit like Penelope and therefore cannot be housed in any old homunculus form. And without the Third Magic or the Relic of Creation, there are only two bodies left in the world capable of fully supporting a Servant.”

“And don’t think I’m not glad you’re not going on a murder spree to get Arturia’s,” Oscar declared. “But still, you had us disassemble the Greater Grail. If you’d used it to start another war instead, you could have backed a master to get everything you wanted.”

Gilgamesh sighed. “The Grail should not be used for anything that can be done without it. Whatever cost that other method entails is irrelevant.”

Oscar nodded. “As you wish. In that case, it’s been… interesting, goldie.”

The golden man smirked. “I have enjoyed your company, Oscar. Do try to make the mages a less repulsive bunch.”

“Will do my best on that.”

The former farmhand strode forward and knelt beside Weiss, his magic circuits glowing as he did final checks on the magic circle.

Gilgamesh turned back to the doorway, the familiar sounds of footsteps alerting him to the others’ arrival.

First came the King of Knights, current Council Chairwoman of Vale, her eyes locked on him with endless suspicion, her hand clenched around her invisible sword. She showed none of the politeness and supernatural charisma that had swayed the masses to elect her, but truthfully Gilgamesh found this harsher veneer far more alluring. Oh, would that she could be his, but if that ever came to pass, no doubt she would lose that very defiant luster that blazed so gloriously in his eyes.

Still, he’d kept his word not to come within twenty miles of her family, bar some prearranged meetings with herself and Jaune for the sake of intelligence sharing, so she could have at least granted him a smile. Oh well. Either way, he received a dazzling sight before his final departure.

Jaune and Yang came next, both with weapons drawn and ready in case he attacked them. It was charming honestly, and any irritation he might have had was smothered as soon as he caught sight of the catalyst he’d requested over Yang’s shoulder.

Next, strangely enough, came Blake, followed by Ren and Nora. The Headmistress of Wukong stood between Nora and Jaune, but the fact that she was not hiding at the completely opposite end from Yang was certainly different from the previous occasions Gilgamesh had seen them at the same place. Had they repaired their friendship? No, they would have stood right next to each other then. Perhaps they were merely on speaking terms again, an open door to possible reconciliation.

So be it. If Yang had the kindness in her heart to reach out a hand after so many years, then she was more merciful than him. But perhaps that was for the best.

The kingdom’s purpose was to serve the king’s every whim, and in return, the king provided it with the safety and order of his law. A king that could not control their property was no true king. He had lost control when his inflexible view of the world had blinded him to Salem’s transgressions, so much that the thieves had really had no course but to commit their own. It did not absolve them, but it did increase the weight of failure of Gilgamesh’s own shoulders.

He was no longer king. He had lost that right. Honestly, it relieved him. The lack of a crown would free him to enjoy all the pleasures of the dawning new world, both subtle and vast. It would be a time of joy like no other.

But remaining, when he had a way to return his sibling to this era, her era, to live out the rest of the life she rightfully deserved. And for once, he believed it was about time that someone got _exactly_ what they deserved.

He held out his hand. “If you would?”

Yang marched forward, her eyes never abetting their wary glare. She removed Ruby’s crimson cloak from her shoulder and placed it in his hand, though for a moment she did not let go.

“If this is a trick—”

“It would be a rather needlessly complex one,” Gilgamesh noted. “Your caution does you credit, Yang, but let us not pretend that I am not capable of killing everyone in this room if I were to truly wish it, without need for any deception.”

The Spring Maiden frowned, but she released her grip. Nodding his acknowledgment, Gilgamesh looked over the others, the titans of the dawning age.

“The path you have chosen is not for the timid, nor shall it ever be. The Grimm may be reduced and battered, but they are not gone yet. And when they are finally extinct, the threat of men and darker things shall still live on, forever and always. Stand against them, for their filth is unworthy of tainting even the least of your legends,” he proclaimed. “Fare thee well, heroes. May the new world be yours as the old one was mine.”

There was little reaction to his stirring address, the huntsmen and huntress merely staring at him blankly as he gazed over them all one by one.

At least until he finally got to Jaune and the Shield of Heroes shot him a mocking smirk while raising a very prominent finger.

That most of all prompted a smile onto Gilgamesh’s face. He left the world in lesser hands than his own, but still under the protection of figures of some renown. It wasn’t perfect, but it was still good.

He whirled around and strode into the very center of the magic circle, the five years of mystical research to careful extract his soul from the body he’d gained from the mud and replace it with another all falling into place. The emerald _prana_ from the jeweled magic circle surged into his flesh, Oscar grunting as he regulated the primordial force, a miniature typhoon surging within the laboratory.

Weiss opened her eyes, and her chant rose to a shout,

“ **My will creates your body! Your sword creates my destiny!** ”

The wind accelerated, both Arturia and Jaune drawing their swords to counteract the gale with their own roaring tornados, side by side against the storm. A shimmering white glow began to rise from the summoning sigil below.

“ **Seventh Heaven clad in the great words of power! Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!** ”

The glow flared into a brilliant shine and Gilgamesh was encased in silver light, a smile adorning his face as he felt his spirit snap from his body. And a familiar presence crash into its place.

 

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

_‘Well, well, well. Looks like somebody’s still a hero after all.’_

_Of course. Whether crowned or not, I stand at the mountain’s peak. With you and Enkidu by my side. But he never got to finish his life in full before that cow bitch slew him. I wish to give you the chance I was unable to grant him._

_‘Thank you. It means… it means more than I can say.’_

_It will be even better than before even. No longer will you be confined to a ramshackle false form, but instead will wield the finest body ever crafted by the gods._

_‘… a guy’s form.’_

_Yes. I am male. Why is that important?_

_‘No reason. It won’t be perfect, but if I have the people I love, then I don’t need perfect.’_

_Well spoken, sister. I will await your return to the Throne._

_‘Thanks. Oh hey, did you leave any of the Gate’s cookies—’_

_Oscar has a surplus ready for your use._

_‘Sweet.’_

* * *

**_RWBYRWBYRWBYRWBYFATEFATEFATEFATE_ **

****

Yang fearfully reopened her eyes, the blinding white light fading from the workshop. Weiss and Oscar both sagged forward with exhaustion, Blake and Nora catching each of them respectively.

Jaune and Arturia lowered their swords, the Shield of Heroes gazing worriedly at Gilgamesh, who still resided within the magic circle, his eyes shut tight and Ruby’s cloak in his hands.

“Did… did it work?” Jaune asked.

“I think…” Oscar whispered. “The circle went off exactly like we planned it. It should have worked.”

“It did work,” Weiss declared, her voice filled with certainty as Blake helped her to her feet. “I can feel my aura maintaining the bonding. That means the contract was accepted. And with the cloak as a catalyst--”

“Who else could you have summoned?”

Yang’s eyes widened, everyone in the room going stiff. The words had come from Gilgamesh, but the voice, the timbre, the cadence, the pitch… it had been five years since Yang had last heard it, but she could never forget that voice. Her heart was hesitant, fearful of being wrong, but she so desperately wanted it to be true.

Gilgamesh’s eyelids rose and her prayers were answered by silver irises.

“Ruby,” Yang whispered like an incantation, water already clouding her sight.

With a gleeful grin that could not be more unlike Gilgamesh, her sister flung her trademark cloak over her new body and soon was draped her red cloak, though it was far smaller then it had been before, the cape only reaching down to her waist now instead of her knees.

“Hey, guys!” Ruby cheered, waving at them like they’d met up for an afternoon in the park instead. “It’s great to see you again! Thanks for summoning me… summoning… _summoning_ … su-mun-ning… man, this new mouth is going to take some getting used to. And this chest...” She smacked her own pectorals a few times. “Jaune, Ren, why did you guys never tell me it was so light without breasts?”

Jaune and Ren, either due to the shock of the situation or the question, could only blind numbly at their returned friend.

“Oh! Right!” Ruby said, immediately moving on. She stretched her hands out in front of her. “Weiss, Oscar, you upgraded it so I have my Noble Phantasms, right?”

Weiss broke down in sniffles, tears also flowing from Blake’s eyes she kept her from hitting the ground. “That is part of what took us five years, you dolt.”

“Awesome! _Trace on_!”

Turquoise lines flared to life above Ruby’s hands, the lights quickly coalescing into the familiar shape of Crescent Rose. If there was any doubt in Yang’s mind that it was her sister before her, it was promptly erased with the first playful swish of that scythe.

“Hmm… could be better,” Ruby muttered. “I’ll have to modify the shaft to compensate for the new height, then polish the blade, but after that, it should be good as—”

She was interrupted when Yang slammed into her and engulfed her in a hug. It was a bit strange to find her face in Ruby’s chest instead of the usual other way around, but she didn’t care.

Ruby grinned and returned her embrace. “Hey, sis. I’m home.”

She was. Gilgamesh’s body or not, Ruby was back. She was _alive_ , free to finish living her life as she saw fit before returning to the Throne, with her family and friends all happy and healthy at her side. It wasn’t a perfect ending. But it was a happy one.

The simple soul got what she deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this story, check out its TV Tropes page at: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/RWBYZero
> 
> Thank you for Reading! I hope you enjoy what comes next!
> 
> Go Forth and Conquer!


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